Bombens Bagside, science fiction, antaget solo

Hvad er der OGSÅ i den ueksploderede mappe?

Midt i redigeringen af Bombens Bagside, én blandt en lang række science fiction noveller, som foreløbig Poetisk Bureaus Forlag har lagt billet ind på, blev den modtaget til udgivelse via DAST.nu, et svensk magasin for populærkultur, som har udgivet siden 1969, nu ikke længere på papir – med anerkendelsen “Vi brukar inte publicera texter på andra språk än svenska, men jag tror vi gör ett undantag här som dansk läsövning.” – hvilket naturligvis glæder mig helt vildt. 

Samtidig er det svært at være så produktiv, som jeg gerne vil. Jeg er i gang med den tredje. Og indtil videre har færdigredigeringen af de uudgivne – med tænke- og skrivetid og de forstyrrelser i hverdagen, som uværgelig forhindrer skrift, hvis man ikke tager væk – hvilket under Corona ikke har været muligt – endt med at fordre mindst 1 uge pr. stk. Hvilket alene til de uudgivne vil fordre mindst 3 måneder endnu.

Øj, jeg er altså ikke 30 længere. Og min tålmodighed river og flår i mig – for at komme steder hen, jeg ikke før har været. Frem for alle disse gentagelser af alt jeg HAR været og gjort!! Der MÅ være en ny verden derude et sted, uberørt af ord!


mine udgivne science fiction-fortællinger

STORYTYMES The Shaman of Unreality: The balancing apprentice

Do It Yourself

content:

  • 1 shaman apprentice narrowly escaped death of apprentice trial designed to kill
  • 1 lazy dove
  • 2 spiders in a hole
  • 1 world portal
  • 1 army of gigantic proportions is reported
  • 1 bicycle
  • 1 lost love
  • 1 mountain
  • 1 fox with two tails
  • 1 snake with one tongue
  • sheep up a tree
  • a lot of persuasion going unrewarded
  • 1 normal person with lots of power
  • many other persons claiming they are normal, but not in that way
  • 1 grandmother (seemingly) without baking (or any other social) skills
  • great emotions, distinct feelings
  • great fear, no angst
  • long and hard speculations about the no angst
  • 1 minister who cannot fly
  • 1 who can
  • 1 expecting brown bear
  • 1 tricycle
  • 1 happy ending for some
  • several unhappy endings for others

Skriv en science fiction-roman inden 1/5 2016

Førstepræmien er 10.000 kr. samt udgivelse af romanen.

 

Science Fiction Cirklen mener, at der skrives alt for få science fiction-romaner på dansk.

SFC inviterer derfor til en romankonkurrence, hvor førstepræmien er 10.000 kr. samt udgivelse af romanen.

Skriv en science fiction-roman.

http://sciencefiction.dk/foreningen/nyheder/romankonkurrence.html

Om det er Spaceopera, Steampunk, Cyberpunk, Alternate History, Tidsrejse, Near Future, Multiverse, (indsæt flere selv) eller noget helt nyt, er underordnet. Det vigtige er, at det tydeligvis er science fiction og at manus henvender sig til voksne læsere.

Hvis din science fiction-roman vinder konkurrencens, får du:

  • En præmie på 10.000 kr.
  • En forlagskontrakt med Science Fiction Cirklen om udgivelse af romanen.
  • 10 frieksemplarer

Dommerpanelet består af SFCs bogredaktør Carl-Eddy Skovgaard og et af ham udvalgt dommerpanel.

Reglerne for deltagelse i konkurrencen: Continue reading “Skriv en science fiction-roman inden 1/5 2016”

OF BEES AND MEN – a new beginning

the hunger of none

It was said that bees were vanishing without a trace. That in a world without bees humans would die and go hungry. That was mostly true. As it turned out only half a billion people died, the majority due to individual panic and national outbreaks of egotism. What no one spoke of was the diminished variety of plant life as a result of lack of pollination. And before science could come up with global solutions, un-pollinated plant life outside of manual and mechanical pollination efforts could feed no insects craving sugars of flowers, and no insects could feed no birds, and no birds no bigger birds and no bird droppings and bird carcasses and eggs feeding no insects and worms and carnivores on the ground, feeding no larger carnivores and other herbivores living off of the ground, and slowly, but securely every bit of land outside of manageable crop areas became devoid of animal life, which either struggled unfairly with humans for a brief while, or just gave up and died out. Nobody thought so much could predictably become lost. But no one, possibly due to all predictions being borne out of statistics, absolutely no one predicted the loss of nature’s beauty. Within ten years children were being borne, who never sang a ladybird up to negotiate for sunny weather; there were no longer any ladybirds. And these children as well as everyone else knew only of birds in cages. And foxes in stories and cougars and beavers and badgers and deer stuffed and in zoos here and there, their population diminishing as there were no new ones in open nature to replace those injured or dying of old age, or those born dead or malformed.

People learned. Fast – but too late in the general sense of the word. In a scant few years Nature lost the majority of the spectrum of colors. And where before birds and insects would break the monotony of a walk, now all forests of the world were quiet. Not a sound besides the wind. And even that could not dispel the planet’s largest and most ominous ghost that true nature had become. Soon normal people dared not enter the woods, even during the day. Artificial housing, of which there were many at first, circling crops without need of pollination, became the sanctuary’s and the remains of humanity. And slowly the forests and the plains and the mountains were forgotten and became as they were thought of: Wastelands, where only imaginary beasts and fears hunted, and to catch those sensitive enough for such speculation.

