Buffalo Future, 2 ~ 'Build me a BEAVER' is now available on Kindle

Silvanus finds a new role when his secrets are discovered Five Miles from Anywhere. Celebrations and a new love follow.

The sequel to Serpent dove is now available on Kindle as well as in paperback.

Enjoy

Buffalo Future, 1 ~ Serpent Dove, 11 and following

Hi,

If you've read the first 10 chapters 'on the house' then it's time to buy a paperback, or read this novel for free if you're signed up for kindleunlimited.

Elder Adok is on Amazon.co.uk where you'll also find the sequel, published January 2018.

Enjoy futuristic realistic yarns.

Buffalo Future, 1 ~ Serpent Dove, 10 Interest

Copyright © 2013 Elder Adok.  First novel in the Buffalo Future series.  First published
in Great Britain in April 2013 by Hiss Farm Concepts www.hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  office@hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  Second edition September 2013.  This blog chapter edition August 2015.  The moral right of Elder Adok to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.  All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.

"There's nothing here, Ash", summed up Silvanus in an off-handed manner. 

"What's so interesting about this Gustav man then?" Ashley sighed and replied trying not to let his frustration show. 

"That's the whole point, father. He is instant with history or wave mechanics or whatever, but it's the background that really counts. Bright waves don't necessarily carry wisdom". 

"You and your wisdom! It's almost as if you had a girlfriend called Wisdom". 

Metaguild did not excite Silvanus; he found the atmosphere rather flat. The buildings were traditional, rather ordinary and gathered in clusters to form quadrangles joined by interconnecting passages. People walked everywhere it seemed. Why all this wasted walking? The open evening was billed as an opportunity for the extended families of freshers to participate in mining wisdom. 

After welcoming drinks, cheeses of every description, and thin slices of delicious dried fruits, they were ushered into a large new lecture theatre based on a Greek oval auditorium. The guild master introduced herself by thanking so many who, by supporting their fresher, were also supporting a new dream in education. It was a warm brief speech; its main purpose was to introduce Gustav. He was so ordinary that Silvanus thought it some sort of joke. The lights dimmed slightly. 

Although this prophet of wisdom had little physical magic his immediate power over the audience was remarkable. How could such an underwhelming man draw his listeners; it was his controlled passion, his conviction, his power of understatement, and the attraction of the challenge he made. Gustav's boyish face, expressive eyebrows and dark complexion were not the norms in a visual communicator; somehow it gave his message more strength. This man had total confidence in wisdom so long as it was proclaimed accurately. 

He had come to appreciate his role as a custodian when considering the market value of stand-up comics, and the election of Ron Johnson in 2010 to a seat in the US Senate. The former use few props and often command an empty stage with just a microphone and spotlight. The latter gave a passionate speech about personal liberty, posted it on the ether, and gained such a following that he also gained his place in history. 

Gustav and Silvanus could have been from different planets and yet they shared the same dominant feature. Gustav would hound his quarry in order to extract the maximum enrichment it could provide. Silvanus had steel determination to reach his declared goals. Could these two disciples in the arts of ruthless guile ever meet in a shared cause? Only time would tell. They were both charismatic leaders whose influence on a relatively small number of followers could engender enormous change. 

Io was very fond of her goddaughter, Pamela who was more introspective by nature but enjoyed the stimuli of 'question' and 'adventure' upon which Io had been nurtured. Pamela had asked Io, whom she considered to be her aunt, to join the family at the metaguild open evening and she had snapped up the opportunity to meet Mr Gustav Kimmler. He didn't disappoint. Io enjoyed her own space and wasn't a bit perturbed when Pamela joined the chatter of her fellow students. Pamela's proud parents gradually drifted off too as they compared notes with other parents, so Io at last had the chance to wander off and explore a campus which enjoyed investment in beauty as well as technology. It was a college set in an art gallery. 

Silvanus had come with his ex, Holly. They were doing their bit as parents but it was obvious why they had parted; there was so little language between them. He was angry at heart, and she was just very shallow. Not an air-head, but the loft was rather empty. She had good powers of articulation but these centred on the trivia of the virtual world. The flat screens on her walls were more real than the windows to the garden. 

"Who's that stunning girl, Ash?" inquired Silvanus looking across the auditorium in Io's direction. 

"Who's who?"

Ashley already wondered why he had to have his father in tow; he seemed completely ignorant as to the ethos of metaguild and why Ashley resonated to its design. The boy felt the scars of his parents' divorce itching; then he had known rejection, and now it all flashed back. His father, the great and powerful Silvanus, just smacked of betrayal. What annoyed Ashley was why he still reacted so; he had chatted to Will about it and even been to see Will's minister, Pete who told him he had the great gift of sensitivity and would have to learn how to use it. 

"I'd like to meet her. Come on, let's go over". 

Ashley responded in such a way that made it obvious that he found Silvanus tiresome. 

"You go if you want to, father; I'll stay here with my mother". 

He didn't want to hurt his father because he loved him as a son, but neither was he going to be sweetness and light if it didn't ring true. They parted with mutual relief. Silvanus found the formal 'father' a constant harping back to the past as if there could be no forgiveness, and Ashley who longed to have a father-figure around to support his change from boy to man found Silvanus disgusted him. 

Io was standing fascinated by a picture; she looked awesome, not through surgery or make up, but because she was so very natural. The picture was an interpretation of a sight she knew too well. The Fish, her work place, had been painted as if planted in the sea. It was true that the Inflow complex was surrounded by a wide moat which somehow visually lifted it above the fenland because the sky reflected around the massive stem. The lake was primarily there for reasons of security, and had been made by opening up the Little Ouse river to form a large expanse of water north of the railway and east of the sluices to the Cut-off Channel; thus water level was easily controlled. 

Io was intrigued by the painting's background; it seemed to contain emotion. All that communication was represented in salutations, in passion, in delighted hesitation, in purpose. Quantities of information, of texture, of tone competed with realities of spirit, of hope, of well-being. The more she looked at the picture, the more absorbed she became. She didn't realize Silvanus had approached. 

