wildflower magazine | august 2011

1 w i l d f l o w e r \\

// w i l d f l o w e r 2

wildflower magazineAshley Noel Hennefer

Editor

Contributors

Ashley DodgeJessica Farkas Rachel Quinn

Jessica RossScarlett

Caitlin Aly Thomas

Writing. Love. Magic.Reel Talk A Network TimeoutGame TimeScarlett SpeaksFight Like a Girl

Published by Desert Underground | Independent Publishing and Media

Email: [email protected]

Copyright © 2011 by the artists published and Wildflower Magazine.All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal. Please purchase only authorized elec-tronic editions. Your support of the artists’ rights is appreciated.

BLINKit PhotographyAshley Dodge

Ingrid Rebecca GaultKelly Gesick

Nicole MelvinAnnelise Nelson

Rachel QuinnGavin SpectorTim Stobierski

Andrew WarrenThea Whitaker

// w i l d f l o w e r 2 3 w i l d f l o w e r \\

august 2011


highlight

#299

last words

making waves

confessionsof a scifi fan

816232426

table of contents


8

con art

daydream

terraform

what we need

poems fromthe underworld

3034424446


I don’t want to encumber this issue with much prefacing, and I think this compilation of art and writing speaks for itself. I like the fact that Wildflower isn’t necessarily a themed publication, because I think that themes are naturally occurring, and those unintentional common threads that form between creative work are part of what makes an art com-munity strong and flourish. But I also think it’s important for creative souls to challenge themselves and break the boundaries of their own limitations. This is the first science-fiction only issue of Wildflower, and I guar-antee it won’t be the last. A sci-fi lover myself, what makes the genre so appealing to artists and hobbiests of all mediums is the vast potential. What constitutes sci-fi? The future? The past, reimagined? What about the present in which we exist? While there may be textbook definitions of what science fiction entails, there is no hard and fast answer.

A long time reader of post-apocalyptic literature, I know one of the reasons I enjoy it so much is be-cause of its foundation in truth. Facts, tangible evidence, set the stage for uninhibited imagination. Often, what I love most about sci-fi is the presence of science within the fiction - an indica-tor of what we, as humans, can aspire to be. This issue features a variety of fantasy scenarios. Cover artist Thea Whitaker’s lightscapes illuminate the di-versity of the human body, the integral core of cyberpoetry. Nicole Melvin establishes a world gone awry, and how we react when everything we know and love is threatened. Poetry by Tim Stobierski and photography by Kelly Gesick evoke dreams of unseen lands. And Wildflower science and tech writer Rachel Quinn questions the dark side of the future - are we all in this together? Thank you to all of the imagi-native, talented artists who jumped at

editor notes*


the opportunity to be featured in this issue. I hope to have other themed Wildflowers in the near future. I recently rewatched the show Firefly, and of all the funny, poignant lines (there are a lot), the one that stuck with me is this:

no power in the verse can

stop me.

Unhinge your mind. Explore the possibilities of the time in which we live, and the options to venture through genre and style. Weapon in hand, whether it be pen, camera, paintbrush, book - there is no power in the universe more unique and en-thralling as your own imagination.

Happy Reading,Ashley Hennefer, Editor


HIGHLIGHTFeatured artist | Thea Whitaker


creative control

I started photography in middle school so that'd be.... 7 or 8 years now. I was really horrible at drawing and didn't have much control in my life, so I decided that I'd get into photography cause of how much I could control and change.

putz job

I find my inspiration in a lot of places, books, movies, friends, conversations, phrases from strangers, dreams, day dreams, other artists work, but mostly from putzing around.

fangirl

I'm a Nikon girl all the way. I shoot with a D300s and love thefuck out of it. I think Nikon has better colors and are more userfriendly. Like the Cannon D5 can be turned on half way, so not all ofthe functions work. Who does that?

prep school

I write sometimes and pretend that I can paint. I also makejewelry, crochet, sew, make books, make greeting cards and make pretty mail for my friends. I'm gonna be an awesome house wife one daybecause I like crafting so much. I think its just because I find kitschy shit amus-ing.

