*Look, before I start this post I HAVE TO brag. Which is kind of like having to bake, with fewer pans and flour. No shade on Mark S. who still wrote my favorite Amazon review, but this one…. this one is not a good review. It’s the review I’d have dreamed of if I knew this was possible! REVIEW OF SARAH HOYT’S NO MAN’S LAND. I’m not sure how I deserved this. I’m sure I’m not worthy, and all I can say is “aye, aye, captain. Working on Orphans of the Stars as much and as fast as I can” -SAH*

Vibing History

There are things I seem to have been appointed to scream out in the desert (by whom is a good question. Perhaps a superior power. Perhaps my subconscious. I don’t care. Whatever it is is much smarter than my conscious mind and seems to come to accurate conclusions on insufficient data, so I listen.)

So I’ve spent my time screaming what I think is obvious in the face of overwhelming opposition. Though some of them the rest of the world seems to be coming around on. One of those is “The population is NOT exploding. Paul Ehrlich was wrong on this too, as on everything else. What we have are incentives to over report. The real danger is population dearth. The only real wealth is human beings and human minds.”

But there are others. Oh there are others, and some of these I scream in the face of my own unalterable pessimism. And the thing is, although the pessimism shouts back that all is doomed, so far the optimism has been correct. Whether I’m like the man falling from a high building, passing the fifth floor window and going “So far so good.”is way way above my paygrade. And I likely won’t find out in my lifetime, even if I live another 40 years, which is unlikely but possible.

Because what I’m saying is not that the fight is DONE and everything will be rainbows and flowers from here on. That has never happened in the history of humanity and never will. Humanity is forever on the edge of a precipice. All we can do is catalogue the good, the bad, and hope that our descendants keep good trends going or combat the bad.

However, these my inner voice thinks is true:

In our current fight, we have already won. What remains is mop-up which, as we all know, is the most dangerous portion of the action, because the enemy has nothing to lose and will go all out to take even one of us.

We — potentially, there’s a couple of big inflection points ahead — stand on the very edge of a mountain of achievement that will take us to the stars, make us a multi-planet species and make our descendants healthy and wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice. Which in turn will create more achievement, because that’s how it works. (And no, it won’t be paradise. No paradise in this sorry world where world means this universe.)

Everything is upgef*cket and will need to be rebuilt in the next 20 years. Everything: Physical infrastructure, education, institutions, our transmission of our civic culture, the rebuilding of faith in our churches. AND don’t get me started on the rest of the world. We might be able to do it. I’m not sure about them.

AND the dictum meeting with even more resistance than those: Stop blaming and beating the young. And by young in this case I mean 45 and younger. Every generation complains about inheriting a broken world. They didn’t in fact inherit a broken world. Neither did we. Neither did Cain and Abel to use metaphor. The world is no more broken than it’s always been in this our vale of tears. THEY DID HOWEVER INHERIT AN EDUCATION SYSTEM AND INSTITUTIONS THAT CAN’T BE TRUSTED. NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT.

Look, all of us, even people my age (this isn’t saying much as I came after. More on that later) were badly educated for the world as it is. This is because since the eighteenth century or so the world has been changing faster than the culture, mostly due to tech, and the whole process is accelerating.

I, for instance, took a degree in languages and literature which yes, would have given me instant entrance into a teaching profession (in Portugal) and since I’m insane and came out with seven languages and at the top of my class in most (except German, and even there I was in the top ten. I just hate German. It’s too organized for my brain.) supposing I got a personality transplant, I could have become a diplomat of some sort. (This was what mom, G-d rest her, was holding out for. It’s like she never met me. In answer to her hopes, my brother drafted a newspaper article from 2030 where I’d been declared Persona non grata in every country in the world, including Portugal.)

But the degree wasn’t actually designed for any of that. What it was designed for was to make me “an accomplished young lady” who would shine in the marriage mart. Because it was established that long ago, and universities in Portugal were very slow to change in spirit. (And yet a bunch of Marxism had crept in, mostly through literary analysis. No. It’s no more valid there than anywhere else. The people who maintain that the theory is wrong but “still valid” for this or that are actually saying “So the theory that there are cows on the moon is complete insanity, but still good for NASA mission planning.” Come again? I must be hearing wrong.)

This is normal. This is bog standard. This is what we always went through. And part of the reason when young we think the world is broken for us specifically. Because we’re young we trust what we were taught and are angry and bewildered it doesn’t match anything.

My kids generation and later (I COULD have kids who are now forty five, if I’d got started early and if my fertility were higher than that of your average rock in the desert) had a particular cross to bear though that was much worse than that.

When I said “I came after” I meant it had already started in my generation, though we had it slightly better due to societal inertia. This is good and bad. Good, because we can understand how effed up things can be. Bad because we who are now grandparent age have internalized “everyone goes through this. They just need to fight harder” and then blame the young more. Which is very very bad, because the system has corroded further since our time and because if we were ejected into a world that was fast-setting jelly holding us down, they were ejected into a world that’s quick-set cement and with fewer resources than we had because education has also decayed further. Oh, no further than that. Let me tell you as someone who taught her kids around and after school, I saw some decay in what they got, but didn’t realize how dire things were till I met their friends. (Look, my kids are genetic, compulsive over achievers and tend to associate with their like. This means I’ve met the creme de la creme of their generation at least in their circles. The depth not just of their ignorance, but what they learned that is bizarrely possibly even intentionally wrong is unfathomable. You stare into it and the abyss answers back “Wut?”)

And every one of these kids now entering middle aged is still struggling more than we did in our twenties, because all of American (and we’re still the best of the west) society has been weaponized AGAINST them. They weren’t allowed to take crappy teen jobs to build resilience AND defray their college expenses AND give them a resume. (My kids made up jobs, but it wasn’t enough. There is no such thing as a paper route at 12 anymore. There isn’t even mowing the lawns for money. There isn’t EVEN a lemonade stand, because if they catch you they’ll fine you within an inch of your life.) We treat them like lepers and blame them for what they don’t know. AND to put the cherry on the cake, the project of our (spits) “elites” for the last fifty years has been to outsource their jobs to foreigners either legal or illegal, either here or offshore, because it’s cheaper. It’s not that the kids expect to come in at middle management. It’s that there is nothing but the crappiest, most weaponized against humans jobs (Retail, now, where you don’t even know your schedule day to day but you’re still required to keep it, blindly, regardless of other commitments, even family and classes. No, it’s not just the kids whining. Ask some of the commenters who are very much adults and stuck in that how much fun it is.)

Then there is the “came after” thing. Look, I knew that I — already — didn’t have the education my dad or my brother had. And it’s not modernization, since that hadn’t hit in Portugal. I was born in sixty two at the very end. (No, not a boomer, for this and many many other reasons.) My brother is almost ten years older. My brother went through school in the same elite set of schools (his was the boy’s side) I attended later. (Mom maneuvered into it with faked addresses, etc. It was public school but it was also where most people went into college. Not a lot. It was by grades on a final, national, blind graded exam. But about 2 to 3% of our high schools made it in, compared to 0.5% of the general population.)

My brother learned Latin and (I THINK) a modicum of Greek in high school. Mathematics through Calculus. Serious physics and chemistry and all the rest. He came out of high school with an education our recent college graduates have no way of touching till maybe a Masters degree.

I came in well, he was advanced faster, so a full 10 years or more later. Latin was gone. Greek was gone. Only French was taught, we had to fight for me to get English. The rest? Cutesy things like sociology (Scientific Marxism really. Yes, Weaponized Envy Fantasies) had been brought in. The rest was still there. And I still graduated from high school with what would now be a “general knowlege” (Whatever they call those) college degree.

However, even back then, at the dawning of the eighties, I knew I’d only been educated to about my brother’s Middle School level. I KNOW. I read his books. (And tried to learn, but like all autodidacts I have holes the size of the grand canyon and don’t always know where.)

What happened? Well, I didn’t find out until I was reading a book on the “educational revolution” of the sixties, which I’d picked up at a bargain bin, because it was a couple of cents, and I read everything.

What happened was the boomers. No, not throwing shade on those of you of that generation. This was “activists” plus the bizarre idea at the time that the youth cohort would keep increasing, be a force in politics, and we should APPEASE them now, instead of making them learn and work. (You see this in Heinlein’s novels. I don’t remember in which high school students were striking for higher pay and no homework. Yes, satire, but it tells you what people at the time expected of the future.) Turns out the “Student revolts” of the sixties and seventies weren’t all anti-war or for the transmission of lice among the unwashed. They also demanded and got a watering down of the curriculum, the retiring of strict professors and well “Credentials for nothing and our degrees for a lot of money but no effort.” The truth was the colleges were, of course, cool with that. because more money, less work, more power to bureaucrats.

The “revolution” propagated downward, particularly as a lot of the graduates of those times became the teachers my generation got in middle and high school. (Which explained the plague of “Call me John. I’m just one of you. You’ll teach me more than I teach you” we started getting hit with in sixth and seventh grade, and which MULTIPLIED.)

Wait a minute, Sarah, you’ll say. You were in PORTUGAL. How did that propagate? Are you really going to ask that? For my entire life — my parents’ entire life and dad is in his late 90s — the future has come from America, and everywhere has decided whatever America did was the thing to do (all while hating America. Humans, amiright?) For illustration see covidiocy. And also foreigners tend to do it harder and more stupidly. When America Sneezes the rest of the world catches pneumonia.

So I know what it’s like to be ejected into the world half-taught. And husband and I had to fight his parents to get them to understand the “get a job, be loyal, they’ll be loyal in return and you’re set for life.” We came into the work force in 1980. Most people got jobs after a long period of working crappy temporary jobs. Thing is there were A LOT of temporary jobs (this was largely before outsourcing, so that was the hack to exploit people at lower wages.) And retail was not scheduled “at need” by computers, so you got your schedule a week or two even ahead. Pay was crappy, but the jobs were predictable. You could navigate two or — when I was in retail I had a friend who did this and so did her husband. For extra difficulty they also coordinated it so that one of them was always home with the baby at any given time. Heroes, both, but this isn’t even possible now. Now it would take a daily miracle — three retail jobs.

On top of that these people, adult citizens, who vote, were ejected into the world with absolutely no understanding of fundamental realities of life, like biology, history and economics.

“But they could learn” you’ll say. And I agree. They could. The amount they’re TRYING to learn is sweet and overwhelming and will bring a tear to your eye, honestly. Not all of these kids, of course (the killer of Iryna Zarutska is the age of one of my kids, after all) but by and large, the decent kids of these generations are fighting like heck to patch up their knowledge and learn what should have been their civilizational birthright.

This is very easy when it comes to things like “how to repair a toilet flush mechanism” or “how to cook beef Stroggonoff” or even “how do I maintain my lawn.”

For other stuff… well, as a mostly autodidact the biggest problem is you don’t even know what you don’t know. Latin and Greek, say are easy to figure out you should know, so you could read the foundational texts of the West in the original. Learning is a little harder, because all languages are harder in isolation. (It has occurred to me I should start a study group for these on Discord. It might help me.) But the other stuff? Do you know how many times I think I’ve researched something to the Nth degree for a book, and then a beta (Or, heaven forbid, a reader after it’s published) says “Sarah, your entire second half of the book is impossible. Don’t you know that x y z didn’t happen like that/works like this?” And no. I’d never stumbled on it in years of research, and honestly had no idea I was even missing it.

