Sunday, September 24, 2017

Escerpt from 'THE GAME' - A Steampunk Short Story

THE GAME
A Steampunk Short Story by
William DeSouza (c2017)


The smoke from the fires of stoves and chimneys wafted skyward and mixed with the salty coastal mist to cast a haze that was thick and gray as it floated through the village. Street lamps, spaced every twenty-five meters, rained golden points of light upon the ground below, while dark spaces lay between each lamp. Beyond the edge of the dark and the shadows, shaded windows muted the glare of yellow from gaslight that formed thin lines around the edge, outlining the shape of each lit window and interrupted only by the fog that filled the streets with mystery and a foreboding dread.

It was very late or very early, depending on your personal perspective and the street and open spaces were empty. Void of human and animal, the cobbled avenue was quiet. Through the darkness and in the distance, I could hear the faint clang of a bell from an ocean buoy just off shore. It was far-off but the sound reverberated off the fog and pierced the quiet.

In my darkened rented room, I pealed back the edge of a window covering and peered down through clear streaks in the thickly fouled glass of the single window that occupied the west wall. As I parted the thin worn curtains with my right hand, and watched him. I kept to the shadows and against the stark bare wall, staying hidden to keep my observation secret. I watched as he raised the collar of his greatcoat to ward off the chill of the dark, moonless night. I felt the same chill from my hidden vantage point, but could not give up the chase - not yet anyway.

Who was chasing whom is a matter for debate since our roles were switched on several occasions. What mattered, above all else, was that I prevailed and eliminated the man who stole my life so many years ago.

When you look in a mirror, you see the reflection of yourself; but you know that reflection is you. When you look at a clone, stare at a clone, something that was created from you, with your exact looks and thoughts; well, that was different.

You could spend a lifetime scrutinizing your clone, your doppelganger, your exact DNA copy and never see yourself. It was a strange feeling and surreal to know that something existed in the world that was you, of you, but not you.


Sunday, September 10, 2017

Have You Started YOUR Christmas Shopping?


You can check out my Amazon.com page for all your Christmas shopping needs (yes, I said it.... Christmas shopping). Only 105 days to go before its too late; don't procrastinate any longer. Click Here now and get started on your Christmas shopping needs.

And what better gift is there than the gift of reading?



Website Updated!

I just finished updating my website at http://wdesouza3.wixsite.com/williamdesouza

Check it out for additional content, short stories, excepts, and promotions and access to books and novellas'


Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Historical Inaccuracies of the World

The great fire of ’78 was started with the invention and overreliance of corduroy pants. Millions of people around the world unknowingly rubbing their thighs together, generating so much heat from all that corduroy friction. One day it all exploded in a great flame that set off a chain reaction; setting all that polyester alight in a nova like flame that threatened to engulf the planet. It was a Super Cord-a-nova.

This is when the great fashion houses of the 70’s were disbanded and forced out of business; closing their doors forever and saving humanity from weaponized corduroy


Thursday, August 17, 2017

The Fast Food Generation: Life in 5 Minutes or Less


The Fast Food Generation

Life in 5 Minutes or Less


An essay by William DeSouza ©2017




First things first - this is NOT about self help, or fast food. It's not about generation w, x, y or z; and its not about a generation gap, as this spans every generation alive today.

This is about, what I call anyways, “The Fast Food Generation.”

Its a ‘condition’, a state of mind, where impatience, exasperation and annoyance causes people to rush through life as fast as they can; where we live our lives traveling faster than the speed of light. Think of this, more as reflection, and not so much as a rebuke to our daily routine. After all, who am I to pass judgment on something I ‘m equally guilty of?

It seems that as a species, humans have an ingrain genetic tendency to rush through life in what can only be called a futile attempt at squeezing out twenty-five hours in a twenty-four-hour day. We have become a collective generation of impulsive, hurried individuals, wanting life in five minutes or less - hence, the fast food generation.

Can you remember a time when life was lived at a slower pace? Before fast food and hurrying to get here or there? Before the catch phrase Thirty minutes or free?

We're in a rush to find the time to accomplish more in each minute of every day and I'm not sure we're getting there, wherever there is, any faster.

Let’s start our search in attempting to understand this necessity for speed - but to be honest, I’m not sure we’ll ever understand the necessity for speed. But I digress slightly.