profiled

I love photographing people. We're capable of saying so muchwithout words, and I just find that beautiful. And we're all sodifferent. I love people in general. Sometimes I'll sit in the parkwith my dog and forget I brought a book because I'm making up storiesabout the couple sitting at the bench next to me. My mom calls itpeople watching. Who cares about birds.

underground [I don’t have a website yet]; I'm so un-prepared to be a fully functioning artist. I'm still surprised I can call myself that sometimes. I plan to have awebsite and an Etsy within the next few months. And Wildflower will prob-ably be the first to know! •


1 “On this day, the very first of our journey home, it is my pleasure to announce the promotion of Jian. It is now your charge to get the ship home safely and in turn it is our ship’s charge to get our people home safely. Never forget what this means. Congratula-tions on your promotion, Captain Jian.” “Thank you, sir! I will not fail!” “Just remember, are you awake?” “Sir?” “Jian? Jian, are you awake?” Jian’s internal comm modulated on.She was awake now. Jian sat up in her bed and rubbed her face with the palm of her hand. While she didn’t be-grudge her subordinates for contact-

ing her, she always wished for a full night’s sleep. “I’m here. What’s going on?” “The navy engineers are here…” “I gotcha, Mal, I’ll be right there.” Jian stepped past her sleep-ing roommates, into the bathroom. She quickly ran a shower. The mirror reflected her life as a civilian starship engineer; all over her body, her skin is marked with small scars. Her calloused hands scratch her face as she doused it with water. She finished up, tied her hair back and put on her uniform.The lights were dimmed in the hallway to simulate night. She hadn’t seen a real sunrise in years. The sun never

#299 by Gavin Spector


rises on colony ship #299. She hustled down the crowded hallway, dodging and weaving the hang-outers, the ci-vilians on board the ship with no place to go and nothing to do. “Hey, looking good, sweetie!” the hang-outers cat-called. “Get a job!” she replied with-out breaking stride. The hang-outer laughed to himself, knowing that she knew civilians don’t have any jobs to get. After some time she arrived in the lower stern en-gine. This multi-story section of the ship was unfinished at the time of launch sev-eral years ago and was still under con-struction. This area opened out to space but held atmosphere thanks to a force field slightly outside the end of the work area. Workers hung from the rafters and off the walkways endlessly building, welding, extending, and fixing endless amounts of starship. Specialist Mahlah “Mal” Smith was here, and in an argument with a group of naval engineers. As soon as Jian entered, Mal ran over to shield her short, stocky body behind the taller, well built Jian, like a child using her parent. “Cap! Cap! They are trying to shut us down!” Mal said while pointing to the naval engineers. “Thanks, Mal.”

Jian approached the naval engineers. “Captain Jian? We have a problem here. We heard you wanted bring down engines four through ten for maintenance…” “Yes, while we do the overhaul we can tap into the propulsion systems to rig up the jets on engine 11 and finally finish it and get them all online at the same time.” “We need you and your team to clear out. We’re shutting this area

down.” “Oh…uh, How long will we be furloughed for this time?” “A thousand hours. We need to press the engines.” “Another thousand?! They will be a pile of junk by then!” “I know but it is still

within the upper limit of spec…” “Your spec.” “We need to push this now. You have to trust us.”

2 The walkways were empty now. The sounds of work were gone. Jian sat at the end of the walkway, staring out into space. The force field generators hummed quietly and end-lessly. Mal approached her and sat down. She swung her legs and waited. Jian looked to Mal and smiled softly. “Hey Cap.” “Hey Mal…We’re traveling faster than anyone in the history of

“We need to push this now. You have to trust us.”

by Gavin Spector


humanity…” “Yeah, Cap.” “…and I’ve been staring at these same stars for what seems like damn near all my life.” “Yeah, Cap.” “…and they never seem to move.” “Yeah, Cap.” Jian sighs. She flicked a rivet out in front of her. It arced through the air until it clipped through the force field. The rivet stopped spinning and sailed out into the vastness of space. “…round up the crew, Mal. Let’s go get drunk.” “Yeah, Cap!”

