Welcome September 9, 2008
Posted by gznork26 in Uncategorized.2 comments
Welcome to KlurgSheld. Most of what you’ll find here is fiction, even some of the conventional posts. For example, there are a few items here by the ‘Bank Shot Blogger’. These posts were written from the point of view of ‘John Frachetti’, a character in my series about the three-year incarceration of the Fremont-Wayfarer Corporation. You’ll find links to that series in both the Political and the Business sections. I do, however, occasionally lapse into my real voice and write a commentary which didn’t want to be submerged inside a story.
Prowl the categories listed in the “About my Short Stories” tab (above) and pick a few stories at random. Enjoy!
P. Orin Zack
P.S.: If you find something you like, please tell someone. Stories need to be read, just like cats need to be pet.
Short Story: “Health Care Reform” December 18, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Humor, Short Stories.Tags: health care reform, health insurance
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“Health Care Reform”
by P. Orin Zack
[12/17/2009]
The health insurance reform debacle of 2009 had been the last straw. Desperate to protect its unconscionable business model, the industry had used their lackeys in the media to set neighbor against neighbor, and burnt through their war chest to strip the last shreds of self-respect from the senators and representatives in their pocket, the shills who fronted the worst piece of legislation ever conceived. And it all might have worked, too, if it hadn’t been for an innocuous little clause buried in the body of that beast by an overzealous staffer.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. (more…)
Short Story: “Legal Beef” December 1, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fantasy & SF, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: murder, Mars colonization, synthetic beef, agribusiness, big pharma, natural foods, kirlian photography
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Is it the truth that counts, or results?
“Legal Beef”
by P. Orin Zack
[11/30/2009]
“I wish you wouldn’t call it that,” said Sonja, a pained expression clouding her pale face. She hadn’t gotten much sleep in the week since her brother Francis’ arrest, and it showed, especially in her eyes.
“But it is a conspiracy theory you’re proposing,” Rick Wellingstone said, gesturing over the mass of printouts she’d brought him. “I mean, consider: you’re claiming that an agribusiness research lab and the fast food industry conspired to make people more violent, just so big pharma would have a ready market for their new wonder drug.” (more…)
Short Story: “Key Insight” November 18, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fantasy & SF, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: Mars, Mars colonization, Mars Direct
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“Key Insight”
by P. Orin Zack
(11/18/2009)
“Spit it out, Stephen.”
The twin on Lou’s left made a face. The cake his father had made wasn’t anywhere as good as the ones his mother used to make, but that wasn’t any reason to not finish it. He pointed at his full mouth. “Hmmm?”
His brother Alan, who was seated across from him, quickly swallowed so he could laugh. “Not the cake, stupid. Anyone can tell something’s been eating you. Finish eating Dad’s latest science experiment, and then spill.”
Lou glared at him, but could only keep a straight face for a few seconds. “Science experiment?”
“Well, yeah. You did stray from the recipe, didn’t you?”
“You can tell?”
Stephen had finished his dessert by this point, so he tapped his glass a few times with his fork. “Yeah, Dad. Of course we can tell. But then, mom played variations on recipes all the time. It’s just that yours are, shall we say, out of key?”
“Hey,” Lou said defensively, “at least I tried. Cooking isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
The twins glanced at one another. “We know.”
“But you’re right,” Stephen added a few seconds later, “something has been on my mind. I’m just not sure how to explain it.”
“You’re not in any sort of trouble, are you?”
Stephen sat back. “Trouble? Oh… no, nothing like that. It’s more along the lines of a spiritual conversion.”
His brother smirked. “What, again?” Stephen had been sampling the world’s religions with the staccato passion of a serial monogamist ever since the two had graduated from their respective colleges, and family gatherings had turned into a sporadic series of weekend seminars.
“It’s different this time.”
Lou took a sip of dessert wine. “Different,” he said flatly.
“Well, yeah. This time it isn’t about sampling a religion. But it was a conversion, of sorts.”
Alan eyed his brother briefly. “Then you’ve finally decided on one?”
“A religion? Of course not. This is different. It’s um… I’ve become a Martian.” (more…)
Short Story: “Accommodation” November 17, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fantasy & SF, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: Mars, Mars colonization, terrorist
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“Accommodation”
by P. Orin Zack
(11/16/2009)
Mission Commander Sarah Ping glanced at the MarsLift transport capsule on the nav screen, and then resumed glaring at Insky. “You’re damn lucky the elevator was near enough to completion for us to use it this trip.”
“Why?” he asked defensively. “What’s the big deal? We could have just stuck to the mission profile. It’s not like this ship can’t land normally.”