"Hello, my name is Silvanus, you seem to see something in this picture". 

Io didn't even notice him and carried on looking. So he tried again. 

"Sorry to interrupt your thoughts, I gather that is your work place. I can't say that I would be intrigued by a picture of my office". 

Io turned slowly, and looked at him straight in the eyes not saying anything for a moment; how dare he invade her space. With all his energies for control, management and manipulation, he felt strangely challenged by her look. They had never really met before but knew quite a bit about each other through the conversations that spilled around Gustav's pod. 

"I suppose that Silvanus, the tree-man would have an attitude like that". 

Silvanus quipped back. 

"And I suppose Io the moon-maiden would constantly rotate around some boring little planet". 

They laughed slightly uncomfortably and then Silvanus continued. 

"Anyway tell me what fascinates you in this picture?" 

She began to point out its detail and, as she had so often found, it was during her explanation that she came to understand why she was uneasy in her work at the Fish. So much of what was communicated was little more than entertainment. It was as if all life was just one long episode of a soap opera, without even an intermission! The more the world communicated the less real it became. This picture was about bringing souls together, about minds comparing their zest for life, about living and not merely existing. But she knew that most of what passed through the Fish was just junk.

Book and Kindle editions available from Amazon  or wait for the next chapter.

Buffalo Future, 1 ~ Serpent Dove, 09 Valuing

Copyright © 2013 Elder Adok.  First novel in the Buffalo Future series.  First published in Great Britain in April 2013 by Hiss Farm Concepts www.hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  office@hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  Second edition September 2013.  This blog chapter edition August 2015.  The moral right of Elder Adok to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.  All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.

"Have you ever been involved in diplomacy, Mr Kimmler?" asked William, his dark eyebrows lifting in a quizzical frown as they walked the quad. 

Of course Ashley was there too. Gustav encouraged students to walk round and round the metaguild quad as they wrestled with an idea. Exercise brought oxygen to the brain. They were wrapped up warm against the cold, and the frosty air caught their breath. 

"Not directly, no; but I have a beach which is dedicated to diplomacy. For years I've been trying to influence the United Nations (UN) to develop a simple Value to Living index. For many animals life is just an existence, and that is sadly true for millions of human beings too. Funnily enough what sparked me off was reading an old copy of a newspaper written when fox hunting was banned last century; someone had compared the lifestyles of different animals. If I remember correctly pigs came off best, chicken worst, and foxes somewhere in between". 

Ashley wanted more detail about the Value to Living index. His contact lenses had become uncomfortable so he was wearing glasses and checked them. Sphinx informed him that often managers and civil servants seek to measure value added to a function, for example education. The Value to Living index (or V2L) seeks to quantify the whole of a being's life span in terms of quality not just quantity. The index allocates scores against seven phases in life, with one additional score for the spiritual component, and is designed to be easily determined. 

Gustav Kimmler responded, "That's right. I remember them from Jacques' soliloquy in As You Like It by William Shakespeare, with one additional score added for the whole span. Let me show you an example". 

Gustav had real skill in setting out his ideas on an impressive V2L beach that he ran. It used suckling piglets against a rural skyline as the home image. He hoped that, as waves of information broke upon his beach, they would in turn carry his ideas across the world. He also loved tradition and pulled an ancient fountain pen from his inside jacket pocket and stopped walking so as to write on some card which he propped up on one leg supported by a bench. The lads were fascinated by his dexterity and the way in which he seemed so at ease with such an odd instrument. 

"It starts, 'All the world's a stage, and men and women merely players'. Let's take a male free-range pig rather than a person as our first example. How does it begin? Ah yes, 'the infant mewling and puking' is the piglet stage which is well husbanded with little stress except for the tails being cut off, and administration of various vaccines. Let's give it a high score, say 8 out of 10. What's the next phrase?" 

Gustav capped the pen and put it with the card inside his jacket, rubbed his hands against the bitter cold and put them in his trouser pockets. They walked on, cheeks aglow. Ashley loved the quaint rhythm of Shakespeare's style and already had sphinx telling him the whining school boy, with his satchel and shining morning face.
Gustav cut in, "Ah yes ... 'unwillingly to school'; that's when piglets run around together and learn their place in the pig village. I think that's another 8. Remember these scores because we'll complete the card in a minute". 

They walked at a good pace to keep warm. 

"Then comes the 'lover, sighing like furnace'; with artificial insemination and castration of most male piglets this stage is a bit tame: 1 out of 10". 

Gustav paused long enough to write the number on his card. 

"The soldier's stage 'full of oaths, and bearded like the pard' is more worthwhile, not in fighting terms but in various social groupings established on free range farms. It would be reasonable to argue for 6". 

William anticipated Gustav's next thought, "But pigs don't live into old age because they are killed for food". 

A quizzical look flashed across the dark features of his face. 

"You're right there; the 'justice' followed by the failing stages with 'big manly voice, turning again towards childish treble' are only seen by the occasional boar kept on as a stud. With modern culling methods the average pig never smells death or has any idea that it is coming. Robots cull only the required pigs almost simultaneously and, when well programmed, discreetly so that other pigs are hardly aware of death; they just wonder where their companions have gone! Pigs don't face the trauma of wasting away and they die in peak condition so I would give 5 out of a possible 20 for these two stages". 

"Do you think that humans should be culled too?", asked Ashley shifting his balance as if the thought made him uncomfortable.

"Well, V2L might help. There's no point in existing just for the sake of it; however the elderly are our greatest source of wisdom because they can draw on a sense of perspective. Our pics are set to 110 years after which, if we want medical attention, we have to demonstrate a certain quality of life; otherwise there will be no intervention just to extend life. Let's complete the index for a male pig and then you can calculate something for a human being. Let's tot up the score so far". 

They stopped walking and sat down on a convenient bench sheltered from the biting east wind and catching some thin winter sun. Gustav showed them his card which they completed. 