3 The Barrelhouse was one of the many nightclubs used to while away the time on board the ship. It’s location near the barracks and personal quarters of the crew, far away the civilians, made the Bar-relhouse popular with off-hours ship personal. The lights mixed colors and pulsed to the heavy beat of the music. The dance floor was full of patrons, as were the tables and booths sur-rounding it. The chatter of hundreds of conversations could be heard floating under the music. In a corner, Jian and her crew played cards in their own personal carouse.

Jian set down her shot of vodka and slammed a card onto the table. “15! Game’s mine!” Her head bobbed rhythmically to the music’s bass as she yelled over it. Everyone else at the table groaned and tossed their cards into the pile in the middle of the table. “Give us a chance, Cap! In 15 years I think I’ve beat you 15 times. Once a year,” laughed Mal.

“Yeah but only five years on this tub! Set it up again! I’m feeling lucky!” Another round of shots was deliv-ered to the table. The crew cheered and pounded them back. “Hey Cap. So,

what the hell is going on here? With the ship I mean. This ship is falling apart. We’re over crowded; the window shades are stuck down, half the stasis tubes don’t work and now they are making us sit on our hands for over a month and a half? We got work to do! What’s really going on down there? What is this bullshit?” Across the room Jian spotted one of the naval engineers who had told her it was all over earlier. He was at a table with his crew toasting drinks and repeatedly dropping his glass.“I don’t know, Mal. But I’m about to find out!”

“Hey Cap. So, what the hell is going on here? With the ship I mean. This ship is falling apart.”


“Yeah! You get ‘em, Cap!” Feeling the liquid courage, she headed on over to speak her piece. “Hey. Hey! What the fuck man? Why did we get furloughed?” She was trying very hard to keep her footing. Jim, the naval engi-neer, was drunker than she was. “Why helllllllllllo! Well, ‘cuz we don’t need you there anymore! We won’t need your team anywhere! Do yourself a favor and kick back in your quarters… far away from that engine room… and relax. We got this shit! Right boys?” “Yeah, Jim!” His friends cheered, laughed, and accidently knocked over bottles. “You think you military assholes can just run the deck on us? You may command this ship but it is our ship! I built it!” “Settle down! You will be glad we got you out of there and you ain’t gonna be stuck there, bitch!” Jian’s crew watched the encounter. While they couldn’t make out every word, some words need not be heard to be understood. Her crew rose to its feet. They circled behind Jian and began to shout. “You don’t speak to the Cap-tain that way!” Before any one moved anoth-er inch, Jian threw her hand up behind her, palm open. Her crew stopped in their tracks. “This. Is. My. Ship.” She growled to Jim. Knowing a chair like only the person who ordered it would know,

she quickly pulled the lever on the chair back, releasing it. It flopped back and Jim fell off balance just enough to allow Jian to kick out the chair leg, causing Jim to slam into the floor. Jian and her crew stumbled victoriously back to their table as the stunned Jim was helped away by his friends. Jian was puzzled. What was “stuck there” supposed to mean? The crew continued their party as Jian sat silent, staring into her drink, thinking. Suddenly, she snapped out of it and pounded her drink. She winced at the sharpness of it. “Hey, guys, who wants to have some fun?”

4 Jian, Mal, and the rest of her crew were huddled in a corridor, whis-pering and giggling as they attempt to open a door. “Shhh!” “C’mon! Hurry! Hurry!” The electronic keybreaker tripped all the tumbler connections and the door slid open to the naval engineers office. “Yeah! We’re in, let’s go!” Mal lead the crew in setting up their juvenile pranks and mischief, like gluing shut drawer locks and loos-ening chair bolts. Jian, however, was focused on looking through all the in-formation she could get her hands on. Among the e-mails, voice messages, work orders and document pads, she pieced together what she knew was hidden here. The starship was going to


pass through a nebula. This nebula was only recently found to give off lethal levels of radiation. Normally the ship was shielded from this; however, any unfinished section didn’t have the rad shielding installed. Anyone in those sec-tions would die a horrible death. Too big to go around and too late to evacuate them, the choice was made to let one million unshielded civilians in the lower stern section die.