When it comes to things like history though (or economics. DEAR LORD economics) the ground shifts. Yes, there’s a lot of information and 99% of it is poisonously wrong. And they came out of school without enough information to know this is crazy cakes. AND with a ground in, bone-level distrust of the institutions that taught them or employ them.

I’m now coming across videos by thirty somethings on youtube who think Tartaria and the mud floods were real and really happened and are being covered up. This is not a joke. PEOPLE BELIEVE IT. And not stupid people.

Which brings me to the point of this post, over two thousand words in. We keep saying they weren’t taught history, but this isn’t true. They were taught history. That’s why they’re in a permanent panic about Nazis and completely missidentify what Nazis were and what they did.

Look, if you don’t live with a computer person: there’s a new thing called Vibe Coding, aided by AI.

I’m not going to diss WELL DONE vibe coding (Yes it exists, and I really am not dissing it, you can sit down Matt and Ian.) My husband assures me there is such a thing (so does ESR and he should know.) and it saves you time and is amazing.

For the rest of you: it is where you give the AI code instructions in plain languate, then use the code given. (This is grossly simplified. Again, sit down Matt and Ian. I’m not TEACHING vibe coding. You want to explain it better, send me articles.) It is best applied by those who understand code, because they can see where there are bits that do nothing or are just bad, and fix it.

It’s disastrous in the hands of those who don’t know what they’re doing.

The kids, and by kids I mean anyone younger than 60 were LARGELY (in the US there remained pockets of competency) taught vibe-history.

I was, but only for the twentieth century. The rest was much deeper, though honestly I don’t even know if I was taught it deeply in school, or it just felt that way because by the end of middle school I’d run through my father’s considerable historical library both fiction and non fiction.) When I came to the states I found an incredible emphasis on bullet points, dates and names, with absolutely NO understanding of what was behind it. You learned the “points” of the declaration of independence, but not where the ideas came from, why they were codified that way, what the opposition was. NOTHING. I believe this was because it was the early eighties, and it was easier to grade multiple choice, so teaching was mangled to fit multiple choice. (I could be wrong.)

OTOH I suspect the 20th century vibe history was intentional. I remember learning that the Nazis were racists. That they killed “inferior races” (And Jews. even at the time I remember a long argument with a teacher on “How the heck can they be considered either a race or inferior. A few brave souls in my form backed me. This was in Portugal.) that they wore impeccable uniforms and were all about the public order and cleanliness. And that Nazis preferred blonds. That they had death camps. That they were very hard on criminals (defined as anyone who disobey them.) AND were nationalists. They were evil.

Meanwhile, the communists were the opposite of the Nazis, and wanted everyone to be equal and free, loved all races, and were the good guys.

Yes, the holocaust was mentioned. (Not soaked in, as it was for my kids, but mentioned.) BUT note that it was all a bolus.

Since this was vibe-history with no context, you exited school absolutely convinced that any two of the Nazi characteristics was the road to hell. If you dressed impeccably and were blond, you were probably a Nazi. If you preferred to date blonds, you were a Nazi. If you favored order and justice upon criminals you were a Nazi. If you admired the military and read military fiction or bios (guilty) you were DEFINITELY a Nazi. And if you loved your own nation, its culture, its customs, its people? NAZI. Dangerous Nazi, as you were probably just waiting to exterminate everyone else.

Meanwhile the Communists were kind of like hippies with fewer lice (maybe.) They were into free love and hated no one, and just wanted everyone to be equally rich and happy. THIS DURING AND AFTER THE STALIN PURGES.

The reason this was so badly vibe-taught-history was two fold. What the Nazis were and what they did was the result of ideas — particularly state control, eugenics and state planned economy — which were everywhere at the time. The allies were slightly less tainted than the Nazis and hadn’t reached terminal state. (Looks at Canada and Great Britain who are getting there.) You couldn’t teach how the Nazis had become what they were without indicting FDR. So instead you pointed at other, incidental characteristics, and screamed. If that failed you pointed at Hitler and said they’d elected (doubtful, it’s more complicated than that) a madman and that’s what put them over the top.

As far as I know, this is still taught exactly this way. The kids have no way WHY the Nazis were objectionable. They just know they were and these characteristics accrue. Which is why so many of the young and the infantile old lose their minds every time we have a President who loves his country or works for the benefit of his people, and double lose it if he dresses well, or is married to a blond.

Because they know nothing but the code they were handed and which they don’t understand, of COURSE they think Trump is Hitler. To understand why he isn’t they need a short course in real history.

They need a course that makes them understand that given a state for whom citizens are possessions of the state, it always ends the same way and in the same tired old atrocities, whether they call themselves Nazis or Canadians. If the state thinks of citizens as objects to be manipulated for the benefit of the ever more controlling state, sooner or later eugenics creeps in (I’m looking at you Possessed Spain) and starts batch killing the old, the poor, the lame, the weird, and yes, any minority the state designates evil-bad according to what hat the state put on that morning. No madman needed. That mind set seems to make everyone a little mad and glad to sleep walk into hell.

And this is the problem. Of all the horrible things we’ve done to the young, teaching them Vibe-history is the worst. (And now it goes all the way to the prehistory and the mythical communist, matriarchal pre-history for which there not only isn’t any proof, but there’s plenty of evidence against.)

They’re navigating this world by maps painted by a madman with his own shit on the wall of an asylum.

They don’t even know what they don’t know.

The miracle is not that so many of them sound insane. The miracle is that the MAJORITY doesn’t. For that we must thank their innate distrust of institutions.

So what can we do? Teach. Teach as much as you can, by every means you can, patiently, gently, as respectfully as you can.

Yes, we’re old and tired (even those of you in your thirties. This timeline ages a sane person) and this is a very difficult job. It’s much easier to set fire to everything and hope paradise emerges from the ashes.

I have bad news. We’re here because people have been setting fire to everything for a hundred years. At this point, it’s hard to reach beyond the ash, the cinders and the radioactive cultural waste.

More fire will do nothing except make it harder.

Yes, you can walk away. Sure. Why not. You can wash your hands of the human project and walk away.

BUT you are as human as I am. If you value any shred of humanity, or our potential, of our future, and want our descendants to have a chance? Teach.

I’m not asking you to bring an history book to every casual encounter, or to go on a long-winded rant as I tend to on this blog.

I’m asking you to try to put in a word of truth and perspective. Here and there. As opportunity offers. And if you can, incorporate it in your art, your writing, games you create, anything really to help the medicine go down. No, not preaching, just the world view.

Truth has a force of its own. And the generations after mine are starved for truth. DYING for it, sometimes literally.

Stop calling them bad names and stomping on the hands trying to grasp the top of the cliff. Help them up and teach them how to stand.

So they can walk into the future.

*The Amazon links in this post all use my associate’s link, and therefore I earn a small commission from your purchases, at no extra cost to you.

I have a list my assistant is compiling of authors to promote who answered the call of responding if they were not afraid of being associated with this blog. I will be post them in the evening, ten at a time. Hopefully you find some new reads. If nothing else, you know these people are fearless. – SAH*

MEET KAL SPRIGGS

Kal is a graduate of the United States Merchant Marine Academy. He followed in his parents’ footsteps and joined the US Army after graduation and served as an active-duty engineer officer, a reservist, and as an active reservist. He is a combat veteran with deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. Kal has a master’s degree in environmental engineering and has worked in civil construction and environmental remediation.

His enjoyment for seeing new places has been facilitated by his career choices, and he’s been to over thirty countries. Kal likes hiking, fishing, and skiing, and his favorite places are typically in the mountains of Colorado. His other hobbies include wargaming, tabletop RPGs (both as a DM and player), metalworking, and just about anything else that takes his interest.

A father and husband, Kal and his family live wherever the Army tells him to (he doesn’t often get much choice in the matter) but he thinks of Colorado as home.

His website with more information, details on upcoming books, other random things can be found at kalspriggs.com His facebook is: https://www.facebook.com/kalspriggs

As an extra bonus, Kal once saved the Hoyts from being homeless for three months! (Long story, our lease ended before the house we were buying was ready for move in. So he stepped in at considerable sacrifice.)

Kal would like you to consider his book: Spectres of Valor: A Military Science Fiction Novel (Valor’s Cohort Book 2)

Century has fallen.

With their defenders killed or scattered, the alien Culmor Empire has seized and occupied the planet. Only a handful are able to oppose the aliens, hiding in the shadows and trying to survive.

That struggle is far more personal to Ashiri Takenata and Alexander Karmazin. They are both children of multiple worlds, one a refugee who dreams of her distant ocean planet, the other trained for the military from birth in the hopes of reconquering his stolen birthright. They have fought in the shadows to free Century and now they start taking that war into the light.

But they have stumbled across a terrible truth. The world of Century is too valuable for the aliens to allow it to be liberated. The Culmor have created a doomsday plan, one that will leave the world’s cities as smoking craters, that may well scorch the world’s very atmosphere away.

To fight the aliens, to free their world, Alexander and Ashiri must become more than shadows, they will need to become spectres, able to strike and disappear without a trace. If not, their friends, families, and entire world may pay the price.

MEET J. F POSTHUMOUS

Wife and a mother of five, J.F. Posthumus is an IT Tech with over a decade of experience. When she isn’t arguing with computers and their inherent gremlins, or being mom to the four younger monsters (the eldest has flown the nest and is doing quite well on his own), she’s crafting, writing, or doing some other sort of art. An avid gamer, she loves playing Dungeons & Dragons, and a variety of other board games with her family and friends. She’s also a hopeless romantic, thanks to all the fairy tales she cut her eyeteeth on—they were what J.F. Posthumus learned to read before she discovered the Boxcar Children Mysteries. From there, she fell into the rabbit hole that’s reading, where she discovered a love for mysteries, fantasy, and the occasional romance. Since writing was her favorite subject, she naturally incorporate dice her love of murder, mysteries, and fantasy into her works.

This is J. F. Posthumous facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/jennie.posthumus

J. F. Posthumous would like you to consider her book: Scales of Injustice: A Injustice Series Novel (Corruption Universe Book 2)

Justice is deadly.

Violetta Cq’linns—a relentless homicide detective on the world of K’lais—lives by the law. But when she digs too deep into department corruption, she finds herself framed for the one crime she didn’t commit… murdering the chief of police.

Now, she’s a fugitive with a target on her back, hunted by the very force she once called family. With nowhere to turn, her only lifelines are a ruthless crime lord demanding a dangerous favor—and an old flame whose loyalties are as unpredictable as her own fate.

But Violetta isn’t going down without a fight. She was raised to survive. Trained to finish what she started. And the people who set her up? They have no idea what’s coming.