"Nothing else can be added because life is cut short. 'Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything' does not apply to pigs. There appears to be no spiritual side to a pig although some say they make good pets; let's be generous and add on 5 points. That gives us a total of 33 out of 80".

male pig = infancy, 8 + student, 8 + lover, 1 + soldier, 6 + justice, 5 + 2nd childhood, 0 + oblivion, 0 + spirit, 5. Total = 33

"You can see that it's simple to come up with a value, and it gets people talking which puts the whole thing into the public domain, and that's a key feature of V2L. In the early part of this century the World Health Organization (WHO) came up with a Quality of Life scale or WHOQOL for short. It was a fantastic attempt to assess well-being internationally. Unfortunately the research became complex and bogged down by copyright issues, so it never entered into public use". 

He paused for questions or comments but was surprised by attentive silence; perhaps it was the cold. Anyway he continued. 

"There was an attempt to make it accessible called the 'happiness index' but understandably it was rubbished as 'political correctness gone mad'. You try out V2L for an unwanted child without access to good education, and I think you will begin to see its power". 

Ashley began, "The first stage is the mewling puking infant which for an unwanted child is likely to be tough, probably involving physical abuse. I reckon the first five years of life are when children pick up a real feel for what life is about, and to learn that nobody loves you is a hard cross to carry. The score would be low, say 2 out of 10". 

"But that's worse than a piglet's start!", cut in Will. 

"That's the whole point of V2L, it make us think about living as opposed to existing, and it applies to all sentient beings", explained Gustav. "Many human beings have been given dreadful lives". 

He wrote on his card. Ashley was curious because he had had to carry a cross himself when his parents divorced. 

"The whining school boy can't be so bad; the child will feel friendship at school, say 7; that makes a measly 9 so far". 

"Hang on a minute", cut in Gustav, "I said this child had no access to good education. I think 7 is too generous; more like 3 because the child could be trapped in a so-called home". 

"The lover, sighing like furnace ought to be a good stage with a real sense of being wanted but perhaps finding it difficult to trust, say 7 out of 10. That makes 12 out of 30 and we're catching up on the pig", explained Will with a slight sense of relief. 

It seemed appalling that an animal should score higher than a human. 

"Then comes the soldier full of strange oaths which I suppose is professional life since national service was abolished ages ago", argued Ashley who was a pacifist by nature. "What do you think, Will?" 

"It can't be less than 5; sometimes those who have had a difficult upbringing have natural resilience in a competitive market place, how about 8? That gives a cumulative total of 20 and we've nearly caught up the pig if I read your writing correctly Mr Kimmler". 

"I think you're beginning to see the power of this idea and why I have dedicated so much time and effort to influencing the swell with my beach". 

There was a brief pause, which reinforced the sense of Gustav's utter conviction. They considered the justice and, after a long debate about learning from life, came up with a score of 6. The final stages of life gave the most difficulty but they settled for 4 in each, 34 out of 70 so far ... only one more than a male pig! Only the spiritual component could make a difference. They agreed that sometimes disadvantaged people have profound spiritual lives and gave it 7. Gustav showed the card which they noticed had one more section waiting to be filled.

male pig = infancy, 8 + student, 8 + lover, 1 + soldier, 6 + justice, 5 + 2nd childhood, 0 + oblivion, 0 + spirit, 5. Total = 33

unwanted human = infancy, 2 + student, 3 + lover, 7 + soldier, 8 + justice, 6 + 2nd childhood, 4 + oblivion, 4 + spirit, 7. Total = 41

valued human =

Book and Kindle editions available from Amazon  or wait for the next chapter.

Buffalo Future, 1 ~ Serpent Dove, 08 House plans

Copyright © 2013 Elder Adok.  First novel in the Buffalo Future series.  First published in Great Britain in April 2013 by Hiss Farm Concepts www.hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  office@hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  Second edition September 2013.  This blog chapter edition July 2015.  The moral right of Elder Adok to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.  All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.

For a number of weeks Silvanus had been thinking carefully; for reasons of security he had never written or typed anything down, but had developed a systematic way of attacking the problem by using different rooms of a house. He turned off all links with sphinx because he was close to making sufficient decisions to put a plan into action. This was an opportunity to clear his mind without anything being detected.

Because he was such a wily character nearly all his relationships with his fellow human beings atrophied so he found his three dogs great companions; they always seemed loyal, they always had a capacity for fun, and they always had energy.

From his cottage in Eriswell Silvanus could be at the Lakenheath Rider Servicing Complex in just seven minutes. But now he was going to pass by the massive site. He checked his eCar was fully charged through its carbon-enriched tyres positioned over the charging pads fitted outside his garage. The dogs wagged their tails crazily and jumped in the back.

As they headed along Brandon Road for Thetford Forest he noticed the beauty of winter from the warmth of the car; and the engineer in him also saw that the battery was charging through road contacts. After an unbelievably wet and stormy autumn, he was surprised and delighted by a bright crisp day. It was a relief after all the hectic activity of the previous weeks merely to have time to think.

Silvanus and fitness regimes were poles apart and yet in a way he was a disciplinarian; if he wanted his body to do something it had to respond. Usually it was over-fat and under-exercised but when he had something on his mind he could walk for mile after mile without apparently noticing. It was a long time since he had actually been in fresh air and uncharacteristically he thought that he ought to exercise a little more.

If Silvanus was frustrated the dogs would have commands shouted at them, but today they were virtually ignored and enjoyed ferreting about in the undergrowth while maintaining reasonable progress in order to keep up with him. They walked one of the circuits he knew well so he could lose himself planning; he made a point of being polite and relaxed with anyone he encountered. A gent in tweeds and meticulous beard told him off for not keeping his dogs on a lead but Silvanus didn't respond with his usual temper; not being noticed was the priority.

In his mind's eye Silvanus moved from room to room in the house that was his plan. The garage represented assembling the plan ready to drive it forward; he now knew what he was going to do, he would infiltrate the rider upgrade programme and insert a manned capsule. The bedroom, and unusually for him in this particular house he only had one, represented timing.