5 Jian awoke in her bed. She didn’t remember how she got there but did remember the important bits. She stormed into the ship captain’s ready room. “Captain Ozlen, how can you do this?!” She tossed a few data pads and printed files onto her desk. “There are over one million people in that section! As soon as the nebula creeps through the force field everyone in that section is going to get a lethal dose of radiation. They are all going to die! You have to move them!” “Jian, please! You may be captain of the civilian engineers but I am captain of the whole ship and it is falling apart at the seams! You want to know how bad it is? We have twice as many people as we should and half the resources! Ten percent of the damn ship we can’t even use! Some people don’t even have quarters! They sleep in the damn hallways! Homeless! On a goddamn spaceship! The police force can barely keep up with the spiraling

violence. So where do I put another mil-lion damn people! My charge is to get us all home but if we all starve to death or strangle each other than none of us will make it!” “I had no idea it getting that bad.” “No one does.” “…but we can’t just let them die.” “Jian, I care deeply about every life on this ship but we aren’t even half way home yet.”

6 “So what can we do, Cap?” “Something. We can’t just let them all die.” “Why don’t we take it to the people?” “That will cause a panic. A million person stampede in those tiny hall-ways…” “What about #298? They might still be in contact range. They could send a jump jet and take them off.” Under the guise of a mainte-nance crew, Jian and Mal snuck into the forward gun battery during a shift change and marked it: “Closed for Repairs.” “Ok Cap, what do we do?” “Alright, I’ve pointed the gun directly fore. I think that should get close enough to #298 to notice us.” “Are you sure?” “Not really, Mal. I’m an engi-neer, not a deep space high-powered naval gun operator. Uhm, well, load the relay probe now.” “Yes sir!” said Mal, enthusiasti-


cally doing her best impression of a naval crewman. She set the probe and charge into the barrel, closing the breech behind it.“Okey dokey!” Jian stared at the gun in deep thought as Mal expectedly waited for her order to fire. “Hey, Mal. Wait outside ok? I’m going to set a delay to fire.” “Awh, ok.” Outside in the hallway Jian joined Mal. “Ok, in 30 seconds it should…” Jian is interrupted by a strange noise that came from within the gun room. “Get down!” she yelled. An explosion tore the door off and slammed into Mal and Jian, knocking them both to the far wall. They fell to the floor. Pinned under-neath the door Jian felt an increasing heat and the sounds of wreckage bouncing and dancing off the walls. A large sucking force began to draw everything towards the room, then abruptly stopped. Alarms began to ring out through the hallway. “Mal! Mal!” screamed Jian as she began to remove the wreckage that was still on top of her. Mal groaned nearby.Emergency crews and security teams had shown up within a minute. Jian heard the crews moving wreckage.“Take this one to the infirmary!” “Mal! Her name is Mal! Take care of her!” screamed Jian, still unable to clearly see what was going on.

What felt like sev-eral minutes passed as

Jian was dug out. Security loomed over her. She could see

through the interior wall and into the gun room. The entire barrel assembly and most of the roof was now miss-ing. Jian could see out into space. Another hole had been created in the ship. Emergency force fields kicked in and saved them both from getting sucked out into space. “Ma’am, once we get you checked out you are going to have to come with us.”

7 Jian has been in the brig for days now. The border of the nebula loomed close. Mal, arm wrapped and slightly limping, entered the room. “Hey, Cap.” “Hey, Mal. Sorry about all this.” Mal shrugged at her arm. “That’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thanks for taking all the heat for this. In a day we are going to enter the nebula. No one has been moved yet.” “It is going to be close….” The civilian engineers’ Major Mike Okar, Jian’s boss, entered the room. Jian snapped to attention and saluted. Mal tried to salute with her injured arm. She gave up and used the