“It’s a matter of trust,” Glencoe said quietly. As the colony’s new botanist, he was acutely aware of the importance of trust in such a hostile environment. “And none of us trust you.” (more…)
Short Story: “Eye of the Beholder” November 16, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fantasy & SF, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: Dr. Robert Zubrin, Mars, Mars colonization, Mars Direct
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This is a follow-up to the story “Grounded”.
“Eye of the Beholder”
by P. Orin Zack
(11/12/2009)
“There it is,” Peter whispered when he spotted the stylized ‘Z’ on the launcher’s handgrip. He cleared away the pile of disremembered keepsakes stacked atop the pair of tethered metallic canisters sitting beside it, each about five inches across and an inch thick, and extracted them from the condo’s basement storage unit. After setting them down in the hallway, he reached back in and carefully extracted the launcher itself, which was kind of a cross between a forked casting rod and an atlatl, one of the world’s oldest weapons. Unlike an atlatl, though, which offered leverage for throwing a stone or a dart, it was used to launch the tethered canisters, a scale model of the two-part cylindrical spacecraft that had ferried his late Aunt Angie to Mars ten years earlier.
Peter hadn’t played with the thing for years. For that matter, he wasn’t all that sure it still worked. But then, he was hardly an expert on electronics. Senior year of high school was enough of a problem without begging for trouble by taking on an extra-credit program if you didn’t have to. But then, school wasn’t why he’d gone spelunking in the bowels of the complex. That honor belonged to his older brother Daniel, who’d just signed on to join the Mars colony.
On his walk to the schoolyard, which was the closest spot large enough to try a launch, an old friend drew up alongside him and bent to get a look at the gear he was carrying. Peter had known Rod since before his aunt had boarded a real Zubrin-designed spacecraft, and the two had played with the model throughout her months-long trip across space. “Hey,” he said at last, “that’s your aunt’s ship, isn’t it? I heard she died out there.” (more…)
Short Story: “Grounded” November 16, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fantasy & SF, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: Mars, Mars colonization, Mars Direct
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“Grounded”
by P. Orin Zack
(11/11/2009)
“Would you go see who that is, Pete?”
Peter Warren looked up from the Wikipedia entry on Conestoga wagons on his tablet and glanced towards the condo door. Judging from the anguish in her voice, his mother was still pretty stressed-out from dealing with the funeral last month. It was one thing to have an empty-coffin ceremony when the deceased was never found or mutilated beyond recognition, another thing entirely when she died on another planet. “Sure thing, mom.” (more…)
Short Story: “Fair Game” September 28, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Business, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: "The Army Experience", corporate bullying, corporate media, gaming center, independent media, lobbyist, mercenary cops, political bullying, predatory business practices, protest, script kiddies, social engineering
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The military have predator missiles. Businesses have predators of a different kind, but they are just as deadly.
“Fair Game”
by P. Orin Zack
[09/16/2009]
The ranks of sign-carrying protesters arrayed outside ‘The Suasive Experience’ had grown quickly in the hour since a dozen or so grey-haired mall-walkers streamed through the just-opened glass doors. Photojournalist Margot Güernsbach had been on hand, because she wanted to provide her readers at the crowd-sourced news site she reported through with the sense of purpose the activists expressed, even when they were idly chatting with the elderly indoor exercise enthusiasts.
She smiled, and raised her hand to catch the attention of a happy-looking couple in matching blue-and-white striped jogging suits. They had walked briskly past two of the mall’s security guards, and were now warily approaching the protest. “Good morning,” she said brightly, and introduced herself. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
The woman, who was a few inches shorter than Margot, nodded, and peered uncomfortably at the gathering. One of the protesters, a burly young man whose sign read, ‘Retirees are not Fair Game’, grinned back at her. She started, then shrunk a bit and pointed tentatively at him. “What does that mean? What’s going on here?” (more…)
Short Story: “Terrifying Vindication” September 7, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Metaphysics, Short Stories.Tags: H.P. Lovecraft, mob mentality, political debate, Randolph Carter, terror suspect, terrorism
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If there’s a fine line between madness and genius, what lies at the edge of the abyss of mob rule?
“Terrifying Vindication”
by P. Orin Zack
[08/16/2009]
“Listen,” Corwin Farragut blurted, ignoring the carefully worded question, “could you bring me a book on your next visit?”
Bernard Katzmarek, still aching from the train ride to nowhere, looked up wearily from his notes and considered the jumpsuited prisoner. “A book?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Lovecraft. “’Through the Gates of the Silver Key’ was in an anthology I used to own. I’d like to read it again.”
“You’re serious.”
“Sure. Why?”
