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.

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

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.