wrong arm instead. “At ease. Jian, just

what the hell did you


think you were doing? You may lose your commission for this! Engineers can’t go around blowing up parts of their ship and nearly getting them-selves killed! The navy is calling for your…” Jian’s comm sprang to life, interrupting the Major. “Jian? It is done.” “Thanks. I’ll get right back to you…” “Oh god, what now Jian? Don’t tell me you told your crew to hook up that engine anyways…” “Not exactly. They didn’t hook up the jets. We routed the output to the field generators. The field will be strong enough to keep everyone alive now. It will burn out the generators eventually but it will last long enough.” The Major sighed. “Well, ho-ly shit. I guess those people down there have a new per-sonal savior. I’ll do what I can to make sure they don’t boot you out for this.” “Oh thank god. Can I go now?” “Hardly. You still blew up the entire forward battery. I’ll see you in another week, Jian.” He walked out. “Well, that’s not bad,” chimed Mal. “Yeah… hey, open that shutter, will ya?” Mal pried open one of the shutters and wedged in a screwdriver to keep it open. She leaned back against the bars of the brig as Jian leaned forward on the crossbar. They gazed out the window. “The stars move so fast here.” •


I’ve never been a fan of sci-fi. Something about it doesn’t interest me—maybe it’s the vast amount of names and events that have occurred or will occur to make the world seem real that gets me spinning out of con-trol and lost. So when I found myself falling in love with Doctor Who, it changed the game for me. Now, I’m an avid watcher and well, am devastated that I don’t have the BBC, and have to find friends that do in order to watch it. I freaked out a little bit when I found out one of the wifi networks here was named TARDIS (the name of the Doctor’s time machine). I saw a cat named Amelia Pond and died laughing. (Yep, you guessed it—she’s a companion on the show.) And when I see flickering lights, I imagine that the Weeping An-gels (aliens who can only move when you aren’t looking at them) are not far

behind me. That’s when I knew I was hooked. And never looking back. For those of you that don’t know what Doctor Who is, it’s a sci-fi show on the BBC. It’s been off and on since 1963, and “regenerated” in the early 2000s. The main character is an alien who travels through time and goes on different adventures, and usually ends up having to save the world. He usually travels with a companion (yep—a female companion) and encounters aliens that play on our biggest fears. I love how this show takes me away, but not to the point where I have to come back to reality. It’s the perfect weaving and fabulous writing that makes the show and its charac-ters believable and connectable. It is these two factors that help me under-stand sci-fi at its best. I finally under-stand what so many fans of this genre have been telling me about. I just had to find the right balance.

Confessions of a

Sci-Fi Fan B Y A S H L E Y D O D G E


I have to be quick about this. There's no time for poetry. By the time you read this, I'll be dead. Or at least as close to dead as everyone else is. For posterities sake, I want it to be known that I saw it coming. All the horror movies, all the Stephen King novels, all the violent video games... They were all just preparations for this. Of course, I wasn't ready. Not really. No one was. Not my friends, my family. Nobody. As far as I know, I'm the last one left. But if I'm not, and you are, please, know that I tried to do every-thing I could. I just...wasn't fast enough, I guess. Not smart enough, not pre-pared enough. Nothing. But, no use crying over spilt milk. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, as they say. But that's not true either. Everything I knew was wrong. There

was no comet, no infected monkeys, no scientists, no virus, nothing. It just hap-pened. All at once and with frighten-ing speed. Suddenly, the dead just weren't dead anymore—

. . . Sorry, where was I? I think my crying woke him up. Or maybe it's the fever or nightmares or all of the screaming and moaning outside the door. But I'm not worried about them right now anyway. I need to tell you what hap-pened. I guess this is my big shining moment to leave something worthwhile behind. Fucking irony, huh? Anyway, there was no warn-ing. I never even got a cell phone call, or saw a news flash. By the time people knew what was happening, it was just too late. Running didn't work; they were faster. Water, fire, gunshots, nothing matters against them. I'm pretty sure that when they liquify, thier blood will still flow after you.