Katzmarek glanced around the Spartan glass-walled interview room, and nodded towards the two uniformed guards in the hallway. “Have you lost your mind?” he said tightly. “You have no privacy here. What do you think your chances of reversing that terror conviction will be once the corporation that owns this place tells the press that the man responsible for terrorizing the political debate they underwrote amuses himself reading horror stories?” (more…)
Short Story: “Anushka’s Lament” June 24, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Politics, Short Stories.Tags: naked journalism, scandal
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In the new model of journalism, reporters aren’t the only people digging up leads. (I’ve made a video reading of this story. Here are part 1 and part 2.)
“Anushka’s Lament”
by P. Orin Zack
[6/19/09]
Alec Warnock arrived early for his meeting with freelance reporter Grandy Holman, so he funneled the energy of the live Celtic violin duo on stage into a spirited sail through the mall’s food court in search of spicy smells. He stepped away from the counter of the new Indian kitchen after ordering the chicken vindaloo special, and pivoted to face the café area.
“That was Fitzwater and Collins,” the young man at the mike said when they’d finished, smiling appreciatively at the duo. “Let’s give the ladies another round of applause while they pack up. If you enjoyed them as much as I did, come on up and buy one of their CDs.”
Alec winced when someone jabbed him on the shoulder.
The bearded man behind him gestured towards his newly filled tray. “Hey! Wake up. Your lunch is ready.”
He mumbled an apology and returned to the counter. While he was getting utensils and condiments, he noticed the picture on the cover of the guy’s scandal magazine — Rachel Gwynn, the ‘naked journalist’ whose reputation had recently been trashed, decimating the ranks of her, until-then, dedicated following. “So tell me,” he asked evenly, “why do you think she gave in to those bullies?”
“Why the hell do you think? The bitch knew she was beaten. Serves her right for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.” He dropped the magazine on the counter. “Here. Read it for yourself. I was going to toss the rag anyway.”
Alec tucked the crumpled magazine under his arm and headed back towards the stage, where the next act was getting ready to start. He’d asked Holman to meet him here in time to hear ‘Anushka’s Lament’, the song that ‘Union Dues’ was slated to open with, but so far he hadn’t turned up. The front table was empty, so he got comfortable and dug into his vindaloo while the band sang the sad tale of a young Russian immigrant, and the choices she’d been forced into.
By the time Holman finally arrived, the band was halfway through their set, and Alec was slurping the last of his mango lassi. “So what’s this all about, anyway?” the reporter wheezed as he fell, breathlessly, into the chair opposite Alec, his back to the stage. “What was so important that I had to be here at two on the dot?”
“Which you didn’t bother to do, I might point out.”
“I was busy on another story. Sue me. So what is it?” (more…)
Short Story: “Disarmed” May 13, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Humor, Magical & Psychic, Politics, Short Stories.Tags: art, artifact, auction, control, magic, PNAC
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You might as well make stuff up about the things you find. That way, the truth won’t be quite so startling.
“Disarmed”
by P. Orin Zack
[5/11/2009]
Jerry rose, ashen, when he saw what he’d unearthed. The shovel slipped from his hand. He stared uneasily down into the hole, and gaped at the root fragment left from whatever had grown in his backyard before the grassed-in dwarf plum he was clearing a bed for. It was as if he’d fallen into one of the surreal worlds that hung, framed, on the walls of his house, because the root insisted on looking back, peering unblinkingly up at him through the inexplicable agency of a chipped glass eyeball.
“Something wrong, Jerry?” his neighbor Sam called as he approached the rail fence, his chocolate retriever, Mousse a few steps behind.
“Yeah.” He nodded, gesturing earthward.
Sam straddled the fence and joined him by the hole. “Bizarre. How do you suppose that got there?”
“I’m not sure I want to know.” He bent to grab the shovel, rose, and drove the blade into the pile of freshly dug soil. “In fact, I don’t think I really want to finish opening this bed any more.”
“Because of this?” His neighbor knelt beside the hole, wrestled the root fragment free, and aimed the trapped glass sphere up at him like it was some kind of flashlight. “Come on, Jerry. Your plum needs better irrigation more than your yard needs a buried eyeball.” He pivoted as he rose, whistled for his dog, and tossed the root to the far corner of his own yard. Mousse tore off after it. “There. Consider it taken care of.”
Mousse died about a week later. Jerry found him in late afternoon. Sam hadn’t yet returned from work, and his wife, who does contract editing through the Internet, was off on an errand somewhere with their daughter, so Jerry was the first to spot him, inert, on the back porch. The eyeball was a few feet away, staring at the late chocolate lab from under a bush. Jerry might not have noticed it, except that when he knelt to examine the dog, he absently followed Mousse’s glazed stare.
The eye somehow looked pleased with itself. (more…)