MEET SHAMI STOVALL

Shami Stovall is a multi-award-winning author of fantasy and science fiction. Before that, she taught history and criminal law at the college level and loved every second. When she’s not reading fascinating articles and books about ancient China or the Byzantine Empire, Stovall can be found playing way too many video games, especially RPGs and tactics simulators. She loves John, reading, and writing about herself in the third person.

https://sastovallauthor.com/newsletter/

If you want to contact her, you can do so at the following locations:

Website: https://sastovallauthor.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GameOverStation/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SAStovall/

Email: s.adelle.s@gmail.com

Shami Stovall would like you to consider her book: Knightmare Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 1)

“Knightmare Arcanist by Shami Stovall was rollicking good fun! Perfect for those who enjoy the Codex Alera series, the Thomas Wildus series and the Harry Potter series. Stovall is quickly becoming a name I look for.” – Seattle Book Review

Magic. Sailing. A murderer among heroes.

Gravedigger Volke Savan wants nothing more than to be like his hero, the legendary magical swashbuckler, Gregory Ruma. First, Volke needs to become an arcanist, someone capable of wielding magic, which requires bonding with a mythical creature. And he’ll take anything—a pegasus, a griffin, a ravenous hydra—maybe even a leviathan, like Ruma.

So when Volke stumbles across a knightmare, a creature made of shadow and terror, he has no reservations. But the resulting bond leads Volke down a path he never expected. One where he might have to fight against his hero to save everything he loves.

A fast-paced fantasy with magical creatures for those who enjoy the Furies of Calderon (Codex Alera series) by Jim Butcher, Unsouled (Cradle Series) by Will Wight, and Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan.

MEET CHARLI COX

Charli Cox is a best-selling multi-genre author. She believes in writing stories with humor because life can be dark sometimes; let’s embrace a little joy wherever we can.

Whistles of the Wendigo, an Alternate History/Military Fantasy novel set in the Joint Task Force 13 universe from Three Ravens Publishing, is available now!

If you enjoyed Fae Wars: Northwest Front and want to see more stories about Ash and “Gunny,” Cannon Publishing has you covered. “Sasquatch” is available now in the Cannon Fodder: Tales From the Gun Crew anthology. Also, please be sure to leave a review!

Representing #teamandmore, Charli’s first published short story is in The Phoenix Initiative: First Missions from Chris Kennedy Publishing. She has stories in Bureau 42 and Express Elevator to Hell, also from CKP.

Charli’s previous experience has been as a Realtor, HVAC Business Manager, IT Office Manager, and freelance bookkeeper. Professional skills such as drafting strongly worded emails transition surprisingly well into writing fiction.

An animal lover and #boymom, she lives in SW Oregon with her Leg husband, two sons, an Arabian mare, and two Husky mixes who think they are hooman.

Learn more about Charli and sign up for her newsletter on her website. Hang out with her on Facebook, Instagram, X, and/or TikTok.

Charli Cox would like you to consider her book: Whistles of the Wendigo: A Joint Task Force 13 Legacy Novel (Joint Task Force 13 (JTF 13))

When the war ends… a new nightmare begins.

The smoke of the Civil War has barely cleared when another battle ignites—this time, on the homefront. A fiery prohibition movement is tearing the state apart, and the governor calls in the US Army’s 6th Cavalry to keep the peace.

But peace is the last thing they’ll find.

On patrol, Sergeant David Wilkerson and his troop ride straight into a ghostly fog—and straight into hell. A terrified horse disappears—a mangled carcass returns. Something ancient and hungry has awakened.

The saloons go silent. The townsfolk go missing. The line between law and chaos is about to be crossed.

Now, with tempers boiling and terror creeping in from the shadows, Wilkerson and his men must ride into the unknown, face what lies in the mist…

…and stand as the last defense between Heaven and Hell.

MEET JAMES YOUNG

James Young is a double threat, both writer and publisher. James Young is a an editor / author of alternative history author and science fiction hailing from Missouri. Leaving small town life, James obtained a bachelor’s in military history from the United States Military Academy then went on to spend six years as an armor and staff officer in Korea, the Pacific Northwest, and Germany.

After serving his commitment to the Republic, James returned to the Midwest to obtain his Masters and Doctorate in U.S. History from Kansas State. License for evil, er, Ph.D. in hand, Dr. Young now spends his spare time torturing characters, editing alternative history anthologies with far more famous authors (see his Arc of Ares series), and admiring his wife’s (Anita C. Young) award-winning artwork.

On Amazon, you can check out James’ Usurper’s War (alternative history) and Vergassy Chronicles (science fiction) series, both of which he is diligently working on now that the academic yoke is from around his neck. Outside of Amazon, Dr. Young can be found at sci-fi conventions selling books and merchandise as James Young, Slinger of Tales. Stop by his booth sometime and he’ll be happy to tell you about his latest project then discuss World War II carrier doctrine.

In addition to his positive fiction reviews, Dr. Young also writes non-fiction military history. His books Barren SEAD (Vietnam) and Eagles, Ravens, and Other Birds of Prey (post-Vietnam through Desert Storm) chart the evolution of USAF Suppression of Enemy Air Defense doctrine from 1953-1991. Besides his books, his awards include winning the United States Naval Institute’s 2016 Cyberwarfare Essay Contest, placing as a runner up in the 2011 Adams Center Cold War Essay Contest, and having USNI select his article “The Perils of Distribution” for inclusion in the Leyte Gulf 80th Anniversary issue of Naval History.

This is his professional facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/ColfaxDen/

James Young would like you to consider his book: On The Sea: Naval Alternate History (Arc of Ares)

You seldom hear of the fleets except when there’s trouble, and then you hear a lot.
— Admiral John S. McCain

The sea. Bearer of commerce, fertilizer for empires, and a battlefield where the environment itself is set to kill the warriors who engage each other upon it. From the galleys of ancient Greece to the deadly, silent murder machines of the nuclear age, Mankind has set across the oceans to visit great harm upon their fellow man on distant shores. On The Sea brings you alternate endings to these voyages, with characters and points of divergence as varied as the oceans themselves.

Prefer your sea tales in an era of wooden ships, coal smoke, and iron men? Dragon Award Winner Sarah Hoyt (“For Want of A Pin”), 2025 Imadjinn Award Winner Dan Kemp, and Day Al-Mohamed (“Martha Coston and the Farragut Curse”) will give you all the splinters, canvas, and cannonballs you could ask for.

Like your torpedoes to be self-propelled rather than damned and your fleet actions wreathed in coal smoke? Veteran authors Joelle Presby (“A Safe Wartime Posting”), Rob Howell (“Far Better to Dare”), and Philip Wohlrab (“Beatty’s Folly”) bring you very different endings to the Spanish American War and World War I that stretch from the Falklands to the Irish Sea.

“I don’t know, I’m more a fan of Long Lances than Black Lung…” Dear reader, On The Sea has so many Imperial Japanese Navy cameos, there should be an Imperial Chrysanthemum on the cover. Two-time Dragon Award nominee Kacey Ezell, 2024 Imadjinn winner William Alan Webb, and Sidewise Award Finalist Lee Allred will give you turning points from the volcanoes of Rabaul to the far reaches of the Indian Ocean.

More a fan of Détente than Bushido? 2010 Sidewise Award winner Eric G. Swedin provides a new short story set in his When Angels Wept universe, while 2020 Sidewise nominee William Stroock keeps the Geiger counters growling with his short “Atlantic Flash.” If you like your points of deviation with more pho sauce and less unscheduled sunrises, 2025 Dragon Award nominee Justin Watson (“Decision Over Cam Ranh”) and editor James Young (“Mr. Ford’s Cats”) provide two very different views of war in Indochina.

Bottom line: Whether you’re partial to Ares or Poseidon, On the Sea has alternate history that scratches the nautical itch. With a carefully curated mix of previously published favorites and new stories, this thunderous conclusion to the Arc of Ares series reflects what happens when the war god brings his chaos over the water’s edge. Grab a cutlass or activate the CIWS, as the fish are about to get fed!

Editor’s Note: Also includes excerpts from James Young’s Wonder No More, an alternate history of the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

MEET GRAY RINEHART

Gray Rinehart retired from the U.S. Air Force after a rather odd career. “Eclectic,” he likes to call it. During his first and second assignments, he researched and wrote the first edition of Quality Education. He is the only person to command an Air Force tracking station, write speeches for Presidential appointees, invent a poetic form, and have his music played on The Dr. Demento Show.

After retiring from active duty, Gray became a Contributing Editor for Baen Books, and also spent several years on the staff of the Industrial Extension Service at North Carolina State University. His fiction has appeared in Analog Science Fiction & Fact, Asimov’s Science Fiction, Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, several anthologies, and elsewhere. His first novel was originally published by WordFire Press. He is also a singer/songwriter with three albums of mostly science-fiction-and-fantasy-inspired songs—two of which have been featured on The Dr. Demento Show.

Gray Rinehart would like you to consider his book: A Church More Like Christ

A church like Christ would
· Teach like Jesus
· Worship like Jesus
· Pray and live and love like Jesus

Is your church a force for good, a light in the darkness, an outpost of God’s kingdom in the world? Do the wounded find comfort and healing in your church? Do the broken find repair and restoration? Do the vulnerable find help and hope? Does your church offer refuge for the oppressed, a hand up to the beaten-down, and recognition to the unseen? If so, this book may not be for you.

If not—if your church is divided against itself, or focused only on itself, or more judgmental than caring—it may be that the church is not as much like Christ as it could be. A Church More Like Christ can help you examine how Christlike your church is, and give you new ways to think about what it means for a church to live out the faith it practices.

If the church were quicker to comfort than to condemn, quicker to heal rather than harm, quicker to love than to hate, disparage, or ignore, perhaps it would be a greater source of inspiration, strength, and change in people’s lives—and in the world. If so, it would be, in effect, more like Christ.

MEET JOSH GRIFFING

Josh Griffing is a lifelong lover of beauty and the written word. He blogs intermittently at subcreated-worlds.com.

Josh Griffing would like to consider his book: Pyre and Ice

A Crisis on Titan

“Me heat’s gone, Jamie!” McGregor said. “I can’t feel me leg!”

“No you doan’! I ain’t t’ set by an’ let my mate cark it up here! Ye’re one mate I ‘ave wi’ blood worth bottlin’!” Stobbins stooped and lifted McGregor from the ice.

Even through his gloves he felt McGregor’s right leg growing colder. But frostbite was the least of their worries as the men confronted a danger that threatened to destroy their entire mission from within.

Titan is a frozen and unforgiving world. Only men and women with fire in their hearts will conquer its cold frontier.Per author’s design, his book is released without DRM.

Meet Scott Huggins

G. Scott Huggins grew up in Wichita, Kansas and now lives in Wisconsin. At a young age, he fell in love with the worlds of Pern, Tran-Ky-Ky, We Made It, and many more. He studied all around the world, and speaks both German and Russian. He is a graduate of the Clarion Writing Workshop (1997) and sold his first story in 1999.

When he is not writing science-fiction and fantasy, Huggins teaches history at The Independent School. With his wife, he is in the process of raising children and tolerating cats. His favorite authors include G.K. Chesterton, Dan Simmons, C.S. Lewis, Lois McMaster Bujold, Larry Niven, and Terry Pratchett.

Scott Huggins would like you to consider his book: A Cold and Mortal Spring: A Flintlock Fantasy epic novel (The Wishkiller Saga Book 1)

What price would you pay to save your nation and your loved ones?