Silvanus knew he might need to keep his plan sleeping for some time. The key to the whole design made the lounge the place where he had to relax so that everything appeared normal. If the psychological detection programme (run so effectively by Inflow) was to detect any significant change in his behaviour, suspicion and intelligence might lead authorities to his Cell and into the house of his mind. It was a dangerous game.

That night Silvanus slept well and so for that matter did his dogs. The plan crafted so carefully in his mind, room by imaginary room was nearing completion. He would call one full meeting of his Cell, and that would be followed by meetings with individuals. Only he would know the full house plans. The meetings with individuals might in some cases be quite complex, but would only include information required by that particular member. Nothing would be recorded and he would keep the whole atmosphere as relaxed and easy going as possible so that the behaviour of Cell members did not appear to change.

Silvanus knew that he had to be particularly careful with himself because his desire to control and manipulate was going to be satisfied by his plan. The excitement of that possibility surged through his veins. More relaxation was key, so there were more walks in Thetford Forest and Silvanus was surprised by how much he noticed as Nature prepared to paint spring. He pencilled in the idea of walking the cliffs at Cromer; he hadn't been there since childhood.

He got to taking his old binoculars with him and observing wild life; very convenient too because he could act as a twitcher if he did not want recognition. The walks were a help but he still felt the need to slow down further and so he investigated various alternatives including yoga, but all the groups seem to be composed of women; jogging, but that was a solitary exercise designed merely to use up energy; and finally cycling, which caught his imagination.

Silvanus invested in a new road bicycle which he found surprisingly comfortable to ride and came to enjoy conversations on the bronchs where people talked freely about everything you could imagine. He began to cycle regularly and always with some purpose in mind; that way he felt that it wasn't just using up his energy but harnessing it.

One evening, after a couple of months, as he lay in a bath having a good soaking he chuckled to himself because he realized his ruthlessness had made him physically fitter and slightly lighter.

Book and Kindle editions available from Amazon  or wait for the next chapter.

Buffalo Future, 1 ~ Serpent Dove, 07 Brighton evening

Copyright © 2013 Elder Adok.  First novel in the Buffalo Future series.  First published in Great Britain in April 2013 by Hiss Farm Concepts www.hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  office@hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  Second edition September 2013.  This blog chapter edition June 2015.  The moral right of Elder Adok to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.  All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.

Brighton Rooftops © BoblyP

Kings Cross to Victoria by bronchs highlighted

The span of years helped but so did the span of generations. Io appreciated her roots and, perhaps because she was an only child, she regularly called on and relished the company of her elders. This was particularly so when she was out of sorts; their wisdom gave her fresh perspective, and their collective years of experience put her quarter century into context.

It was dark and cold: she zipped her leather jacket tight around her neck and walked past the museum and cathedral to the Ely station. So much cycling to the Fish and back through the bronch developed one set of muscles, walking emphasized a different combination and it was quite relaxing. There was a spring in her step.

The frost as the sun rose across Soham Lode was stunning. The train was soon past Waterbeach and pulled up at Cambridge where George joined; he climbed into a different coach and walked through the train until he found Io at a table seat pouring out two cups of tea from a large thermos.

In 35 minutes the train had reached London. Io had chosen Kings Cross station over Liverpool Street because the trip was faster and, so early on a Saturday, cheaper. They picked up bikes and cycled up the gentle incline from the platform into the bronch system. George had never been on the section to Victoria but Io knew it well and relished the banked corners as they swung past the British Museum, through Soho, around Buckingham Palace, and down onto the Brighton platform at Victoria station. Most of the bronch was at second storey height; Io loved the views and speed, while George concentrated to keep her in sight. It only took quarter of an hour.

Ten minutes later they were heading across the Thames towards Brighton. The train was comfortable and George felt peckish after the ride. Io had brought one banana which they shared as she warned him about Granny Smith's famous hospitality; they wouldn't starve.

The three great roof spans of the 1840 Brighton railway station welcomed them. George had never been there before and warmed to its style. Io suggested they walked down Queen's Road towards the sea, its fresh air a pleasant change from an air-conditioned railway coach.

After a short distance they crossed the road and entered into a building once operated by BBC Brighton, numbers 40-42 to be precise. They took a lift to the penthouse flat which overlooked the rooftops towards the sea. Io's paternal grandparents Siman and Janu Smith made them feel most welcomed; soon a large tray with coffee and cake was placed before them in the garden which was the pride and joy of their hosts.

Both in their mid-seventies they had plenty of creative energy. Siman explained that when they bought the flat it had potential for a garden but required careful construction so that no roots or leakage affected floors below. Janu said it was a combination of privacy and the central location near the station which drew them to their retirement home.

"And there's another even more important reason. Let's see if they are having coffee too. You'll need to come inside". 

She drew back the curtains from a window into her in-law's flat. Through it you could see an elderly couple sitting in separate wicker chairs looking out over Brighton Pier.

"Hello Greatma. I told you Io and her boyfriend George would be visiting us this weekend. Here they are!" 

Louise and Robert were in their late nineties with faces given great character by time's artistry. Their chairs swivelled round to face the window.

"Hello Io dear. You look so fit and healthy ... and this must be George. Very nice to see you. I hope you'll both call in while you're here. Would tomorrow morning after Church be any good?" 

Louise liked to have things organized.

"We'd love to Greatma", and turning towards Janu, Io checked, "If that's alright with you Gran?"

"Yes, of course it is. Do have a word with Robert". 

He was noticeably more frail than his wife and content to let her make arrangements. Yet when he spoke his eyes twinkled, as if the youngsters imparted some of their youthful energy to him.

"George, we mustn't let the women do all the talking. Do you mind me asking what you do for a living, or are you 'in between jobs' as they say?" 

George had dreaded the question but had an answer ready in his mind.

"I've been working with Inflow at Lakenheath for a number of years and commute in from Cambridge". 