Let try however by beginning where most of us begin, the morning routine.

The sun is beginning to crest the horizon of apartment buildings in the East as the dawn of a new day begins; and Monday morning has arrived in all its glory. You’ve already hit the snooze button a half-dozen times trying to eke out more of that precious morning sleep as you tentatively open one sleep encrusted eye and peek at the time on the clock radio, “Shit!”

You dash out of bed and since you showered last night, no need to worry about it now, a quick spritz of the deodorant will do. You tear into the bathroom and run your head under the tap, at the same time you brush your teeth in four nippy strokes.

Time to hurry through breakfast, sometimes skipping that most important meal of the day. When we do eat it's pre-made, pre-fabricated and pre-cooked, with the slogan 'eat on the run' printed on the box you just removed from the freezer. Then you run off to work because you wouldn't want to miss the bus to attend that meeting, appointment, or some other first light crises at the office like changing your voice mail to say that you’re in, but too busy to take that call.

If that scenario isn’t bad enough, I've seen co-workers run at break neck speed to - not catch an elevator, but to push the button to call for the lift. The wind created as a colleague dashed past almost knocked my toque off.

I asked myself at the time, when did pushing the elevator button become an Olympic sport?

By the time I walked up and stood beside her, she was still frantically pressing the call button. I turned, smiled, and quietly wondered if pushing the button repeatedly really makes the elevator come faster? Of course, I already know the answer, it doesn’t, but still I stand in amazement at the site playing out in front of me.

Once the elevator arrived on the ground floor, the doors opened. Not quite fast enough however as my colleague banged into the door in her rush to press the floor number.

In my curiosity, I asked her, “what’s the rush?”

“I’ve go to pee!” she exclaimed as she squeezed her knees together, a panicked grin trying to creep its way across her face.

I looked up to the flashing numbers slowly counting through each floor. Slowly counting. I figured, in for a gram in for a kilo, and I pressed my luck she wouldn’t mind one more question.

“Why didn’t you go at home before you left?” I couldn’t help but blurt out a giggle, biting my tongue to avoid a louder laugh.

“Because I was in a hurry,” she yelled as the doors opened on the fifth floor and she ran out, heading toward the washroom down the hall.

Inside the office, the next deadline looms as I quickly scan my PDA, others checking their paper calendars seeking the same enlightenment to what's ahead. A crystal ball of sorts on how we can speed up the day, allowing us to return home to - wait for it - quickly get supper ready for the kids and our partners.

On Monday, we wish it was Friday. On Wednesday, we wish we had more time to finish the work from Money. And on Friday, we can’t wait for the end of the day.

We seem to all want to rush through the week, as if it wasn't fast enough already.

When the work week is over, it's time to relax and take life easy. But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves because we still have to clean the house. You didn't think the toilets were going to sparkle on their own, did you? And let’s not forget the laundry.

We don’t want to leave it all for that precious weekend time – right?

OK, it's Saturday morning, there's still time to salvage a beautiful weekend - if you rush the rest of the cleaning you couldn’t get finished on Friday. So much for relaxing.

At least the kids can relax a bit from their busy life at school. They’re on the computer chatting with the cousin in Edmonton. HRU? IC. LOL SUP? GR8. OIC. PLZ G/F, LOL.

Did you get any of that? It's at the point where even our kids’ daily speech and text is in short hand.

A new lexicon for speeding up their pace of life. Speed after all, is vital to this new form of communication. Even our children are not immune. By the way, if you want to know what the kids were saying, its – “How are you? I see. (laugh out loud). So, what's up? Great! Oh, I see. Please girlfriend! (laugh out loud).”

By the way, I still have no clue as to what it all means.

We start our lives in a rush from the second we're born. Let's face it, what new mother about to give birth hasn’t shouted, "Get this kid out of meeeee! Now!!"

Maybe that’s when this goal for a hurried life really begins, at birth. It’s akin to the chicken and the egg really; which came first? Was it the adult mother or the infant child at the moment of taking that first breath of air that begins the race?

Talk about being in a rush. Mind you, who can blame that mother for wanting to be in a rush to give birth. Trying to push something the size of a bowling ball through a vagina is enough to make the most stoic of us want to do it in a hurry. Dragging out child birth just isn't an option.