While on patrol in the grasslands far from the halls of power, Captain Aethal Paaling discovers evidence that an ancient terror has reached the rich soil of his home. The Lotus, a prolific growth whose addictive leaves devour their victims from within, turning their hosts into horrible, terrifyingly violent mockeries of humanity. Created at the dawn of history by the twisted power of a godly relic called the Well, the return of the Lotus may be a harbinger of even more horrors to come.

Carrying the fatal news to the capital, Aethal discovers that even in the face of death itself, the Lords will fight to keep their secrets and their power. With only the guidance of his legendary Greater Rifle and the aid of the Phoenix Lancers, the soldier must find his way through the halls of a forgotten holy order and into deep dens of crime seeking answers.

It is a race against time, because the Lotus may have already taken root among those he loves… and fighting it may cost him everything, including his soul.

“I really, really like this book. A lot. If you want heroes, honor, dastardly villains, and an existential threat to all human life, all wrapped up in battles, bloodshed, assassinations, treason, and men and women prepared to die for honor, you will too.” ~ David Weber, author of the best selling Honor Harrington series.

Meet Blake Smith

Blake Smith doesn’t know what she wants to be when she grows up. In the meantime, she’s a fantasy and historical fiction author, horse mom, and cat magnet, in between playing polo, gardening, and pretending to cook. She resides in Connecticut. Blake blogs at madgeniusclub.com

Blake Smith would like you to consider her book: The Hartington Inheritance (The Hartington Series Book 1)

Almira Hartington was heir to the largest fortune in the galaxy, amassed by her father during his time as a director of the Andromeda Company. But when Sir Josiah commits suicide, Almira discovers that she and her siblings are penniless. All three of them must learn to work if they wish to eat, and are quickly scattered to the far reaches of the universe. Almira stubbornly remains on-planet, determined to remain respectable despite the sneers of her former friends.

Sir Percy Wallingham pities the new Lady Hartington. But the lady’s family will take care of her, surely? It’s only after he encounters Almira in her new circumstances that he realizes the extent of her troubles and is determined to help her if he can. He doesn’t know that a scandal is brewing around Sir Josiah’s death and Almira’s exile from society. But it could cost him his life, and the lady he has come to love.

MEET LAURA MONTGOMERY

Laura Montgomery began reading science fiction when she was thirteen, when the local U.S. Air Force base donated many amazing books to the school she attended in northern Thailand. Laura practices space law in Washington, D.C. She has worked on space tourism and launch safety regulations, which, honestly, are not science fiction. She lives outside Washington with her husband, children, and dogs.

To receive updates about new releases, sign up for her newsletter at lauramontgomery.com.

Laura Montgomery would like you to consider her book: PLANTING LIFE: Shut the Kingdom (Near Future Science Fiction Adventure)

Nominated for the 2026 Prometheus Award for Best Novel.

The road to Mars has to start somewhere. It might as well be central Virginia.

Jack Darien scorns his parents’ path. After the disaster at his father’s Mars settlement, the high school senior scraps both his lifelong interest in space exploration and his college plans. Even his rescue of a college student from assault doesn’t make him see his own future any differently.

Jack becomes obsessed, however, when one strange comment from the attacker draws him to unravel secrets at the former Superfund site that is now Webb University, the school where his returning father teaches and eco-restoration reigns. What starts for Jack as a distraction from thinking of his future turns into a dangerous journey that puts him, his mother, and sister at risk. As for his father, Jack decided long ago the man was on his own.

It is universally agreed on the right that we need to change the culture. It is also universally agreed by most sane people that politics is downstream from culture. This falls under not giving orders that won’t be obeyed.

The part where I seem to be the voice screaming in the desert, to the point where I feel like … well me, twenty years ago screaming “We’re not at risk of population explosion. The population is probably already falling and we’re at great risk of population dearth!” is this: The culture is already changing, and for cultural change, it’s changing at a FAST clip. And it’s changing our way, at that.

Instead, every time I try to say this I’m met with screaming, fits, tantrums and destructive rages and assurances that no, we’re more broken than ever and the only solution is to burn it all down.

Right. So part of that — only hell itself who spawns them knows how large a part — this psyops agents for the other side. And by other side I mean foreign agents opposed to us and perhaps our very own entrenched, insane commies. Though if you want to believe the other side has a more theological dimension I’m certainly not going to stop you.

My response to that psyops is: if it were already lost they wouldn’t be shelling out for such a large fifty cent army to convince you to burn it all down. They’re evil and delusional, but not that stupid.

So, past the psyops, what is at work here? Why are people so despairing about changing the culture if I’m right and it’s already changing?

Because they don’t understand the breadth, the span and the limits of cultural change.

Look, I was born to a nautical culture. Not that I grew up by the seaside. I mean, we spent at least a month in summer going to the seaside every day for most of the day. This was considered (maybe still is, in Portugal) absolutely necessary if the child is to grow up even middling-healthy. The trip there, given the roads and transport available to us at the time was over an hour and sometimes over two. (Yes, there and back every day.) Now it’s fifteen minutes, to the point that it would be a practical way to live “by the sea” without spending too much money. Times change, in physical plant at least. But the area I came from still doesn’t consider itself seaside anything. The culture looks inward, towards land and farming and the closest they come to the sea is buying fish carcasses to fertilize the fields. This makes sense. The highway system has existed (to this extent) for less than 40 years. And almost universal car ownership for less than that.

Bear with me, this has a bearing! (And not exit pursued by a bear.)

However, all of Portuguese metaphors, culture and images is nautical. For obvious reasons.

So, when i think of turning a culture around I visualize turning a sizeable sail boat around. Under a certain technology and for a long time this was basically impossible. Not really, but it amounted to being impossible. At least if the wind were a certain way. Then tech was invented (I believe, though not my metier an arrangement of triangular sails) so one could tack against a contrary wind. And it became possible, but for large boats still difficult to do a you turn. It has to be done slowly and carefully lest it pitch us all in the drink.

Now imagine a boat the size of the US and all the minds in it, and cross winds and currents composed of all the countries (and enemies-domestic) who wish us ill.

It’s going to take time.

Normally culture takes a very, very long time to change. Things learned with mother’s milk are almost impossible to eradicate and the only thing that comes close is INDIVIDUAL immigration and acculturation. Even immigrating with your family slows that process. For an entire group of people… you have to wait for people to die is what it amounts to.

“But Sarah, they changed culture without waiting.” Are you sure about that? They’ve been at this, one way or another for 100 years. But to an extent you are right, as the last sixty years the changes have been lightening fast culture wise.

There’s two reasons for this: It’s not change so much as destroying which is different. Hold on, I’ll explain later.

Second: they had full control of innovative and pervasive CENTRALIZED tech and organizations that they controlled UTTERLY.

On the first: they weren’t actually aiming to build and replace, not after the first thrust was effectively defeated in WWII (because the thrust was eugenics, scientific government and control of industry and business by government, not the specific flavor. And granted it was defeated in varying amounts and not completely anywhere, though the US came closest.) What they were aiming was destroying current and old culture, so that the “new thing” could grow. All they really achieved, predictably, was the destruction part. Even then, this was only possible because the culture, even before what we’ll call for the sake of disambiguation the “progressive” project (which was left and right at least until Reagan really), was in massive crisis, still convulsing at the shock of easier transport and the full blooming of the industrial revolution. (Heck, it hadn’t fully recovered from the black plague. That’s how slowly culture changes.)

Thing is that culture changes very slow because assumptions get embedded everywhere from nursery rhymes to stories adults listen to, to LANGUAGE ITSELF. And that’s hard as heck to get out.

By that definition, we’re achieving turning the ship around at an almost unheard clip, even faster than the progressive project did.

The reasons for that are even more technological change that doesn’t accord with the centralized everything that the progressives used AND — very importantly — the fact their “change” was a hastily applied patch. They could force public and outward compliance, but all the stuff from the late 19th century remains in ferment underneath and returns in weird ways.

Now the patch is breaking we’re seeing crazy cake stuff, of course, because to the shock of the industrial revolution we have added more and spicy tech shock, so that people are all reeling and the culture hasn’t resolidified. This is why we see clever fools arguing for monarchy, which culturally speaking is like a twelve year old becoming so traumatized that they decide to un-potty-train themselves. We’ve done that sh*t before. Enough.

But there’s also, somehow, healthy culture coming back. Or perhaps it never left, just was afraid to show itself. Underneath it all, people generally speaking have their head on straight, far more than you see in the visible parts of the culture. (Visible because they scream, cry and throw themselves on the floor, or threaten others.)

So why are those, shall we call them institutional? parts of the culture not only so broken but so resistant to being kintsugied?

Well… it’s the culture thing. In this case institutional and workplace and specialty culture.

In a time when our education institutions taught almost nothing practical, the repository of “how to do things” is almost exclusively “learned by doing” which means my generation (roughly X, okay) and older are the ones holding the keys to “it’s done this way.”

These are also the people that are most unwilling or unable to see who things have changed and that the progressive project has failed everywhere. PARTICULARLY in the fields that were wholly taken over by the left to the point that people were promoted on ideology rather than competence. And yet they still have some competence…

Let me explain: All of us are sick and tired of things that Amazon does and youtube does, not counting the funny gals over at netflix and such.

BUT what they do is absolutely predictable and will only be resolved by time and replacements.

Or put it another way: When Jeff Bezos created some kind of video/tv/movie dpt for Amazon, who could he hire? Well, people who had come up through the system in such fields. The only way to be sure they knew what to do ws to go to the heads. And of course, those were ideologically chosen and so– the new thing was as lefty as the old.

Same for who he put in charge of the book division, which is why they’re favoring trad pub, and say that ebooks have hit a natural ceiling. (Screams in “it’s all so tiresome.”)

When you guys rage against Amazon and I say “they’re not that bad’ I’m not saying they’re NOT bad. I’m saying they’re the best of the field. Because they all hire from the same tainted pool.

This will change. BUT the change takes time.

At the speed of filling graves? Maybe. In this case I think it will be faster as it’s becoming obvious even to those who wish to be blind that expertise in the field as used to be doesn’t have anything to do with the field as is.

And AI animation is about to kick the entire process into turbo by making every guy with time and a computer a movie maker.

I suspect it’s the same for almost everything including even stuff like manufacturing, which in turn will change the process of innovation, because if you can build a better gizmo in your garage and compete with the big boys, chances are a few million people will.

And culture will change, or at least back away from the progressivist nonsense. It will, of course, find other nonsense. And there’s still the problem of potty training all those monarchists again.

However, things are going our way. Just slower than any of us will like, but that’s the way life is.

Cultural boats turn around very slowly. Particularly in crosswinds. Mind the tiller and take care not to fall into the drink.

Steady as she goes.

Never Leave a Fallen Comrade, or Yet Another Reason America is the Greatest Country in the World. -A Rant by Padre0875

News broke on Sunday morning that the US had rescued an American pilot who was shot down during combat operations in Iran. (Seriously, God? Shot down on Good Friday, brought out alive on Easter Sunday morning? You need a better editor. No one is going to believe that.) I’m glad he’s home and that we got him out.

But, there are a ton of hot takes from liberals and foreigners online about how America lost and destroyed a bunch of equipment during the rescue operations. “Is it worth the millions of dollars of equipment just to get him out? You lost two C-130s and an A-10.”