He hoped that the last phrase would divert them from what he actually did, and the gamble paid off.

"You don't cycle all that away do you George?" asked Louise. "It must be all of 25 miles". 

Before replying George thought to himself that there were no flies on this set of Io's great grandparents.

"No, I usually get the train as far as Ely and then cycle into the Fish with Io. We can have a good chat on the way and keep trim at the same time".

"Well George", interjected Robert, "You'll need to do a few extra miles once Janu has finished with you. You'll be plum full of her tantalising cakes and soggy meringues".

George wondered for a moment if Io had passed on her nickname Porgie, but plums never featured again as they chatted for another twenty minutes. Then, with goodbyes, Siman drew the curtains together.

"We don't want them eavesdropping on our conversations".

They sat outside in the sun, sheltered from the sea breeze by a wall of glass which had the effect of cutting down background noise. Up here it was a different world.

"I can see why you chose this place", ventured George, but not addressing the Smiths by any particular name or title.

"George, do call us Grandma and Grandpa". 

Janu timed her comment naturally so there was no awkwardness for the young man. 

"Everybody else does, whether family or not!"

Siman pointed south-east over the rooftops. "You see that light grey roof; that's number 66 King's Road and it's near the fishing museum. Louise and Robert have the corner flat with a great view of the pier. There's always so much going on for them to watch".

Io picked up the thread. 

"They like their routines and love joining in Church on Sunday mornings. Their sound system is amazing and the camera is positioned where they used to sit. Apart from the occasional head blocking the view it's almost as if you are there".

"So they don't actually go to Church but still feel included. That sounds a bit odd to me", George puzzled.

"No, it works really well. Visitors can call too and join the atmosphere; Sunday mornings have been part of their routine for so many years. Robert was particularly pleased last week because the minister mentioned his question in the sermon, something about pigs rushing into the sea when filled with evil spirits". 

She paused a moment as the thought occurred to her. 

"George, would you like to join them?"

"Yes I suppose I would but I've never really been to Church". 

He didn't feel pressurized by the invitation; in fact he had become quite curious and valued the opportunity to see things for himself.

"That doesn't matter because, like a pub, anyone can walk into the building. The real Church is people anyway, so buildings and communications are all secondary. It's keeping it personal that counts".

They made the necessary change of plan and settled down to a 'light lunch' before heading for a walk along the sea front. Janu and Siman stayed home pottering in the garden as the next meal took shape!

~

At 9.20am that Sunday Io and George set off from The Penthouse of The Old Broadcasting House as it was now known, and walked past the clock tower down West Street to the front; then east along King's Road and into number 66.

George didn't quite know what to expect; they made their way up the stairs so as to maximise exercise and dissipate some of Janu's calorie contributions. The door opened as they approached and they were immediately welcomed into a different kind of world.

"Do come in and make yourselves at home". 

As usual Louise led but Robert chipped in.

"We chose this place because it looks out to sea and also allows us to snoop on all the pier tourists. You'd be surprised what goes on. A sea view is fantastic but changes slowly and can get a bit boring".

Somehow this introduction summed the elderly couple up. They were welcoming, enjoyed the patterns of life and nature but also wanted the stimulation of watching the world and his wife go by.

"Would you like a cuppa? Tea? Coffee? Bit early for a beer George". 

Robert organised Louise seamlessly. Soon they were sitting in four comfortable chairs facing some thick velvet curtains. Louise lit a couple of candles and placed a fresh rose at the foot of a simple wooden cross set in an alcove.

"What's the time dear?" asked Louise. 

"It's quarter to ten, so they will be getting ready". 

Robert drew the curtains which showed St Paul's Church being prepared for worship. Various members of the choir in their smart blue robes were putting out music sheets. Candles were lit on the altar. Then Robert pushed one of the buttons and the picture faded to another view of a prayer corner with a votive candle stand. There was a font and various flags.

"Oh look, there's Edna, bless her", commented Louise. 

"She's done well to get to Church; dear old Reginald's funeral was only last Wednesday. I sent her a card Robert".

George was captivated. He felt quite absorbed by the 'surroundings' and yet was sitting in a flat some distance from the Church. He felt as if he should speak in hushed tones but was assured that, although they could hear sounds, their chatter couldn't be overheard.

"Do drink up George. I'm sure Greatma has another one in the pot", said Io. 

She made it clear that they could be respectfully part of their Church while at the same time relaxing at home. The congregation stood when the first hymn was announced.

"Oh, I love this one. We can all join in; our neighbours are used to Sunday Church". 

Louise's voice was rather tremulous, had dropped a little with the years, but fortunately was still fairly accurate. Io sounded amazing. George hadn't heard her sing before. He joined in quietly. Robert had a go but his efforts bore little resemblance to the tune; it was clear that he enjoyed giving it his best shot. The rumble gave an audio cushion beneath which George could be a little more adventurous.

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Buffalo Future, 1 ~ Serpent Dove, 06 Pondering

Copyright © 2013 Elder Adok.  First novel in the Buffalo Future series.  First published in Great Britain in April 2013 by Hiss Farm Concepts www.hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  office@hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  Second edition September 2013.  This blog chapter edition June 2015.  The moral right of Elder Adok to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.  All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.

Transistor's Dance
 ©  Marina Shakhmametieva

Ashley Woodlander and William Inchbald were thick besides being bright. They had a certain chemistry about them. Each was a catalyst to the other. Ashley's quest for advantage gave him a restlessness which somehow suited his ginger features. Most found him intense and claustrophobic; however William was so used to it that he virtually ignored the traits. They had had a few blazing rows which resulted in an understanding which gave space for each other's opinion.

"Did you watch that game last night, Wills? That try by Firano was fantastic. He programmed the ball just right". 

His freckled face screwed up slightly, adding unnecessary tension to an ordinary question.

"No, I was out with Mum and Dad. They had been working together on a dialect recognition programme and hadn't been out of the house for days. They were getting ratty so I told them they needed a break. Couldn't believe it when they took notice of me". 