The act of giving birth by the way is really the first time we see the beginning of the parent child conflict. A parent wanting to hurry along their child who does not want rush, but takes his or her own sweet time moving through the birth canal. You'll see similar scenarios playing itself out many more times while the child is living at home. This is of course the only time our children will take their time. But I digress…

As I was saying, from birth children are born with the gene to be in a rush. As babies, they want their food right away, whether it's breast milk or strained prunes.

When it's feeding time, they let you know with a set of lungs that break the decibel level of a sonic boom. If they want their diapers changed right away, the signal for this is very similar to the immediate need for food. Come to think of it, that set of lungs seems to be much of what that little human infant uses to let us know he or she want’s something.

As our children grow, the need for speed also grows exponentially. Except of course in their teen years when you're trying to wake them for school or some other event you’re late for. This is part of the parent child conflict which I will not dwell on - that's a topic best left for another short essay. I know, I strayed off the point again, sorry.

Let’s just say that our children learn from us, the parental units, this need for instant gratification.

Fast cars, fast women and fast food, it’s all the same. Even music is getting faster. If you’re over forty, you can remember the vinyl record playing hits from the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, or Led Zeppelin.

The average song playing time for most musical groups ran four to six minutes. Today the average running time for a compact disk or MP3 song with words you can’t understand because they sing too fast is two and a half to three and a half minutes. It’s just not the same thing.

Record companies want to sell more songs to make more money and radio stations want to play more songs; also to make more money. The only way to do that is to shorten the songs; but that leaves the artist with less time to convey any message he or she may have in the lyrics.

The only way to remedy that is to speed up the tempo of the songs. Sometimes I get nostalgic for the slow pace of the past, when I could really enjoy the music, and of course, understand what the lyrics mean. I even enjoyed a good guitar riff, or drum solo. You don’t see that anymore. Music takes up too much time and space on the track that doesn’t have the so-called artist going on about some lost love or something.

Music videos have changed as well. I remember watching the pop music groups in the late 70’s and early 80’s when music videos were in its infancy. And I’d sit back in the recliner and gaze at images as they flowed across the floor console television. In a thirty-minute time slot I’d see maybe ten groups and the visual rendition of their hit songs. Now, my children are bombarded with as many as fifteen or twenty videos from hit songs in the same period. What gives?

Mind you, the amount of violence you see in some of today’s music video is blasted by them on the screen so quickly the kids don’t get a chance to see what just happened. Sometimes speed can be a good thing.

Life is full of short cuts and quickies today.

Which brings me to – well, you know. You knew that we had to brooch the subject sooner of later, didn’t you?

Sex! There, I said it, and now all of you puritan individuals or young children may as well skip down several paragraphs that you may find offensive. Fair warning folks.

After all, you’re already asking yourself, “Is this guy going to get to the end and some point anytime soon? I have things to do!”

OK, it’s just us and the naughty bits for the next few paragraphs. I’ll try to keep it short – no pun intended. Sex, the act of and subject of, is a two-headed issue. Again, no pun intended. In one hand, we have the male member (I swear I'm not trying to be funny) of society and on the other we have females.

Both male and females have very different views on how they see their role on this particular subject and each one has a valid observation. In this case however, we’ll look at only the issue of speed, tempo, velocity or momentum.

There are far too many other issues between the sexes to review at this time and since we’re only looking at the pace of life we now lead, most of those topics really don’t fit (but it would make for another great short story).

I visited an adult ‘superstore’ not that long ago and to my amazement were hundreds of sex aids and toys of all varieties for both men and women. When you read the labels of these, toys, you see one main theme (it’s not what you think you dirty reader you), its how to give yourself or your partner pleasure in the shortest amount of time possible.

When did the act of sex become so rushed? Okay, let me change that question up a bit. Because I’m sure there are several women reading his right now saying, “You’re kidding? Right?”

And ladies, I’m not referring to the men who, lets face it, seem to have a habit of falling asleep, leaving you hanging (and cursing and disappointed).

I’m speaking in general terms here.

I’m in my forties…. Okay, my forties in metric, and in my early (very early) fifties in the old imperial measurement. And only just beginning to see the pleasure of taking things slow and the manufactures and purveyors of these ‘toys’ are trying to sell me ‘fast food’.