First, I know that looks like a lot. That’s probably your entire air force! But also, by even asking that question, you show you know nothing about America and its values. America, from before its birth, has prized human life over treasure.

During World War 2, American aircraft were at a significant disadvantage early in the war compared to the Japanese Zero fighters. The Zero was faster and had a better climb rate. But, those advantages were bought a price. The Zero sacrificed its armor and this made the pilots more vulnerable. The Americans won the war because our pilots would come back and get another aircraft. But, after June 1942, a significant portion of the experienced Japanese carrier pilots were dead and their fleet carriers were at the bottom of the Pacific and those that were left could not compete with the improved American aircraft that were coming. The US had an advantage that it would never lose, though it took three more years for the Japanese to realize this. The US was willing to sacrifice performance to bring its pilots home and that proved decisive in the end.

This is also seen in how the American soldier knows that the US will move heaven and earth to come and find them if they are wounded, captured, or dead. We know that we are valued at a level that foreigners will never understand and that our sacrifices are valued, which means we will fight harder and endure more in return.

The movie (and book) Black Hawk Down is a classic example, but it goes further back. The US launched a punitive expedition on Tunisia in the early 1800s because they were attacking our ships and capturing our sailors. We went to war with the greatest power of the day in 1812 because they were taking our sailors to serve on their ships.

The Son Tay prison raid also shows both of these points. During the Vietnam War, the US found out where the North Vietnamese where holding some of our pilots. So we trained up a raiding force to go in and rescue them. During the early practice runs, the raiders realized that crashlanding a helicopter directly into the compound would significantly increase the likelihood of success, so they wrote off the helicopters as the cost of doing the raid. The leadership chose to sacrifice equipment to make it easier to rescue our people.

No American prisoners were rescued as the Vietnamese had moved them a couple days before, but the raid was regarded a complete success. The compound was destroyed with minimal casualties on the part of the American forces, only a twisted ankle and it led to some critical changes in how the North Vietnamese dealt with American POWs.

The Cabanatuan prison raid in World War 2 is another example. When intelligence told the American Forces in the Philippines in 1945 that the Japanese were going to execute Allied prisoners, they sent Rangers in to rescue them. At the cost of two dead, they were able to rescue over 500 Allied prisoners.

Some people might argue that rescuing pilots in particular is critical because they are elite and important members of society, as well as being highly trained. However, that loyalty to your fellow soldiers transcends ranks. When I was in Afghanistan in the last 00s, every soldier who deployed was given a rescue beacon and basic training in how to signal rescue forces in case you got caught behind enemy lines. We knew that the US would do whatever it took to bring us home.

And it wasn’t just the rescue equipment. We were given high-grade body armor, improved equipment, and the best medical care available if we got injured. We had plans in place to evacuate the wounded to trauma hospitals, then back to the US.

Also, we know that even if we are killed, the US will do whatever is necessary to bring us home or make sure we are not forgotten. Submarines that don’t return home are regarded as “still on patrol” and a message is sent yearly to them, letting them know we haven’t forgotten. The US has entire units dedicated to finding and identifying the remains of those who are MIA. This is how Father Kaupin’s body was identified and brought home for burial.

We have plans in place to bring the dead home from combat theaters. The dead are brought home to their families who are flown out to meet them and senior governmental leadership is there as well, including the President at times. A plane flying a body home has precedence over any aircraft other than Air Force One.

How many times have we seen a military member be brought home for burial in a community that is not their own, perhaps because the family is new to the area and the community shows up because it is an American Soldier? The loyalty of America to its service members is unlimited. (You can make the case that this was not how it was done in Vietnam, but I would argue that this is an exception and the result a foreign occupying belief system that is at odds with America and the sooner it is expunged from our society, the better.)

The loyalty goes both ways. The American soldier and veteran is often the foundation of the community. They believe that they have taken an oath that will never expire- an oath that is not to a person, but to an idea. You might say, USAian-ism. And it is that attitude that is at the base of why the US will spend unlimited amounts of treasure to take back its people.

It is born from the belief that no man is better than another, that no one is better simply because of what family they come from or where they were born. That “All men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

From its very inception and in its founding documents, America has believed and put into practice that human life has value simply because it is human. It is a gift that we have gotten Judeo-Christianity, that Man was created in the image of God and that that Imago Dei conveys worth in and of itself. And therefore, we will (must, even) sacrifice any amount of treasure to get our people.

Not paying the Danegeld, but going in and taking them back with the skills of the greatest army on earth because we know that once you pay the danegeld, you’ll never be rid of the Dane. If it means sending in a Marine Expeditionary Unit, SEAL Team 6, or some other highly trained unit, if it means sending a multiple waves of close air support or B-52s to provide cover or a distraction, if it means paying whatever price is needed to get our people back, we will do it.

So when you see people mouthing off online about how we lost equipment and questioning why we would go in and get one pilot out? Understand that those who ask these questions are not Americans. Answer them as such.

A couple of weeks ago we drove to have dinner with Charlie Martin. We normally try to do it once a month or so, but lately I’ve been fighting the sinus infection from heck again (I suspect it’s the fact that my CPAP doesn’t have adequate humidity, since this trouble started when we changed our machines. Yes, it’s being dealt with.)

So it’s been a couple of months, but we went to dinner at one of our usual places (we like dives. It’s a thing) and as we were eating, I was talking about the uses I’ve found for AI which is mostly images, but also research. So long as you verify the research (don’t be an idiot!) you’re fine. And also the keeping of story bibles for my myriad worlds and how much easier it makes it to start finishing things. I’m excited because research and or patient cataloguing that would take me years can now be done in a week.

Look, yes, I know it hallucinates. EVEN when reading my books. But there are techniques to make it more reliable. (Honestly? Mostly feeding it small chunks at a time. it loses the plot at about 40k words.) And if you want to feed up your book (local LLMs only, for reasons) and ask “What’s the description for Innkeeper of Inobart?” a minor character on book 4 that you want to revisit? It spits it up and/or the page you should look. Yes, always verify. LLMs lie like a two year old who doesn’t know what to say and just says a thing, never mind what. But used carefully it’s a fricking game changer for my job. I might be able to finish some of the historicals that have sat unfinished forever. Given a couple of weeks without coughing my lungs out, say.

And that’s without touching animation. Oh, Lord, people ANIMATION. Right now the tools I have access to because I don’t want to pay 20k a year (Mostly because taxes leave me very little more of my money than that, since I have to pay social security both sides, etc.) it’s clunky and often weird, but even so, what I do say in the videos for the clanker songs? (Yes, more coming soonish. I’m working on two) I’d have given a body part to be able to do stuff half as good in the eighties. It would be considered impossible, not just then but FOREVER. Air-dreaming. Insanity.

Now? If I live long enough, I should be able to put out my stories in book, graphic novel and movie at the same time, with very little more work in about … ten years. And that’s the PESSIMISTIC outlook. I think it will be more like five. Maybe less if I can write more and spin up more money to fund this stuff. (And maybe hire a local kid to help with some of the administrivia. We’ll see. Right now the Little Pickle (Younger DIL) refuses to be the kid. Eh.

And then Charlie and Dan got to talking about things I don’t understand. Calculations and programming that’s beyond my reach.

And Charlie said “What a time to be alive!”

He’s not wrong.

Yes, it also has serious issues. I’m not denying that. All technologies do. The type of warnings I’m hearing about AI I’ve heard before — being in the creative professions — about … visual arts programs and short cuts; about wordprocessors; about desktop computing.

But hear me out: Most of the AI risk is not about the AI itself. It’s about the intersection of AI and human.

If you weren’t alive and/or banking in the 70s you’re probably unaware of how many times we got told the horrific mistakes in our accounts were “computer error.”

Were they computer error? Oh, hell no. They were human error in intersecting with the computer.

And part of this is that humans tend to think of every new technology as magical. If any of you know boomers (real boomers, not the generations they co-opted) you know they STILL think that computers are magical and “so intelligent.” Because that was the propaganda of their youth.

I once had to explain to a friend he couldn’t do search and replace in the word processor with the replace field empty, because the computer DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO REPLACE IT WITH. Because in his head, the computer was smart and should know it.

This led to endless “computer errors” which were actually “human errors in thinking the computer is magical.”

We’re seeing the same thing with AI. And we’re going to see the same thing in AI. Because it’s human.

Most of the panicking AND the insanity about AI? Comes from science fiction of AI, just like the insanity about computers came from science fiction about computers. (People, if you write science fiction, lie responsibly, please.)

I keep running across people screaming and running in circles, because we’re “building skynet.” Are we? Oh, for f*ck’s sake. Sure, we can, but it will be an exceptionally retarded (used advisedly) Skynet. It will actually be a universal brain acting like a two year old terribly eager to please you. THAT will not work like the super-smart Skynet of the scary SF. That comes from the same smart computer mythos.

And yes, lonely kids are confusing LLMs for friends. The problem is the lonely kids, not the LLM. And the adults that drop into complete psychosis by talking to LLMs are the same sort that abused hallucinogenics in the seventies or joined cults in the eighties, or whatever. The crack is in the human heart. LLMs are just as inadequate at navigating it, as ANYTHING ELSE.

I think LIKELY Grog standing around his campfire was terrified of what fire would do. “We’ll eat differently. Kids don’t have strong jaws anymore. And think of the danger. Fire might decide to just kill us in the night. I mean we don’t really know what it is.”

But it’s not just that. Look, as f*cked up as medicine is — and it is right now, partly because they’re at a crunch time before the technological innovation explosion — and as much as it shat the bed during the Covidiocy (look, it’s like the church shat the bed just prior to the enlightenment. Yes, it did. BUT the government enforced it, and most people aren’t born to be martyrs.), there are things coming on line that as as revolutionary as anti-biotics, and as amazing.

Just the anti-diabetes, weight loss drugs…. boy! (Even if they don’t seem to work for me, since my issue is NOT eating too much. I often forget to eat, in fact. I think eventually, long after my death they’ll find what made it so difficult for me to lose or even stop gaining weight is that my brain thinks I’m supposed to be seven feet tall and controls caloric absorption accordingly.)

I know more people surviving and living with serious conditions than ever before. Now part of it is my age, but unless I’m very wrong, a lot of it is that people are surviving those more, particularly the big C. (Which really cheers me up since my dad’s family when they go early — defined as sixties — go from cancer. Normal cancers, like breast and uterine, yes, but also lung, brain and one over achieving great uncle of SKIN cancer which is almost impossible if you’re of Portuguese ancestry, by reason of we’re a lot darker than Northern Europeans.) Particularly since every “Gateway writer” I know either died of or survived brain cancer. This is hard to prove since “gateway” writing is self reported, but the congruence with those I know were gateway has me terrified.

I mean, my brother has lung cancer. Even ten years ago, they’d be “managing” it to an easier death. Instead, it’s stopped. He will die WITH cancer, but not of it.

And some of the weird glitches with my genetic kludge of a body would already have killed me any time but when they hit. In fact, the tendency of things to come online just as I need them is making me lift and eyebrow at the Author.

Are we going to live forever? Unlikely. It’s always on the horizon, but I don’t think it’s likely ever. But can we live later and better? I’d bet you.