Last Words

painting and story by Nicole Melvin


It's hopeless. I think I might just be writing this to make myself feel better. I wish I felt blessed to be the survivor for now. But just thinking about everyone else being dead or near dead or not dead just taints the joy I guess. I don't have much time any-more. I think the whole thing happens really quick. I want you to know that War-ren and I made it as far as we could. Our Walmart gun hunt failed, Costco was a bust and eventually, we just ended up right back here, in our own fortified bathroom, waiting to die. I'm afraid to even drink the water in here. I don't know if that's how it spreads.Not that it matters anymore. I want you to know that he begged me to run. Although, I don't think he realizes that there's just no where to run. And I'd rather die here anyway. He was bitten about three hours ago, when we stopped hearing

the noises outside. We figured that if we could open the door and walk through the house, that we'd be safer, and we could make a run for it. But they're smarter than we thought. No sooner had the door cracked open than his fingers were gone. I didn't know what to do, so I just slammed the door shut again. I think he stopped breathing while I was typing that. But I don't want to check. It's not murder or anything. I've seen these things eyes. They don't know what they're doing. They're not hungry, like I always imagined. They just hate you. They don't feed. They just destroy. I have to wrap it up now, I'm sure he's dead.They wake up so soon. God, there's no where to go. Please, if someone finds my laptop, finds this, I want you to know that i—

Last Words

painting and story by Nicole Melvin


makingwavesby Ingrid Rebecca Gault


“See those, Lucy? Those are relay sta-tions. They may be cell phone towers, or maybe radio stations.” No, Dad, I can’t see, because I’m driving. I was only just getting used to the fact that I was behind the wheel of a one-and-a-half ton death machine on wheels. Eyes on the road. Eyes on the road. Take one look away, and you’ll be wearing some kid on your bumper. Eyes on the road. Still, all that didn’t stop me from thinking about the radio stations. Usually, when I try to tell people what I think, they don’t understand. Aren’t we speaking the same language? No one in the second grade seemed to know or care what supernovae were, explaining nuclear fusion in the fifth grade got me funny looks, and I didn’t make any friends in eighth grade talking about Hawking radiation. I saw faces in wallpaper patterns, heard high pitched noises no one else could, and asked too many questions. I used to wonder why I couldn’t communicate with the rest of the world, before I decided that they were all fixed on a different wavelength than I was, and I shouldn’t waste time trying to com-municate with them. Now that I was entering my junior year of high school, I’d found a small circle of friends who thought on my wavelength, and talked to barely anyone else. “Dad? Can you carry informa-tion on other waves than radio?” Dad snorted, “Why would you do that?” Typical engineer. “I dunno. Just

asking if it was possible.” “I guess it’s possible. What kind of waves?” “Obviously not infrared. That’s just heat. Too weak and anything can block it. We already use microwaves. How about ultraviolet?” Dad shook his head. “Too much power. Ultraviolet is a very high energy wave. You’d need an entire nuclear fusion reactor to generate that sort of wave.” “Oh.” “Even if we did have a source of power, you know that ultraviolet waves cause DNA damage. It would be impractical.” We drove further. Finally Dad asked, “Why do you ask?” “I was thinking about SETI. Don’t they monitor radio and micro-wave frequencies to find alien broad-casts?” “Yeah, so?” “Well, what if they were looking in the wrong place? Couldn’t an alien society have broadcasted in ultraviolet?” “Why would they? Radio is just as good and takes less energy.” “Oh.” I drove more, but I was still thinking. “Dad? What if aliens started on ultraviolet, but switched to radio when they realized radio was more efficient? I mean, we shouldn’t expect them to think like we do, right?” Dad said derisively, “Sure. Aliens would discover the electromag-

makingwaves


netic spectrum and invent broadcast-ing technology without knowing that radio waves are more efficient than ultraviolet. Besides that still leaves the question of where all that power would come from.” I decided to drop the question. The sun was glaring into my eyes and ruining my concentration. I kept a hand on the steering wheel while I flipped the sun visor down. “Guess you’re right,” I said without conviction. Some-thing powerful enough to emit ultravio-let radiation over space would be a challenge to any engineer, human or alien. Still, though, the thoughts drifted though my head as the skin of my hands tingled in the Texas heat. Even if they stopped broadcasting a certain way, though, because light has a fixed speed, the waves would still be there, right? My hand began to burn. Damn this sun! It hasn’t been under 100 in like a month! Wait a minute… I resisted the urge to peel my eyes from the road and glance up at the sun accusingly. Girl, you’re crazy. That’s completely batshit insane! I sighed. There was nothing technically wrong with the idea. This time I did look up at the sky, with all those innumerable priceless stars hidden by a veil of glowing nitrogen. I guess we’ll see, then.