Nothing is safe from the need for instant fulfillment anymore. Never mind the stereotype joke about the man finishing his bit while his partner is still waiting for it to begin. See, I mention this for you ladies who are still upset because I realize you have a valid point.

Nothing is safe anymore; even death has become ‘fast food’. I recently read an article about a drive through funeral parlor. How do you speed up burying someone? I can see it now – you die in your sleep at a ripe old age and around the city is your family’s choice of drive through burial stores.

They rap you up in plastic and shove you into a giant paper sack and bring you up to the take-out window.

“Will there be flowers with that?” The smartly dressed clerk at the window asks. Your relatives respond with, “No thanks, but do you give air miles?”

Each car in the funeral procession will speed through the viewing area where you’re propped up against the glass like yesterdays donuts on display. The fastest funeral on record – sounds silly doesn’t it. But we’re almost at that stage in our need for more speed.

Once you begin to have drive through funeral parlors, who’s to say what comes next? Drive through circumcisions? Ouch!

You’ll notice that I’ve left out fast food, other than to use it as a metaphor, and I did that on purpose because whether it’s drive up or take away, or boil in the bag, drop in the oven or nuked in the microwave, food is too easy to pick on.

I think that we’ve all seen this area of our lives get faster since the 1950’s when the first TV diners were introduced. Manufactures are selling the latest conveniences in food preparation to anyone that has a kitchen at an alarming rate.

Turn on a television on the weekends or late night and watch a one-hour commercial on how to cook a pot roast in ten minutes. Or how to juice twenty applies, oranges, mangoes and old shoes in less than a minute.

It’s no longer farmer’s selling us our food, its corporations. They don’t grow food anymore, they manufacture it. And along with food, these same companies also manufacture televisions, stoves, cars and some even drill for oil.

I’m having some difficulty in seeing the connection between food and oil, but we do have eatable oil products…. maybe that’s it? We also have refrigerators with built in televisions and internet connections and I’m still trying to make that connection as well.

Our need to rush thought life is, in my humble opinion, getting out of hand. We’ve forgotten how to relax and enjoy life for what it is, a wonder of taste, sight, sound and imagination. We’re more stressed, get sick more often and sleep less.

Our daily routines have become chores and excitement is no longer savored, it’s do it fast and get onto the next event.

I think that we’re missing the boat on life when we forget to take out time. When we rush from one task to the next we don’t see the life we’ve missed around us and that is unfortunate, because we really can’t appreciate what life is when we don’t take our time. Pity really.

As each generation is born and ages, they take a bit of the habits and priorities of the previous ones (even if they don’t admit it), but as they transit through their life, they reach stages where they inevitably say, “that’s the old way. I can do it better, faster.”

The thing is, it shouldn’t be about doing something faster just for the sake of speed. Not when you miss out on the intricacies and beauty of life around you.

The fresh morning dew as it hangs off a delicate flower as the sun sidles slowly higher in the distant horizon; the buzz and precision of a humming bird drinking nectar out of a blossom of daylilies or lupines; bright eyed children playing together on a playground structure, their infectious laughter mixing with sounds from nature; lovers walking hand in hand along the side of a canal; or the white wispy clouds flowing across a light blue sky, dancing with the gentle breeze.

Sometimes we need to slow down and catch our breath before we lose our ability to appreciate everything around us. Sometimes the best option is not to rush our morning, but to value it; to watch the sunrise once and a while. Sometimes we should welcome Mondays and think that Friday will come soon enough; that I don’t have to rush it.

We should embrace our lives for what it is, a life that needs to have all our attention. To not be distracted and hurried.


TRUTH

Truth is only truth if based
on facts born of reality.
Truth without facts are lies
William DeSouza




Monday, July 31, 2017

Excerpt from BEYOND DEATH’S DOOR: FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE - A Science Fiction Novel by William A. DeSouza © 2017


BEYOND DEATH’S DOOR: FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE
Book Two in the Death's Door Series 

No animals, no insects, no sounds at all could be heard; and that concerned Heather. She had the squad spread out more to avoid bunching up.

In a way, the lack of noise was tranquil and inviting. It was also something to be cautious of.