This is not just in writing, or programing, or medicine. It’s not just LLMs. This is going on in every field. And don’t make the mistake of the left of saying that this progress will leave a lot of people unable to work.
Did you know this is their explicit reason for favoring black people for make-work jobs in the government. They thought the 20th century would leave black people behind because they weren’t smart enough. THE SHEER RACISM OF THAT IS BREATHTAKING. But beyond that, the left makes a fetish of intelligence and IQ. And it’s bullshit. Even with new and shiny tech? It doesn’t take a genius, once it’s created. That’s the whole point.

Will people be left behind? Sure, those who give up. The way tech is moving it’s more like the people who are now baristas will be able to have their own mini, mobile coffee shop and be as creative (or not) about it as they’re able. And that, infinitely, into the future, in ways we can’t even imagine. Maybe plumbers will become herders of plumbing humanoid robots. (Humanoid, because humans are more comfortable with those.)

And that’s the other thing. Most of the problems with people dying rapidly, in fact a lot of the aging seems to be lack of interest in life. They stop wanting to do things, and the wheels come off, and then–

But now?

PEOPLE! What a time to be alive!

Things can be dangerous — they always are when things are moving fast in the tech department — and they can be crazy, and they can require attention. But they are not boring.

We’re not stuck in a position of “been there, done that.”

Tech increasingly compensates for the “disabilities created by aging.” And we can do and learn new things all the time.

What a time to be alive!

It’s not for us to control the day or hour of our demise, but I’m going to try to stay alive as long as I can, because I want to see as much of the story as I can. I want to create as much of the story as I can.

The future is so bright I got to wear shades. And I look good in shades.

I have so much to do and create. And G-d willing I get to.

It’s already been a strange day. Nothing bad, mind you, just…. weird. And it’s afternoon, and I have a gazillion things to do including re-typeset Witchfinder, finish a novella and– maybe a couple of songs.

I’m still cleaning up from big dinner yesterday. (The dishes. No, really. I use all the dishes, you know?)

So I’m not going to post now. I’m going to do the beginning of the world’s most epic promo post tonight, with writers who volunteered for this (If you want to volunteer, post either in comments or in Twitter) and Holly will collect you into a list. You don’t even have to be indie, the only requirement is that you not be afraid to associate with this blog.

For now, to mollify you, I’m posting mildly salacious pictures. See the boobies above.

There’s also:

And:

On the serious side, consider this an open thread to discuss the rescue of our airman or other amazing good news.
I’m going to go do work, and will be back this evening.

Love you all.

*First of all, a blessed Easter to those celebrating, and for those who celebrated Passover this week, I hope you passed dry shod from slavery to freedom. And now, the promo!- SAH.*

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. By clicking through and buying (anything book-related, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion. Remember though all of these submissions are from people willing to be associated with this blog. So if you’re trying to buy from people who don’t hate you, this is a good place to start.– SAH

FROM SARAH A. HOYT, ON PRE-ORDER COMING OUT APRIL 23: Witch’s Daughter

Some letters come from the living. Some come from the dead. This one comes with a formula that turns a rowboat into a miracle.

Seventeen-year-old Lord Michael Ainsling — youngest brother of the Duke of Darkwater, builder of mechanical marvels, survivor of fairyland — receives a letter from a man sixteen years dead. The inventor Tristram Blakley has not perished; he has been imprisoned by his own genius and begs the one mind in all of Avalon brilliant enough to understand his work to set him free. All Michael has to do is find seven missing brothers first and walk a magical path..

Fifteen-year-old Albinia Blakley has spent her whole life under her mother’s iron thumb — and her mother is a witch. The day Al finally escapes down a rope of knotted sheets, she lands in a world she doesn’t recognize, with no money, no magic kit, and no idea that the stranger who catches her is about to become her greatest ally.

Together, a girl with more secrets than she knows and a boy who builds machines that try to murder him must outwit a sorceress, navigate the treacherous courts of Fairyland, and unravel an enchantment years in the making — before a family is lost for good.

Witch’s Daughter is a gaslamp fantasy brimming with wit, warmth, and wonder, for readers who love their magic wrapped in velvet and their adventures served with morning tea.

WITH A STORY BY L. JAGI LAMPLIGHTER: Amelia: Counterrevolution

The UK gambled.

The UK lost.

The right people won.

That didn’t backfire at all.

In a critical moment for British society, the UK government created, not a video game, but a propaganda tool intended to prevent youth from being “radicalized.” In the most stunning of unintended consequences, that game introduced to the world Amelia, now a digital icon for the conservative ideas the creators feared as having too much influence.

Amelia: Counterrevolution is an anthology of Tales from the Lemurverse, celebrating irony, farce, and the embrace of Western civilization, culture and history that the Amelia meme has now triggered world-wide. In Amelia: Counterrevolution, readers will find a varied, entertaining approach to the latest internet phenomenon.

FROM TALEENA SINCLAIR: Everything Beautiful In Its Time

Everything Beautiful In Its Time

A Collection of Poetry

In Everything Beautiful In Its Time, the ancient rhythms of nature interweave with timeless spiritual wisdom to create a contemplative journey through both calendar and conscience. This collection moves from the observable world—spring’s capricious winds, summer’s dappled light, autumn’s memory-harvest, winter’s patient stillness—into deeper territories of the heart where biblical wisdom meets personal experience.

Drawing inspiration from Ecclesiastes’ meditation these poems explore the appointed times of human experience: birth and death, planting and harvest, mourning and dancing, silence and speech. Through intimate narratives of family, marriage, and faith, the collection traces how divine purpose unfolds in particular moments—a child’s escape from garden labor, the forgiveness cycle walked along Pacific Northwest cliffs, the gamble of loving deeply.

Rich with sensory detail and anchored in place, these poems speak to anyone seeking meaning in both the sweetness and sorrow that come to every table life spreads before us.

FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: Never Bind a Fox

If you inherited an antique puzzle box from your world-traveling uncle, would you open it? And if you did, what would you do with the things you found inside it?

Everything started when Terry inherited just such a box, beautifully lacquered with images of foxes. With some help from his buddies, he was able to get it open and discover the treasure inside it: a plate, a comb, and a tiny booklet in Japanese. For a group of college students more accustomed to art-book grimoires and cosplay-prop wizards’ trunks, it seemed like great fun to act out the spell that little booklet described.

Then Yumiko showed up. Cute, cheerful, and a cook like none of them had ever known, she seemed like a dream come true. But then things started getting very strange….

FROM LINDSAY PETERSEN: Shadow Chasers: Steampunk Excursions to View the 1878 Eclipse

A once-in-a-lifetime experience! Adventure you’ll never forget! Irresistible – to some.
In 1878 a solar eclipse was predicted, the shadow’s path to sweep from Alaska across the Rocky Mountains, promising an enthralling event guaranteed to strike envy into the hearts of others for the rest of your life. But how to get to the edge of the frontier safely?
Victoria Bearskin of the Wyandotte tribe and a student in Vassar’s astronomy program is forbidden to go. Nofina Nolana, an oyster pirate scoundrel from San Francisco orders his crew to hijack a ship to Juneau – which turns out to be Captain Nemo’s long-lost Nautilus submarine. From New Orleans Lurie and Clark ride paddle steamers up the mighty rivers of America’s heart to preserve images of the event.
While all eyes are on their sweet moments in moonshadow they overlook chance encounters with bad men, big animals and birthin’ babies. After all that, who would emerge from the mad gambles?
All learn there are no promises in this life, but there are second chances and new beginnings are born from once-in-a-lifetime experiences.
A stand-alone novelette of 14,000 words by Lindsay Petersen.

FROM FAY ELLEN GRAETZ: Brave New Farm

BRAVE NEW FARM chronicles the family of Rose and Sonya, guardians of the Anders’ generations-old homestead in the rolling hills of the Midwest.
The sisters are thrust into a contentious debate when they learn the government chose Greenleaf Township as a test site for clean energy production.
The entire farming community is at odds, pitting families in need of a financial windfall against those who choose to protect the pastoral environment at all costs.
When tragedy strikes Rose, the balance of power shifts and resentments fester.
Suspicions arise after another “farm accident.”
If justice is served, who will be left to tend the farm?
Who will mind the legacy of the homestead?

FROM NATHAN C. BRINDLE: The Cross-Time Kamaitachi (Timelines Universe Book 5)

I did not land here as a warrior, but a warrior I so soon became . . .

One moment, Dr. Yukiko Yamaguchi was in her high-tech singularity research lab in California, busily adjusting an electronically-leaky fitting playing hell with her instrument readings.

The next moment, she was falling through space, and landing hard in a wilderness area she would quickly discover was her family’s ancient stomping grounds in Japan – but with an apocalyptic twist.

A hundred years later, there would be legends of a great yōkai, a demon, whom some called a kamaitachi – a sort-of whirlwind, weasel-like creature with blades for claws, which catches up unwary humans and slices their skin. But this kamaitachi is no ordinary yōkai – rather, she is

The Cross-Time Kamaitachi

FROM HOLLY CHISM: Bar Tabs: A Modern Gods Story

Brief back stories on the characters from the Modern Gods universe.

FROM MARY CATELLI: The Enchanted Princess Wakes

Once upon a time, a princess was cursed at her christening — but not the one you heard of.

When the fairy decreed that Rosaleen would fall into an enchanted sleep, and how she would wake, the grand plans of kings, to unite kingdoms, failed. They sent her to an out-of-the-way castle in the mountains, in hopes the curse would do no harm to anyone else.

There, alone, Rosaleen lived and learned, and realized that she herself had to be ready to face the curse, and when it broke.

FROM JOE HUFFER: Suburban Moon: The Autobiography of Sam Wyatt (Hoosier Flats Book 2)

Sam Wyatt wasn’t always a lonely, one-legged drunk clinging to the dim light of the suburban moon. Once he was a husband, father, and a man who believed the world still held room for hope. Losing his wife shattered that world, and the year that followed buried him in bourbon, bitterness, and memories that cut as sharply as they comfort.

When a new neighbor with troubles of her own moves in next door, Sam is forced out of the bare existence he has lived in for too long. Their budding friendship forces Sam to face the hardest truth of all: If he wants a future he has to let go of the past.

Poignant, funny, brutally honest, and deeply human, Suburban Moon is a sweeping story of grief, redemption, and love. For anyone who has ever lost deeply, loved fiercely, or wondered if second chances happen — this is a story that stays with you long after the last page.

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them

someone be a better writer, not at crushing them.

And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and

grammar.If you have questions, feel free to ask. 

Your writing prompt this week is: Canvas

*I hope Caroline doesn’t mine my revealing that she’s a member of the Chinchilla of Hope group. This group of insane people cheered me through No Man’s Land and convinced me I shouldn’t in fact give the project up because “it will never sell.” As we know they were right. How they got their name was because I threaten them with Chinelos (the Portuguese version of chancla) when they misbehave. One of them is tragically dyslexic — I’ll let her out herself IF she wishes — and so got this as “chinchilla”. Next thing I know, I’m moping and she’s threatening me with the chinchilla of hope.
As such things do, it took wing, and now members of the Chinchilla of hope are writing stories. Caroline posted a tiny bit of this as a throw away thing, and I asked her to write the full story. Here it is! (You’re welcome.)