This was the new time of creation. In the minds of men and transported into the empty lands by those craving sensations and fear and the rush of a challenge, and the rest of the satiated had no marks to leave. In the wilderness new life in new forms and shapes came into the world that were partly human, part… other things; mostly of darkness.

This story intends to deal mostly with those of light, against heavy odds it will seek them out and measure their value.

Wasn’t that, what beauty was for? Comparison?

no part

we hope you never will…

You are not one of us.

Your dialect is not an issue. You have no dialect.

The lingo, the references, the “what’s this?” of people, who share similar talents and interests, none of it is familiar to you.

You do not connect. You do not belong. Mind, heart, body even, and so called spirit, an artist in the broken sense. An uncomfortable analyst you are – rarely with a home, even among peers, the threat of annihilating analysis being too great.

You are alone. The comings and goings of people, in the distance, through clouds, or binoculars, or through the “eyes of people”, that is your material. Dense and varied and manageable from afar.

Observer. Alone.

For you own safety you claim to enjoy the lives and emotions that you invent in order to let your thoughts gain present reality in all of your sensory perception and your empathy and aestetic talent.

You do not look towards the stars of the Universe, you look but towards “an understanding of society”. Something you perceive as an undefined date of future lessening of chaos. A coming to balance of mind with MIND – an equilibrium you will never achieve, not being “ofsociety”, and not even IF SO.

You know this.

Through birth or upbringing, little talents for managing talents, or lack of undefined-gift, what ever… you are no part. You are alwaystranslating. Always being translated in return. Never being seen.

Never being.

Because you are without. One cannot be without.

We pity you. We, the society, never say. As individuals we pity you.

Your fortunate “We” is visibly meaningful to you. And so is your bravadery meaningfully visible to us. You feel you benefit from us, in your miserable isolation. We thank you for not having to be you. We are most truly grateful.

We will further benefit from you.

In our massive collective.

You suspect that sometimes.

Sometimes even as you accept our pat on your head in what ever form suits you the best.

We will gladly accept all of your gifts of vision and pass them on to our people. And.

We will protect ourselves from your humanely lesser talent. And.

We will look at our collective, non-world building selves, through your soul and sensory perception and wonder at the truth of it, hmm…?

We will shower you with accolades and the fulfillment of your immediate and long-term dreams and desires, as you come to deserve.

And when you are hurt, we will look after you as one looks after a sick egg layer.

And with due honors we will pass on your accomplishmentss in the service of mankind to the annals.

We will never let you in.

Not that we could, if we would. Why destroy the better-world beauty that you see us with and the precious beauty of our following your pain?

We cannot.

We are too many to agree.

You are the one, who has to change.

We hope you never will.

BESTIK

Jeg nyder gerne et godt glas rødvin

Jeg nyder gerne et par flasker rødvin i gode venners selskab

Jovist nyder jeg gerne et godt glas rødvin og en cigar efter maden.

Ofte sidder jeg ved disken i min single malt-bar og får en lille nipper, mens jeg lytter til min seneste LP-erhvervelse.

Jeg spærrede i dén grad øjnene op, da stillingen blev slået op, og så kun internt. Det må jo betyde, at man forventer at have ressourcerne i huset. Det lyder meget interessant.

Jeg nyder ofte en halv time på øjet i middagssolen på min chaiselong. Jeg forestiller mig nydelsen, hvis den var af læder og blevet opvarmet af solen.

Min kone og jeg sætter stor pris på at kunne tage os råd til at give vore tre døtre den bedste skolegang, penge kan købe. Eliten har jo bedre chancer.

Åh, fornøjelsen ved at sætte sig i sin nye bil og dufte læderindtrækket for første gang! Desværre kom den svært til skade forleden og forsikringsselskabet stiller sig på tværs. Hvad skal man dog gøre uden en bil i dag?

Jeg har lagt stor ildhu i konstruktionen af min vinkælder i Padua. Næste projekt vil så være at fylde den med flasker.

Ja, er der noget mere yndigt end sådan en 15-årig med mulvarpeskud på brystet? Minder mig om, da jeg endnu så ud, som jeg føler mig indeni.

Hvis nogen havde tænkt på ekstra forgyldning ud over det aftalte håndtryk, ville skadernes størrelse tilhvisket mig asap gør det muligt at advisere min revisor.

I vores familie har traditionen som du ved altid været, at arven gik til børnebørnene. I 400 år har der altid været børnebørn at overdrage arven til. Jeg skal snart dø.

Stå gerne lidt dér i solen. Så er der da lidt forandring i udsigten.

Jeg ville i høj grad værdsætte at blive bespist, når jeg var sulten.

Tænk, hvis man var opgivet af mennesker, der elskede én for, hvad man var.

Jeg gad godt vide, om en nemmere vej findes.

PROSA, 1 side, 2 slutninger, “Da det stod klart,” (#sciencefiction_dk)

Hvilken slutning er mest science fiction? Hvilken er mest skræmmende?

 

Science Fiction i 2012

[klik på et af billederne og læs teksten med én af de to slutninger]

Hvilken slutning =

Mest skræmmende? [mail] Mest science fiction? [mail]

Den ene ender sådan: Fuck, hvad var dét?!  Den anden sådan: Fuck, hvad var dé…

venlig hilsen,

Kenneth Krabat, 21. marts 2012

støtte kr. 7,67
[alle kreditkort, undtagen danKort)