~ ~ ~ “Dr. Garrison, are you leaving for the night?” I smiled to myself. Interns were always so concerned. “No, Andrew, I

just need to look over today’s data again. You go on, I’ll lock up for you.” “Yes, Doctor.” He walked out shaking his head. I could see him hop-ing to never become Director of the US Planetary Society. He, after all, had a life. Typical intern. I turned back to the com-puter and pulled up the files for star NGO 45763. It was a nice enough little star, very powerful, serenely shining a clear blue at about 30 light-years from Earth. It looked completely normal in the visible spectrum. But that wasn’t what I was interested in. I held my breath and clicked on the file. This had been a little pet project of mine throughout my years at the Society. I kept my hopes to my-self, but it looked like tonight I would be rewarded. This called for complete solitude. The computer showed that little NGO 45763 emitted complete-ly random radiation on the radio, microwave, infrared, and visible wavelengths.


On the ultraviolet and gamma wave-lengths, however, the first 200 prime numbers continually repeated themselves. I leaned back in my chair and chuckled. Dad was right, in his way. You would need an entire fusion reactor to broadcast in space. I think we shall respond. Oh, no need to get the government involved in this just yet. The last thing we need to show a superior intelligence is our military, and that’s who’ll be in charge. I wonder what we’ll send them. Maybe a repeat of their message. No, that won’t do, we have to show a bit of initiative. Perhaps square numbers. I like square numbers. It would make a neat little counterpoint. And it would only take forty years to reach them. Hell, what with recent develop-ments in medical science, I might just live to hear the reply. One high school named after me, is that so much to ask?


My housemate sent me a text message asking me if I would like a cup of tea and while I was downstairs I remembered a booking confirma-tion I had to print out. I logged into my email, touched the screen on my phone a few times and it wirelessly connected to a printer in my study. By the time I had my cup of tea the confir-mation was printed and sitting upstairs waiting for me. I also no longer use a mouse for my com-puter, I have a track pad that mimics the gestures I use on my other devices. If I choose to I can have a video conference with multiple people and I can order food from our su-permarket and have it deliv-ered without leaving the house. I can scan my own books into a database I have that catalogues them and I can compress my record collection into something the size of a sardine tin. And people are still waiting for the future? I would like to think that I’m forward thinking and would embrace any changes in how I live my life. However, we all look forward too

much to the future that we forget we may just be in the future. The grass will always be greener but we already have high speed electric cars, plug in hybrids, hydrogen cars, touch screen everything, remote controlled every-thing as well as a very good, fast evolving wireless network. We still drive using internal combustion engines and listen to the wireless, and talk using copper wires. We’re at an amazing time in our

develop-ment that it’s almost a second industrial revolution. Advances are tumbling over each other so fast that we should start being more linear about our technology rather than

throw each new development to the wayside and eagerly wait at the door of Google or Apple for the next big consumer thing. There are two things to re-member when it comes to technology; our needs and our wants. We need a way to travel that doesn’t speed up the warming of our planet, we want a way to get from A to B in less time

People are still waiting for the future? I would like to think that I’m forward thinking and

would embrace any changes in how I live my life. However,

we all look forward too much to the future that we forget

we may just be in the future.