Geronimo for Hope! -by Caroline Furlong

Nose twitching in the waning light, Geronimo held his stick still, willing his whiskers not to move. The rest of the 15^th Hope Regiment were in the trees, waiting for his signal.

Winter clung to the land even though spring’s first breath brushed the grass and trees. By far, the grass was in better condition, with the trees still mostly naked. A few had buds sprouting on them here, and up the street a couple of ornamental pears had already bloomed, their snowy flowers missed in the mass of gray by all but the most attentive humans.

The sky had begun to gray over. It wasn’t a natural gray, not at all, and certainly not in the afternoon of a nascent spring day. Rain wasn’t due today, they had checked with the air sprites. That had been…interesting. Dealing with the Fair Folk often was, but these sprites had tested everyone’s patience with their forgetfulness. Poor Corporal Terrence had barely avoided shouting, he became so frustrated.

Flighty things, air sprites. Must come with the territory, Geronimo decided, scanning the ground. Sniffing, he tried to see if he could scent their prey.

No good, there was no wind. This gray mist over the sky was all the warning they were likely to get.

His chinchillas were good, though. They wouldn’t so much as twitch without the signal. Hope Corps knew they could rely on Geronimo’s regiment to get the job done, with minimal to no casualties, too. Not that he liked to rely on or brag about that; he had worked his way up through the ranks from Felix’s squad. Bragging tempted fate and made chinchillas less likely to watch their tails. Some pride was warranted – they did good work. But too much was bad for everyone, especially their clients.

Today’s client was a Mrs. Halifax, a codename, for safety’s sake. In this case, the target seemed to be Mrs. Halifax’s oldest son. He wasn’t doing well – not seeing friends, barely leaving his room, constantly arguing with his sister and brother. The latter wasn’t entirely unusual for a young teen boy but combined with the rest, it was cause for concern.

Mr. Halifax had tried talking to his son, several times. It had seemed to work, only then he had been deployed, and what progress had been made had slipped away. The Black Dog had returned with greater power than before.

So far it appeared there was only one dog. They had done recon, of course. Geronimo wasn’t going to risk his chinchillas’ tails like that. Regiments that didn’t get the lay of the land were asking to lose members. If it was necessary to rescue a client, then he would accept the loss. Otherwise, no.

Geronimo swept his eyes over the gray/brown ground between the trees. Lawns were showing green more than these areas, where last year’s leaves still lay deep and thick. Squirrels, those annoying cousins of his race, raced across the ground, setting up a cacophony and making hearing difficult. Blast those daft creatures, couldn’t they do their kinoodling some other time…?

Almost as he thought that, the squirrels paused. Held still, except for the odd flash of a tail. Geronimo felt his chinchillas tense.

Squirrels took off, bolting for holes or climbing up trees. A stealthy shadow moved over the ground, hardly disturbing the leaves beneath his paws. That was the trouble with Black Dogs. Unless they were looking for them, humans couldn’t see them. Sense them, hear them, yes – if they paid attention. Most didn’t because the aura a Dog brought in its wake only magnified the lies they whispered in their heads.

Unaffected by the squirrels’ panic, his chinchillas readied themselves. Branches didn’t move as paws gripped, relaxed, then gripped again. Teeth flashed in grimaces or grins while fur fluffed or smoothed down, each member of his regiment preparing ahead of their jump.

After a quick look at his men, Geronimo zeroed in on the Dog again for a better look. He blinked. Oh, he knew this one!

Wagging an ear, then another, Geronimo raised the stick. His chinchillas caught the message, shifting minutely. The Dog continued on, looking nothing so much like a pitch-black Doberman that had been on a diet of meat. He was thickly muscled and bore himself like a king.

Light seemed not to touch him, except where his eyes were concerned. Now they burned almost black but in the dark they would be coals of red. Geronimo grinned, remembering the last time he had looked into those eyes.

The Dog walked beneath the regiment, and Geronimo dropped the stick.

Dark eyes tracked toward the sound the stick made when it landed in the leaves and so the Dog didn’t see the 15^th Hope Regiment jump, the glamour falling from their pink suits. Pink would not have been Geronimo’s first choice for a color, but it always caught the enemy off-guard. Tended to send some Black Dogs running with their tails between their legs, too, which did help with missions occasionally.

But this time their prey was too slow. By the time the Dog looked up they were on him, cutting loose from their parachutes with the ululating war cries that caused humans to say “Aww!”, Fae to wince, and Black Dogs to fall to the ground whimpering.

While his ears pinched and he shook, this Dog was too strong to simply fall. He put up a good image of a fight, snapping and whirling even as Scathlock and Pip landed on his collar. Some were thrown off but not with such force that they risked harm.

They made it look good, though. Had to. If word got back to the Dogs, he would be in trouble. Geronimo himself howled out another war cry as he didn’t bother deploying the parachute, jumping and aiming for the snapping jaw.

He hit him with enough force to stun and then hung on as the rest of the Regiment swarmed up and onto the Dog’s back. Each of them swelled in size, feeding off one another’s triumph and strength, rallying with cheers and encouragement. It was enough to make the Dog stumble, his knees buckling. He tried to stand up….

Zena was faster. Geronimo’s second in command had retrieved the stick and now used it to open a portal directly to headquarters. A foolish move, if this had been any other Dog, but perfectly safe with this one.

They landed in the base’s deployment bay as Rufus fell to his belly, huffing a laugh. “You got me,” he wheezed, eyes flashing bright as he finally grinned. “Mind getting off so I can breathe, at least?”

Geronimo hopped off his snout. Most of the Regiment followed suit, but some clung to Rufus regardless – including that scamp, Pip. Geronimo glared at him but his nephew grinned back and dug his claws in. With an annoyed eyeroll, Geronimo accepted his stick back from Zena as the team’s sorceress passed it on. “What’s the situation, Rufus?”

“Boy’s dissatisfied with his life,” the Dog rumbled, shaking his head sadly. “Can’t entirely blame him, he’s being bullied at school. Won’t tell his parents, thinks he should handle it himself.”

“Friends?” Zena asked, materializing a pen, clipboard, and paper in her paws.

“None bigger or stronger than he is,” Rufus said, settling on his haunches. That caused most of those who had hung on to finally slide off, but Pip used it as the opportunity to climb higher and settle on the Dog’s shoulder. “They’re at more risk than he is. It’s part of why he’s being bullied. He’s protecting them.”

Whistling through his teeth, Geronimo looked over Zena’s shoulder as she dashed off the information. “Going to need Randy and his Specialists for this, I think,” he told her. The Hope Corps had Regiments to fight Black Dogs and Specialists to deal with purely human problems. Most got into position by acting as pets, but others found different ways to help humans more directly. Randy and his team were particularly good at it.

Nodding, Zena looked up at Rufus. “Anything else we should know?” she asked.

“If you don’t get him help quick, Command’s going to send a whole pack,” Rufus said grimly. “They know if they push the kid, they get more than despair. They get him dead at least, a lot of others hurt or dead at worst.”

“Our information suggests he’s stronger than that,” Sergeant Terrence said, frowning.

Rufus’ smile had no humor but also no menace. Just a weary sadness. “Even better, as far as they’re concerned. If they can’t break him, they get to train pups on him – and maybe spread influence to the ones he’s protecting.”

“Put a priority note in there for Randy,” Geronimo growled. “Thanks, Rufus. You were the one assigned…?”

“The only one,” Rufus confirmed, nodding. “I did my best, made sure to keep it down, but…he’s in a bad way, Ger. You need to get people on it, now.”

Geronimo made a sharp gesture and Zena put the clipboard in her mouth before taking off for the elevator that would bring her up directly to the General. He refocused on Rufus. “And how long has it been since you were, ah, in our custody?” he asked the Dog.

Ears drooping, Rufus let his exhaustion show as he bent his head so they could look one another in the eye. “Too long. Geronimo, please. I don’t think I can go back.”

“I told you last time there might not be any more fight left in you,” he said gruffly. Then Geronimo moved forward to put a paw on his leg. “Talk to the General. We can work something out, I’m sure. Some of your brothers are meant to keep up the fight, but you’ve more Dog than Black in you. Let Zelie do her work while we talk with the Powers That Be about arranging a home for you.”

A sigh whooshed out of the canine’s mouth, ruffling his fur. The big Dog nodded and his ears perked up. “Zelie’s back in charge?” he asked.

“Did I hear someone call my name?” a voice caroled – literally. Zelie’s shouts were almost always pitched with magic to ring around a room to get attention, mostly because even by chinchilla standards, she was tiny.

Rolling his eyes, Geronimo turned toward her, putting his paws on his hips as the Regiment and all the other workers in the deployment bay parted for Zelie and her troop of makeup artists. All wore feathers, makeup, beads, or ribbons in one or another shade of pink. The diminutive figure at their head wrinkled her nose at Geronimo before turning her face up to Rufus. “Dahling, it has been too long! You look awful, this won’t do! What do you want this time? The full treatment? Or the Special?”

“Special,” Rufus answered as Pip, seeing his aunt had come and not wanting his own makeover, slid down from the Dog’s shoulders. The rest of the miscreants had scattered long before.

Geronimo reached out and snatched the boy’s ear, causing him to yip as Rufus stood up. “Do you have any more of that hot pink nail polish? Please tell me you have that same raspberry conditioner….”

“You’re in luck!” Geronimo’s sister said, eyes sparkling. “We just got a new delivery. LADIES!” she sing-songed louder. “We are running the Special! I need the hot pink nail polish, the rosette bow, raspberry conditioner – and a perm?” she asked, squinting up at Rufus. When the big dog nodded she snapped her fingers. “Hup hup! Daylight is burning! Move it, ladies!”

Murmuring, the chinchillas behind her soon had Rufus surrounded as they ushered him down the hall to the private baths. Thankfully, those were reserved only for agents or defectors, so he would be safe. If they put him in with the regular captives, it’d be a slaughter.

None of which made Geronimo shake his nephew any less firmly, still holding him by the ear. “And what did you mean by that tomfoolery, you chipmunk?” he growled at Pip. “You know protocol dictated that once he’d let his head down and gotten the despair out of his chest, you were supposed to get off.”

“But it wasn’t all gone!” Pip yelped. “I –”

“You,” Geronimo growled, “are lucky you’re getting KP duty and that I didn’t let Zelie take you to the baths.”

The young chinchilla gulped, then looked up at his uncle, determined. “We’re supposed to bring hope to everyone. Sir.”

“Hmph,” Geronimo said, finally letting go of his ear to glare at him. Pip winced and rubbed the ear, then looked up at his uncle defiantly. “I think it’s time I had a talk with Randy,” Geronimo told him grudgingly. “He was right, all those years ago. You’re Specialist material, not Regiment.”

Pip’s ears fell, then lifted, his eyes lighting bright. Geronimo couldn’t hide a smile. After all, they were the Hope Corps, and they were in fact meant to bring hope to everyone. His nephew qualified as part of “everyone.”

Which didn’t mean he got off lightly. “Report for KP duty, stat,” he barked at the youth. “I want tonight’s nuts peeled better than they ever have been. Then we’ll see, once Randy gets done with his assignment for the Halifax boy, if he’ll take your ungrateful hide into his unit.”