"Pity. You missed a cool game. What did you do with the oldies anyway, Wills?" 

They walked along the Cam river as they talked; William taking short frequent steps.

"We went down to the new Sports Entirety gym; it's impressive. You really do feel able to compete on equal terms without the virtual being too strong. You actually come off the court sweating". 

"Sounds cool. How do you vary the virtual then?" 

William explained how you warmed up on a trial setting and then had the first game. Depending on the result you arrived at a handicap setting. Play began in earnest with all the players reducing virtual to a minimum. The best players had hardly any virtual at all.

Ashley's father, Silvanus Woodlander, had seeded a child by Holly when she was only seventeen. He had been impatient with having a family at first, but seemed to settle and married Holly when their firstborn was two and was baptized, in fact it had been a joint occasion. Because they had been together for some time a grand white wedding seemed inappropriate, so a small village church sufficed and everyone walked there in wellington boots which were left in a random pile in the porch. It had all seemed so right to Silvanus at the time. How appropriate that a young girl called Holly should become a part of the Woodlander tribe. After all, his sister had been called Arborea. 

When Ashley was only seven his parents split up and he came to know what heartache meant for the first time. It had been as if he had been cut in two emotionally while remaining physically intact. His little head could not, would not understand. He lived from Sunday to Wednesday in Lakenheath with his mother Holly, and the rest of the week in Eriswell with his socalled father Silvanus. The tear of his parents parting was bad enough; now it was reinforced by an arrangement permanently dividing him. He had had no say in all this because at seven he was deemed too young. It was young enough to be hurt but too young it seemed to be loved. 

As a result he buried himself in another world. 'Adventure' and 'discovery' became his parents. William became a kind of brother in Ashley's new 'family.' When Ashley had cautiously dared to trust his new 'brother' the pair became almost inseparable. Sometimes others could not get a look in; they could only speak to them rather than to each individually. William Inchbald's parents had given wise counsel when he first met Ashley. They felt their parental love drawn through their precious and only son towards the heartbroken ginger lad. 

Ashley had felt a sense of betrayal when his father's girlfriend Jeanette fell pregnant. She only lived a few streets away from his mother Holly. At full term Jeanette gave birth to healthy twins. Although Silvanus and Jeanette named them loosely in the Woodlander tradition it was clear early on that Silvanus did not want Fern and Ernest living with him at his Eriswell cottage. However he did regularly visit them and provided sufficient funds so that Jeanette only needed to work half-time in Inflow PR services while their twins attended pre-school; she looked after them the other half of the week.

"Can you be 100% healthy, Wills, or is it like infinity, impossible to reach?" 

Ashley initiated a completely new thread of conversation as the boys sat down with two freshly brewed mugs of red bush tea, a taste they had learnt from their inspirational Metaguild history tutor Gustav Kimmler. 

"Well, what do you mean by health? Pete says health involves all that makes us human: body, mind, soul, and strength". 

He hadn't quite known how to respond so plucked an idea from a recent conversation he had had with Peter Roberts, the Metaguild chaplain. 

"Getting all religious again! Why do you take so much notice of Pete anyway? Why don't you think for yourself, Wills old man?" 

There was a barb to his question but it was also genuine, longing for some solid rock in the shifting sands of his life. 

"You're jealous! When you really want to know, I'll explain about models and faith, but right now you asked me about health. Ash, what do you want health, or faith, or both?" 

Previously William Inchbald would not have responded so strongly, but he had learnt that the passive conversation of his loving parents was not always the right mode for the freckled Ashley Woodlander. 

"Sorry, no offence. I know it's real for you. OK, tell me about health". 

Before replying William smiled at Ashley and winked. They treasured their remarkable gift of robust thoughtful respectful exchange. 

"I will in a moment but I'm going to tell you why Chaplain Roberts helps me. He's integrated and has integrity! Besides his Metaguild role he is part of the Healthy Neighbourhood practice, and vicar to Waterbeach". 

Ashley remained silent; part of what made their bond so strong was that the boys really argued and really listened. William went on.

"It's a bit like computers with hardware, software, firmware, and all those other wares. One bit affects another. By the way I reckon some things just have to be received because you can only find them, not understand them!" 

The trust and rapport between them was stunning. They had a respect for each other beyond their years. As they sparred they drew not blood but nuggets of wisdom. Most wrote the pair off as living in another world, as nerds; but Gustav saw them as the first real potential for his research into wisdom. His basic thesis was that she was available to all ages and in all situations. Mankind had lost the art of listening to her. 

"As we progress, the boundary between natural biological life and artificial processes seems to be fading", argued William. 

"Think of those replacement nerves your Gran had fitted last week. She is already showing sign of beginning to walk again. Is that health, Ash? The oldies keep asking when all the artificial is going to stop but they're first in the queue for replacements". 

There was a long pause as the lads pondered a moment of Darwinian weight. Could evolution of the human species include material that wasn't biological? When mankind first went to the moon technology was so primitive that in order to reduce the weight of computers smaller logic circuits were designed. The first type used germanium but it was too temperature sensitive. Silicon logic circuits were first produced in the 1960s. 

"Think how much has happened since then, Ash. Microchips used to be enormous because of binary counting methods but now ..."

"What do you mean 'binary'?", puzzled Ashley.

"It was a complete system of logic using 'on' or 'off; it was so crude that logic operations took ages".

"Oh yes, I remember, that's partly why counting based on twelve was introduced. We should have been born with twelve fingers and toes. Ten can't be divided by three without getting recurring decimals".

"Point three three ... forever you mean".

There was another short silence before William continued shouting in excitement.

"That's it! I've got it! Hey, écoute mon ami!"

They animatedly discussed how if biological selection improved species why shouldn't nonbiological selection also work in the same way. Had mankind evolve beyond biology by thinking not in tens but in dozens?

"We need to ask Gustav what he thinks".

They went off to find him.

Two years before, Gustav had welcomed them as freshers to Waterbeach Metaguild.