As if on queue, everything changed quickly as rounds suddenly rang out around the four-man squad. Each member dived for cover as automatic weapons released burst after burst of deadly seven millimeter darts. They smashed into the ground around the squad.

Heather slammed hard against a fallen statue of some long dead local colonist. Liam and McDonald dived behind a low wall while Fortran ducked into an old bomb crater at the entrance to an empty shell of a building.

As they took cover each trooper released their safety and instinctively fired a wild burst into the air at any likely direction of fire, in a feeble attempt to keep whoever opened up on them pinned down.

“What the hell is that,” shouted Fortran as he hit the bottom of the crater head first.

The first thing he did was curl up into a ball hoping the rounds being fired at him would bypass his head and body. His head ringing from the pain of impact with the bottom of the crater.

Heather scanned the area and still found no electronic signatures. All that meant was that she was fighting against people that either found a way to mask their signature, or removed all their electronic gear. Turning off all electronic piece of equipment gave them one advantage, but also limited their effectiveness against her squad. For the moment anyway. She chose to believe the latter.

“That, trooper, is someone trying to kill you. Now keep your head under cover and find us a target,”

Warning - They Know....

This was found on a government website and leaked by an unknown group. At first I thought it was a hoax, but I've been given more proof of its authenticity and its mind blowing. I can't show anymore; and although its only a partial document, it's something that holds profound implications on humanity. Only the first two pages were unscrambled from the original before malware infected the host computer.


Monday, July 17, 2017

Embrace


I have seen the light of night and the darkness of the sun.
I have heard the scream of silence and the quiet of the crowd.
I have felt the embrace of a warm summer breeze and strangled by the bitter cold of winter.
Life is an empty void that is full of thought.
Embrace what is obvious and relish what is not.

Friday, July 7, 2017

Ninety Nine Dreams I Have Had (Based on the song ‘99 Red Balloons’ by Nina) A short story by William DeSouza (c)2017

I promised more short stories and I will deliver more in the coming weeks. This first one is titled 'Ninety Nine Dreams I Have Had' and is based on the song ‘99 Red Balloons’ by Nina.

--------------------



Summer was in full swing, and in the little section of Berlin near the Volkspark, on the tiny street Senegalstraße, the sun was high in the blue cloudless sky. Song birds competed with each other and a slight breeze caused the grass and trees to sway only slightly.

The toy shop was practically empty, only a couple of other young people with their parents, and the shop owner. Henry and his younger sister, Brigitte, stood at the shop window looking in; each one having their hands pressed against the glass peering inside at all the toys.

Toy sail boats, wooden and metal trains sitting on their tracks, kites hung from the ceiling flowing slowly by the breeze from the fan. You could not miss the dolls, stuffed animals and a stand with boxes of puzzles with bright pictures on the covers.

It was all too much for the two youngsters to hold back their excitement. Brigitte turned to her brother, “You know mom and dad will not give us more money, but I see so many things that would look wonderful in my room.” She beamed.

“I agree. We should just go and see what we can get with the money we have. It’s not much, but I’m sure we can have some fun with it.”

Their parents were visiting friends nearby, only a couple of houses down the tree lined street; and this left Henry, ten years, and his eight year old sister time to wonder. They pushed open the large red door and went inside the little toy shop, one of the only stores on the narrow street of mostly single homes. A tiny brass bell above the door rang to announce their entry.

Inside they passed shelve after shelve of handmade toys, dolls and stuffed teddy bears. There were of course the factory built toys but for Henry and Brigitte, the handmade items held their interest. With only five marks to spend, they settled on a bag of red balloons. They had just enough to also get a can of helium and intended to set all of the balloons free to float in the summer sky.

“We’ll have to wait till tomorrow morning though, Mom and Dad wanted us to get back for dinner soon.” The two young children thanked the shop owner and went on their way, only slightly disappointed they would have to wait to play their game.

In the morning the two youngsters woke early, and with their bag of balloons and little can of helium set themselves up in the back yard. One by one the two kids blew up the red balloons. Brigitte blew them up and Henry tied each one, making sure that there were no leaks.

It was finally time to set them free one by one, to float in the summer breeze. And in time they were gone; to the delight and joy of the two children.