Chest puffing out, Pip saluted. “Sir!”

(And if you’re curious, this is Caroline’s Author page on Amazon.)

As we know, this little assembly that gathers here semi-regularly, we’re all heartless.

Just listen to the left any day — and dear Lord, all day on Sunday. Don’t they have a life? — and you’ll find our positions come from the fact that we are, all of us, absolutely uncaring of what happens to whosoever the current “downtrodden” group that’s always “most affected” by whatever happens.

To wit, we don’t want government to pay for everyone’s health care. (I’m told women and children most affected.) We don’t want open borders and importing the poor and crazy of the sh*tholes of the world onto our land. We don’t think we should accommodate the “homeless” by letting them camp, sh*t and feraly attack people in public. Instead we’d like to see city regulations on vagrancy — from 1910 — sternly enforced, vigorous encouragement to get treatment for addiction, very vigorous mental health initiatives and let private charity pick up the rest. We think anyone stealing, murdering or raping should be punished to the heaviest extent of the law. Oh, yeah, and barring assistance on some very specific disasters, we don’t think we should be sending pallets of US taxpayer cash to “poorer” or “more needy” countries.

Therefore, we clearly don’t care about women, children, the elderly, immigrants, people of other colors (in my case not caring about people of other colors, depending on how you squint means not caring for white people,) the “unhoused”, we despise people suffering from “substance abuse”, we don’t understand the pressures society puts on criminals, and we want foreigners to die screaming.

I might be missing one or two groups we’re supposed to hate, in there. Oh, yeah, because we generally don’t want sex-f*ckery be it transitioning or indoctrination into all sorts of kink and fetishes done to people under the age of reason we’re also sexist, homophobic, transphobic, kinkophobic (I made that up) and repressive prudes.

In fact, the honest to G-d truth is that we’re bleeding hearts, each and everyone of us. We’re just bleeding hearts that think, instead of jumping from whatever propaganda image of kiddies with big tearful eyes is being shoved in our faces that moment.

Before I start this, I want to make one thing VERY clear: Although some functions, like the confinement of the irredeemably insane or intractably criminal MIGHT have to be done by the government and although things liek border enforcement BELONG to the government — government IS force, after all — in general, grosso modo, I prefer solutions that don’t involve the government. And if we have to involve the government, I prefer it be small, local and extremely well aware that its victims citizens know where government officials live, making torches is not that hard and any garden center has pitchforks aplenty.

There is a reason for this beyond my being — DUH — governmentophobic. You see, the further from you the government is, and the larger its apparatus is, the more it has to relie on bureaucracy for whom each citizen becomes a number on a colum.

And that kind of thing — ALWAYS — ends up with considering humans for their practical, material value. Let’s face it, a lot of us, (including me) when it comes to value to a distant, tax-farming government, are only suited to be fertilizer. And it always ends up in that. Always. The kind of shenanigans the Germans got up to in second world war ALWAYS happen in a government that’s too big and out of control, regardless of its alleged philosophy.

Being a bleeding heart, I oppose big government and all its works, and its false glamor, and its empty promises. Remember that as you read the following, since for some functions we still do need government, and I bitterly have to assent to that. For instance the defense of our borders is specified in the constitution. And just because we were assaulted with weaponized human waves it doesn’t mean it wasn’t an invasion and a novel weapon to deploy against a country which is stronger than all of them combined.

So, in order, I oppose so called “universal health care” on the government dime. You’d think after the horrors we’ve seen from Europe and Canada — ranging from children being denied treatment and their parents prevented from seeking treatment abroad, to euthanasia of the poor and depressed — you’d think this would be self-obvious.

Yes, medical treatment is very expensive, a lot of people go into debt to save their lives, etc. etc. etc. But giving it over to the government is ALWAYS the wrong way. It is at its most basic stopping belonging to yourself and belonging to the government. He who pays the piper calls the shots, which is what we’ve seen over and over again.

No, I don’t have infinite money for health care, or even as much money as Elon Musk, but I should be able to choose the options I can have, and how much I’m willing to sacrifice for it.

My bet, because each person’s health matters most to each person, is that overall returning choice — real choice — to the people, getting government money and government insanity out of health care would save lives. And I’m a bleeding heart. I want to minimize suffering. I want more people to be healthy.

I don’t want us to keep our borders open to the suffering multitudes of the world, because — honestly — there’s nothing for them to do here, other than draw welfare. Oh, lawns and such, sure, but they’re not actually NEEDED for that. They’re taking that work away from local teens that the government for… reasons… decided no longer should be allowed to work.

But what I meant is there is not the kind of work they can do that will lift them out of their wretched condition, allow them to integrate fully and be able to be as productive as our citizens are or can be. Look, the beginning of the twentieth century gave a lot of people a lot of wrong ideas. The wretched multitudes of Europe didn’t need to be skilled or even speak English to do line work in factories. And that work was, back then, valuable enough to allow them to rise and integrate.

Now it’s no such thing. The people we need are highly specialized and far fewer than we’re raining H1Bs on (that’s a weird scam to maximize profits and control over workers, and though a subset of this nonsense, is its own post, eventually.)

What they do is create a vast indigestible group dependent on welfare and (because illegal) various illegal scams and schemes for simple survival. Which is bad for the whole country.

BUT it goes well beyond that. The open border is demonstrably bad for the people coming in. Not taking in account that most women, girls, and a not inconsiderable amount of boys get raped on the way here, a lot of them are basically imported as slave labor.

That link is just one instance. There are countless others, even though no one is looking into. And yes, I know that’s from Canada, but it’s the same here. People arrive to the US in debt for their “fare” to be smuggled in, and have to work in indentured labor to pay it back. And even though the work they can do isn’t particularly valuable, you can still turn a profit if you treat them like slaves. Various criminal organizations DO. (Anyone remembers the kids rounded up working on POT FARMS in California?) And that’s if you’re lucky. For women and children the great danger is sexual slavery. If you think that the open borders didn’t start a river of that, you are dreaming.

It’s bitterly funny that the people who obsess about past slavery are creating the conditions for slavery in this country at this time. “Undocumented” — what a ridiculous word, as though they’d forgotten their drivers license in the other purse — people are people ripe for the taking, exploiting, abusing and worse by bad elements in society. They’re not officially here. No one knows where they are. They have no ties. Read up on serial killers. This is what their dream victims are made of. It’s what every bad guy’s dream victims are made of.

The administration of the Bidentia created more slavery and oppressive conditions than any time since that small disagreement between North and South.

I’m a bleeding heart. I don’t think people should be enslaved, exploited, raped, tortured and ill treated. I say close the borders and keep close track of everyone who comes in.

This by the way doesn’t take in account what the foolishness did to other countries, the countries of origin, many of whom lost all their young people. Who also came here for what turns out to be a lesser future.

Send them home. It’s the bleeding heart thing to do. In their culture, where they belong, they’ll have a better chance to thrive. Yes, some of those places are hellholes, but who should change that other than their young and dynamic population? Yes, I know it’s not guaranteed, but at least they’d have a chance.

As for the homeless, a friend pointed out yesterday the horrors of life for them. Just utter danger and hunger and disease and all the problems of raw, barbaric humanity.

We treat diseased dogs and cats better. Look, as much as I want to respect people’s civil liberties, etc, the problem we have right now is not one of “homelessness”. Or worse “unhoused.” You could give each and every one of those people a house tomorrow, and 90% of them would be back on the street in the same condition within the month if not the week.

In fact we do a deep deservice to the other 10% — some of my friends have been THAT for a time — who are genuinely homeless due to spectacular bad luck or a combination of toxic relationship/unemployment. Those people in fact can be helped and should/could be helped often by private charities, if it weren’t for the fact they get lost in the sea of the rest: the mentally ill, the drug addicted, and the inexplicable. (People who don’t seem to have any of the higher functions at all, and whether they were born that way or rendered themselves that way function at the level of animals.) THOSE people cannot be helped by throwing money at it, giving them a house or giving them a hand up.

Some percentage probably can be helped simply by refusing to let them camp in cities, letting them defecate in public, allowing them petty theft and threatening of the general population. Breaking the inertia might cause some of them to look for drug rehab programs, or such. While I do believe you should be able to put in your body whatever you want, this is predicated on — so long as you don’t force others to endure the consequences of your behavior. (For instance, prohibition was a disaster, but no one is suggesting DUI is fine.)

Others, and no one knows how many are simply a danger to themselves and others, but mostly themselves.

I hate to suggest madhouses for various reasons, but mostly because it curtails human self determination. However, there is no constitutional right to stand on the corner pissing yourself and yelling at foot traffic. Further, by doing so you are violating the rights of the people going about their lawful occasions, notably those of merchants and food vendors doing a productive job. I think it’s time to admit that throwing the mentally ill to the “community” was more throwing them AT the community with a trebuchet and it didn’t end well for anyone.

It’s time to stop throwing money at it and start looking after the people who can’t look after themselves. And yes, if we allow it and create the legal framework, a lot of this will be done by private charity. The remainder is a legitimate function of various levels of government. A lot of the mentally ill, notably a percentage of schizophrenics can be productive and relatively happy if they’re kept on medication. Unfortunately that requires a level of quasi-imprisonment to make sure the meds are taken on time, because the condition itself precludes them taking them regularly.

I’m a bleeding heart. I don’t want people rotting in street corners while still alive and dying of the most bizarre crap no one in the 21st century should die of. It’s time to bring back rehabilitation, madhouses and anti-vagrancy laws.

This incidentally also allows the poor (it’s almost always the poor) to live and work in city centers without being in fear for their property and lives.

As for criminals, I think they need to be severely enough punished to stop doing it. By criminals in this case — did I mention our penal code needs a severe pruning — I mean those who commit crimes against others. Theft, destruction of property, assault, rape, murder: all of these need to be punished swiftly and decisively. Heck, i think we should bring back public flogging and public hanging.

Some people are more prone to criminality than others. No, you’ll never prevent all of those people from doing evil. But a fear of public and horrible punishment will stop a lot of people from taking that path who would otherwise have taken it.

That not only spares those who would have been their victims, but it spares those people themselves from what is now an unproductive, unhappy and generally disordered life, in and out of jail or prison.

I’m a bleeding heart. I think it’s time to punish crime and protect the innocent.

As for sending money to all those disadvantages places as a matter of course, there is arguably a point that doing so has kept those places from developing their own industry, their own agriculture, or much of anything. We’ve made them resentful pensioners of the first world.

On top of which, look, most of those lands aren’t poor because they lack wealth but because they’re Kakistocracies and those in power steal everything.

If you send more over, you’re just giving money to the worst. And some of the worst might even be honest enough to take the money you sent them to put on an LGBTQ opera for the poor (of Bolivia!) and actually only embezzle half of it and put on the opera. Will no one think of the suffering of the public, not to mention the actors?

I’m a bleeding heart. I think we should let the working people of America keep as much as possible of their own money. And the kakistocracies abroad should be deprived of a teat to suck. Minimize unhappiness in the world.

And this is just scratching the surface of ways in which I’m a bleeding heart, so disturbed by the suffering of people that I think we need to remove every vestige of Marxism from our societies and– appropriate for the season– let the people go.

Because I’m a bleeding heart.