"If I can begin with our style; 'meta' as in 'metamorphosis' is the Greek for change; hence, metaguild is education in transition. Guilds are centres of craft, of wisdom. You come in here green having mastered 'the white heat of technology' but naïve in its use. Technology has tamed you; now you must become its master. By the way, sphinx will tell you who first used the 'white heat' image".

Alfred had anticipated the invitation and sphinx informed him through his contact lenses that Prime Minister Harold Wilson used the phrase' white heat of technology' as in this clip from one of his party political broadcasts in 1966 ... Gustav loved education. Information bored him as it did most others. Nerds were few nowadays; education had come of age in the techno era.

Our little technological toys had in the past been tin gods inviting us to wallow in data, 'brilliant with information,' a phrase coined by Ray Bradbury in his prophetic novel 'Fahrenheit 451'. We had often wasted the wisdom of our elders or had rejected the past. Education had been renewed and Gustav relished his part in that renewal.

"I see, when it comes to sphinx, you have the inside lane Alfred. Good, but you come to metaguild like fat caterpillars stuffed with facts gleaned from the cabbage-like sphinx plant. I want you to transform, to metamorphose into gossamer-light butterflies born on the winds of beauty, art, creation, and spirit".

That brief introduction had captivated William and Ashley. Gustav was more than a teacher; he was a companion on a journey discovering the intimacy of wisdom and her innate beauty. He understood their quest and he had a love of all disciplines not just one. He was the master physician and the others merely specialists. He could see the whole picture while they saw only through their particular specialism. If he had a weakness it was that he saw education as queen not knave.

Where would they find him this time of day? Gustav was not a creature of habit but neither was he an absentminded professor. Enquiry at reception yielded direction to the scented garden behind the cricket pavilion. Gustav had imported the idea from the Botanical Gardens at Cambridge. It appealed to his overall philosophy that boundaries are usually artificial. Wisdom could come to you through all the senses, including smell.

He was sitting, breathing deeply when Ashley and William arrived full of excitement. Gustav's passion was disciplined; although interruption was the last thing he wanted he knew these lads were on to something. How often people artificially created moments to talk? But conversation chooses its own moment usually at an inconvenient time and often late at night. This was such a moment. Young lads are not partial to flower scent, yet Gustav invited them to sit down and breath deeply.

"Take a moment to collect your thoughts so you can express them succinctly".

They duly obeyed but wondered why he asked them to wait. Still, he usually had reasons.

"What's that smell?" asked the boys.

"I'm glad you've noticed. This scented garden somehow puts my thoughts into perspective. Well, let's hear you".

They put their thesis to Gustav. Were silicon and carbon evolution systems the same? He paused for a moment and then began thinking aloud about deterrence. Ashley and William listened because they had learnt that he often approached an answer from an unexpected direction. It was this unpredictability that made Gustav such an inspiration. He compared the complex and vastly expensive deterrence systems keeping the continental power blocks in check with the surveillance and locks for an ordinary house. The difference in scale made the comparison look ridiculous but in fact the principle of deterrence was exactly the same.

"I reckon that it's no different when it comes to evolution. If the processes that are behind the development of carbon based organisms are the same as those behind the silicon revolution then they are both evolutionary".

This was the cue they had been waiting for. Gustav had thrown a conclusion into the ring and they knew he now wanted their take on it.

"But is it natural?" asked Ashley.

"What I mean is who or what is in control?"

He paused not quite understanding what he wanted to ask and yet at the same time knowing he was near the heart of the matter.

"Go on", encouraged Gustav, relishing the scent and the chase.

"Well, if you buck Mother Nature she has a tendency to hit back. You know, all that stuff last century when the food chain was messed about because herbivores were given meat products and suddenly humans developed all kinds of odd diseases. Now with silicon there's no limit to its advance. Zoid has fancy implants in his eyes and ears so he can link to sphinx 24/7".

Gustav thought for a while and then seemingly changed the direction of conversation to bees.

"A queen bee is natural, and yet how appalling that she should become an egg factory. If Mother Nature could do that then perhaps the excesses of biotechnology were more natural than they might appear. Now of course the trade-off in the evolution of the queen bee is that her every need is sated by attendant bees. I think this trade-off principle should be at the heart of any earth diplomacy leading to treaties covering gene modification or bionic implant".

No doubt the conversation would continue but for now Gustav needed space and invited the boys to leave him a while.

Book and Kindle editions available from Amazon  or wait for the next chapter.

Buffalo Future, 1 ~ Serpent Dove, 05 Courting

Copyright © 2013 Elder Adok.  First novel in the Buffalo Future series.  First published in Great Britain in April 2013 by Hiss Farm Concepts www.hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  office@hissfarmconcepts.co.uk  Second edition September 2013.  This blog chapter edition May 2015.  The moral right of Elder Adok to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.  All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

Cooped up in an airless cell George and Io battled a game of brawn and brain. The ball flicked over wooden floor, smashed from wall to wall beneath top court lines until managing to hide from their racquets in a corner. Points were registered and the score relayed by audio as the screen updated. It was a good match. Io insisted that she be given no handicap. The squash ball was hollow; no programme. George won easily. He had the better technique. She felt his stalking skills as those sharp eyes noted her every move. Surprise seemed impossible. How could she improve? He made her competitive. 

After a shower, cool in the bar, she quizzed him. How did he know her game so easily. He kept mum. She determined to find out. George diverted the subject. 

"Tell me about the tropics". 

How did he know? She racked her brain to try and remember if she had ever talked about the place where her spirit was free. It seemed a million miles away from Cambridge in the depth of winter. She became angry and confused but tried to appear at ease because she wanted to both protect her space from his gaze, and to find out what he was doing there. Now she knew it had been a man watching her bathe in the tropical moonlight. 

"I'm not really in the mood now, George". 

He had only brought the subject up as a diversion, but he had made a big mistake. She now knew he was from security and had been researching her. All their growing friendship might be just duty for him, using her to extract more data. He felt dirtied by his job. Security's motto 'Be crafty not evil' flashed across his mind. He wondered if it was possible. He loved Io for her integrity, for her beauty, for her fun, for who she was. He didn't want to mess it all up. 