Henry and Brigitte watched together as the ninety nine red balloons floated away; first clumping together then spreading out as they rose higher in the summer sky.

Back at the nearby air force base, in a back room deep in the underground bunkers, technicians worked on the early warning computer system. Three technicians, dressed in their work uniforms and wearing white lab jackets, attempted to diagnose a bug in the programing. At first they thought it was a virus but after several verification checks, realized it may be part of the original coding in the program itself.

An officer opened the door slowly, peaking inside from the main Command and Control room, “How long are you boys going to be with this thing? We need access as soon as possible.”

The lead tech, a flight Sargent, spoke up, “Sir, I think we can let you have access to the main sensor and radar data. I don’t think the issues are with that. I’ll release the lock out and you can power up the early warning terminal.”

It was all very normal for the men and women on duty in the early warning station at the base. They were considered a back up to the main radar network that would alert the West of any aggression by the Eastern Block. Something that was not likely to happen anytime soon.

At least that’s what Captain Sommer, the officer in charge, believed.

A senior sergeant at the computer terminal called Sommer over, “Sir! I think you need to see this.”
“What is it sergeant?”

“The system just flashed the message that there is something out there.”

“What do you mean something is out there? What is out there?”

Trying to remain calm, the sergeant adjusted the radar to a wider field. He typed in commands to the computer and it came back with the same alert. “Sir! The computer still says that there is something there; but just a few minutes ago there was nothing,” he paused and turned to face his captain directly. “Whatever it is, its moving south toward us.”

“Right, no need to panic lads!” the Captain seemed to be doing all the panic for everyone in the early warning room.

“Alert condition Red. Focus all assets on the sky. I want to know what’s out there.”

The base sprang to life as the red alert signal ran out. Ninety nine decisions needed to be made and every facet of base life stopped to focus the war machine's eager eye on what was seen as clear threat. War Ministers had to meet, scurrying around trying to decide if they needed to call the troops out in a hurry.

Captain Sommer paced back and forth waiting for confirmation when the sergeant shouted, “Sir! The President is on the line and we’re getting confirmation that there are multiple contacts heading this way.”

“This is what we’ve been waiting for; this is it boys, this is war!” Sommer straightened to attention, pulled his tunic down on both sides, and walked toward the handset with the waiting President.
After a few minutes on the line with the President, Sommer hung up and shouted, “Scramble all jet fighters!”

Back at the air base, ninety nine super high-tech jet fighters were readied for takeoff. Ninety nine jet pilots, everyone a Captain Kirk, ran toward their waiting chariots to take these ninety nine knights of the air on their mission. With orders to identify and to clarify, they scrambled into the summer sky; chasing down ninety nine red balloons as they floated by.

On the other side of the ‘wall’, ninety nine other pilots scrambled, not knowing why. It was said that they also saw something out there, but that didn’t matter, for in the end, they had to stop the threat. Each plane was armed and loaded with bombs, and each pilot released there bombs where they were told.

Life changed that day for everyone. No one was innocent and no one was spared as the carnage swept around the world. No one would know why it happened, when ninety nine red balloons floated by.
Its been years since that faithful day, when Henry and his younger sister, Brigitte, stood at the shop window. Henry stood alone now, in the dust that was a city. Not knowing what happened, he looked over the rubble, missing his sister.

In the years since they played in the park, he has had ninety nine dreams; and in each dream everyone had a red balloon. They were happy, content and alive.

The wind blew dust around him now, loose paper flew by along with ripped up clothing and anything light enough to get carried away. Dark clouds hung low in the summer sky, an orange glow off in the distant horizon and a chill in the air.

“I miss you Brigitte, and mom and dad. If I could find just a souvenir, something to prove that the world was ever here…”

As he turned to walk away, he spotted something. It was round, red, handing just above the ground and caught on a string. There it was; there was the sign, a red balloon. In all this death and despair, he found his dream.

Henry walked over, lifted the rock from the string and held the balloon in close to him. “I see this red balloon and think of you, pretty Brigitte.”

Then he let it go, watching the tiny red balloon float off in the summer sky, never to be seen again.


Thursday, July 6, 2017

The breakthrough scifi novel 'Death's Door: Where Right and Glory Lead' is available now through Walmart!

Great News For Your Summer SciFi Reading!


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