That's how my lawn must feel right now. This bloody hot weather, when all you need is rain. What is wrong with the bloody weather, when April is like July and December is like May? The plants are confused; the birds are confused; the bloody bees are throwing in their stripy towel and leaving the flowers unserviced and soon there'll be fuck all left to eat, except for meat and when that's gone, nothing; there'll be nothing... and it's like I'm not meant to be here. I try every day to write this bloody blog, to make it interesting, but there's always something holding me back, hemming me in, choking me, sucking the fucking living life...
Oops. Leapt off that downward spiral just in time. And all for the love of my lawn. I mean, if I'm not here, who's going to water it? No one. That's who. It's not going to rain. Never going to rain. April showers? April fucking showers? No chance. Not a cloud. Ne'er a cloud, just the staring sun, burning, constantly burning, sticking out its big yellow tongue and shouting, silently shouting to the starless, cloudless nothing of the big blue sheet of solid sky that's held up by the solid, still and stultifying air. I could take the pain, take it all, if only there were hope, a drop of glistening sparkling molten hope among the dazzling blue, but there is none. Goodbye. It's for the best. It really is.
See. I'm turning into a blade of grass. I need to stop gardening and do something useful. Something productive. Writing! I'll have a go at that. And while I'm away, slaving over chapter two hundred and bloody thirty-seven, here's some more of chapter 1 from my long-awaited (well, it's long) erotic sci-fi debut novel.
Inversion 1
Beginnings
Excerpt 5
Oxygen flooded the pod. Drugs poured into my system. I sucked in huge lungfuls of sweet life, yet was still unable to move. My memory told me it would take a minimum of seven minutes for the revival sequence to complete. It seemed like an age. I waited. And waited. All the while staring death in the face. There was nothing else for me to do.
My pod opened with a beautiful hiss and the movement activated the hold's sensors. Floodlights blazed. An alarm sounded, its insistent beep-beep rattling my thumping head. Still unable to move my limbs, I blinked and again focussed on the horrific faces opposite. Unlike my dream, we had entered this hold together. It seemed like only moments ago. I could still hear the noisy nervous chattering, the laughter and the backslapping. Jokes were still cracking and banter still flowed. I prayed they had all passed peacefully in their sleep.
The alarm stopped abruptly. Echoes died. The ensuing silence was deathly and eerie. I tested my legs. Okay. I'll be okay. My voice croaked. I bit my tongue and swallowed. At my spoken bidding, the clamps released. I tried to step forward, but fell to the floor with a painless clatter. I lay still for long minutes till dull aches permeated my consciousness. Moments later, pain pierced the anaesthesia and the cold hard floor pressed into my face.
I breathed deeply and tested my muscles again. Drew up my knees. Hugged my chest. A herculean effort pulled me onto my feet. I was suddenly aware of a cold sticky wetness that shrivelled my balls. An embarrassing stain darkened the groin of my snug grey stasis suit and a desperate thought took root and thrived: across space and time, Emma had stirred me with the wettest of dreams then shocked me into consciousness with the ultimate sacrifice. Steadying myself against a pod, I shed more tears, both for her and for the poor souls who surrounded me. I steeled myself, wiped the blur of grief from my eyes. My First Officer's decomposing face gazed grotesquely through me.
Steven13. We had studied together, worked and fought together. Drunk and laughed together. The name on his stained and rotting stasis suit was barely legible. He was hermetically sealed, like Snow White inside her glass-fronted casket, but, unlike the mythological girl, there was nothing pure, pale and virginal here. Death had fucked him then liquefied him into Snow Black.
I retched, turned and staggered along the line. Dead. All dead. Some were recent. Others - bare bones sloshing up to their pelvises in black viscous goo - might have been dead for years. Many would have struggled just as I struggled. It seemed none of them had made it, yet the hold's central control panel showed nothing but green lights.
This was Stasis Deck. Four thousand souls at the mercy of machinery. How many had survived? I ran between the rows, shouting out, panic pumping through my veins.
'Anybody here? Anyone?'
There! Thank God! One still alive. I kissed the glass then ran between the perfect putrid ranks. Another one here! No. Gone. So many dead. The hold overflowed with death. It submerged me; the shock and the effort drained me. Once more I slumped to the floor, dizzy and fighting for breath. Once again training overrode the panic.
'Get up! No fucking time for that.'
Pulling myself to my feet, I stumbled back between the rows and deactivated the sole survivor's pod. I waited then watched with relief as Michael3's facial muscles twitched. The pod hissed open. His chest rose and fell. Eyelids peeled apart. I spoke as calmly as I could.
'Michael, there has been a fault. I'm waking you. No panic. Wait here till I return.'
His brown eyes signalled his understanding. I checked the rows again and found one I had inexplicably missed. He was tall, bearded and gaunt. Punching buttons on his pod, I entered the revival sequence. He didn't respond. I made adjustments to the controls and tried again. His whole body twitched and his eyes snapped open. He stared straight through me. I swung open his pod.
'Hey, relax, buddy!' I read the name on his breast. 'Keith, I'm your captain. There has been a problem. I'm reviving a small party to carry out repairs. Take your time. I'll be back shortly.'
Just three survivors from the two hundred in this hold. Nineteen more holds to go. If the losses were the same throughout the crew, we were finished. We had anticipated some casualties, but a disaster of these proportions had been unforeseen. I said a silent prayer as I opened the airlock that led directly into the next hold. Hold 19.
More soon...
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