They agreed to a match the following week and to meeting on the bronch the day before. That night Io slept fitfully. The squash had tired her physically but Georgie Porgie had put her mind in a whirl. She had to admit that she had grown rather fond of him, yet there was something in his manner that annoyed her. It was as if he was chasing her by letting her take initiatives and reacting to them. Fair enough, the gentlemen often chased the ladies who would run just fast enough to be caught. She knew that game, but just at the moment she was in no mood to be caught. She needed to win. 

George too found that sleep did not come easily. Io was not a woman who could take the leading role in his romantic dreams. There was more to her than tickling his fancy. Somehow he felt summoned before her to give account. She was his queen. 

In the morning before peddling off to work Io noted down a few ideas for the next game of squash. On the swell she found a hologram tutor for her return home. And George, so as not to appear too suspicious, took the train to Lakenheath. He determined to come clean next time he met the comely Blondie.

~

The Panton Arms served free range veal thinly sliced in a beautiful port sauce. The vegetables were delicious: parsnip lightly fried in butter, mange-tout peas, baked sprouts and sweet potatoes. Small Yorkshire puddings, crisp on the outside but gloriously soggy on the inside adorned the edge of their plates. The atmosphere was between town and gown. An open fire burned brightly. Io and George were in the mood for a good meal and also eager for conversation. It seemed ages since they had really talked. Both wanted to move on from their combative squash court encounters. 

"This is lovely George. Thanks. It's been a busy week and I need to relax". 

Typically English, George replied.

"Oh don't mention it". 

He was thrilled she had. What a beautiful woman; what a beautiful person. He was quite in awe. Then came a gentle instruction from Io.

"Tell me about your family, George". 

He waited for a moment, slightly fazed. His family were as English as English could be. The Freemans went back a long way. Education was a strand that held them together. His parents met at Oxford where they were both reading law. Father read law and music, mother read law with French. George had an autistic brother Basil, who although six years his senior appeared to have an emotional age of eleven. 

He lived unhappily in a hostel; this was a deep disappointment to the family because they had tried to keep Basil at home but it nearly broke them. The hostel cared for him satisfactorily yet his unhappiness hung over the Freemans. As George spoke Io was moved by his anguish and volunteered a trite encouragement. 

"You've never really known a seriously autistic person have you", commented George quietly. "Basil's personality is radically different from ours. To put it simply, he is both child and adult; if you try to bring him together it is like tearing him apart. On the other hand what is normal for him is abnormal and uncomfortable for us. He tears us apart because we don't have his ..." 

George couldn't find the right word; he wanted to be true to Basil. 

"We don't have his gift". 

There was a wholesome pause. Io had the sense to keep quiet. George slowly drank half a glass of rosé and when he put the glass down she lent forward and laid her hand on his.

"Thank you". 

It was true companionship. George did not feel patronised; he was not sure she understood about Basil but she understood him. He turned his hand to hold hers and caressed it gently with his thumb. 

"Perhaps you will meet him one day". 

"I'd like that". 

They ordered sweet, and Io teased that plum pudding wasn't on the menu. 

"What about your family?" 

Io took a deep silent breath and leant back. She told him she was the only child of Arthor and Claru whom she dearly loved and respected. They had their funny ways but were wise and young at heart. She regularly visited them in Dorset, and they stayed for long weekends with her in Ely. Her goddaughter Pamela was only sixteen but as bright as a button, and she had just joined the Waterbeach Metaguild under the amazing Gustav Kimmler. It was odd that Microsoft should have put up so much money for an institution centred on wisdom and excellence. Their track record in the early years of computing had been for mass-marketed second rate technology. Anyway that was another story. 

One of the greatest influences on Io was Greatma. She was a free spirit. Born Louise Freak she had married Robert to become a Smith. Now aged ninety five she was physically fit, taking into account half a dozen new joints. The couple lived in a corner flat overlooking Brighton Pier, and were still quite independent knowing that their son and daughter-in-law lived a short distance away nearer the railway station. 

"By the way George, how did you know I had been to the tropics?" 

The question came out of the blue yet it was a relief to George. He had determined to come clean with Io. He marvelled at her wide ranging temper. One minute relishing family values and the next interrogating the accused. She was dangerous, a true Smithy. One minute warming iron, the next beating it out on a cold hard anvil. 

"This is dangerous for me. You know that I work for Inflow security. They will be watching me to make sure we do not compromise each other". 

He shuffled awkwardly in his chair. 

"I wouldn't compromise you, Porgie", quipped Io. 

"Listen, you don't understand ..." He sighed. "I have always played by their rules until now. I am already compromised just by seeing you, unless I can justify it on security grounds". 

George went on to tell Io that her restlessness had been detected and that he had been instructed to watch her, the comely maiden, swimming in the tropical moonlight months before. She surprised him by revealing that she somehow knew that she was being watched then, and that it was a relief to know who had been her mystery observer. She went on to explain how he might help her understand why she was restless. They talked of travelling back from Africa, Southern Sudan to be precise; she had flown to Marseilles and then caught Eurostar to St Pancras. He had been flown directly to Inflow's Lakenheath runway. George found passion in his voice; he was almost shaking with emotion. 

"The trouble is Io, I have grown very fond of you. Let me see your blue eyes … I am drawn by your lovely eyes, by you. I am afraid that I will come to love you". 

Io blushed but without awkwardness. 

"George, I'm fond of you but I don't want to rush things. Who knows, love may blossom but let's give each other space. Sorry, I must sound like Greatma Smith. I hadn't realized about the cost for you in all this. It may be good for us though". 

It was a good meal: food, conversation, honesty. Outside the cold air played briefly with each breath as it caught the starlight. They planned to meet more but were going to have to be careful where. The bronchs were safe. Thank God for the bronchs.

Book and Kindle editions available from Amazon  or wait for the next chapter.