than it takes now. The Volkswagen Group developed an engine that produced 1000BHP and a luxury car to surround it. It was an engineering experiment that cost more per car than they were selling the car for. To essentially prove that it could be done, the VW group made a loss. Its statistics are stag-gering for a vehicle that you could happily sit in traffic in, compared to other hyper cars it is an oasis of calm considering the 8.0 ltr W16 engine sat inches away from the driver. However, it will only do 9.6 mpg and a set of tyres on the car cost €25,000 and can only be changed in France - so no Kwik Fit for you. On the flip side, still an achieve-ment, and still a leap forward would be the electric and the hydrogen hybrids. They are out there and they are being used every day. Compared to the Veyron you’re not looking at a 0-60 time or a quarter mile but more about savings. The early hybrids, though on the front of it were environmentally friendly, took more of an opposite turn. When their engines had to be used they had a poor performance, the batteries themselves were hazardous and the way they were made didn’t really follow the

ethos of the finished car. Full electric cars (the Nissan Leaf for example) are fantastic for dodging the congestion charge but what if my father wanted to drive home from London at the weekend? It only has a range of 70 miles and that’s only if he drives at 55 mph. Now, in the UK driving too slow on the motorway is more of a hazard than driving too fast. So at 70 mph (motorway speed limit nation-ally) how much of a range would he

have? Considering that most of the time he’d have the radio on, the headlights on and the windscreen wipers going. And he lives in South Lon-don so there would be stop-start traffic before even get-ting to the M1. How many times would he have to recharge? A quick look shows that even when he does get onto the motor-

way there are no charging stations at motorway services. In his 2003 1.9 DCi Renault Scenic he can get 35 mpg easily, while using all the amenities of the car, not have to fuel up once on the 212 mile journey from London to York and all while doing “outside lane” speeds. My father can do London to York in 3.5 hours, and on half a tank of diesel which, at the moment, costs £75 for a full tank. However if he went to the

I would buy a hybrid or full electric/hydrogen

car if they could match the performance of

a diesel. People want the performance but we need the savings. And no one has done

that yet.


train station and got on a train with a thought to go from London to York, on the spot tickets start at £150 and then he doesn’t even have heated seats and he has to listen to the radio with head-phones on. Funny story: Once the train out from Kings Cross was delayed because the horn on the train had frozen. I would buy a hybrid or full electric/hy-drogen car if they could match the performance of a diesel. People want the performance but we need the savings. And no one has done that yet. Oh, the Tesla was brilliant as far as straight line speed was concerned but still you’re looking at a pallet of batter-ies there and a charging point that doesn’t exist. Taking London as an example here; no one cares about driving across London, the majority of people who do are those that have come from outside London (like my father). He will only drive to work when he absolutely has to, otherwise the car stays at home and he uses the under-ground and trains to get to Gatwick. I never drove through York City when I lived there, the buses were fantastic and the same for London, the under-ground goes everywhere. People care more about doing the journeys they

can’t do affordably. Flying from one end of the UK to the other is almost as stupid as buying a train ticket on the day for a 6 hour journey on a metal

tube full of people you don’t like. We need the savings and the good conscience that we’re improving our environ-ment, we want the performance and the longevity of the op-tions we have at the moment. The person that will make their billions will be the per-son that can create a vehicle that matches everyone’s wants and needs.

Technology needs to be for the majority. Not just the “western world” and not just for the person who does have £500 to spend on the next shiny thing.

We need the savings and the

good conscience that we’re

improving our environment, we

want the performance and

the longevity of the options we have at

the moment.


con artists


con artists two popular conventions give enthusiasticfans a chance to dress up and immerse

themselves in fantasy roles

photographs by BLINKit Photographyand Annelise Nelson


anime, manga, and music | am2con

photographs by BLINKit Photography


world science fiction convention

photographs by Annelise Nelson


My tongue is covered over in dead taste budsfrom having too long kissed the stove-top coil.Don’t ask if it hurt, because the obvious answer is no.

The obvious answer is no, yet I remember as a childstill being able to perceive the heatwhen I put my hand down on the coil before it had cooled after my mother’s making lunch.

I remember the smell of my own skin burning,the pop-and-sizzle of human flesh.I remember the instant firing of neurons,the throbbing red coil left branded in my palm.I remember the relief of my mother rubbing the burn with ice.

Of the whole moment, I best remember the ice.

But that memory is so distantthat I can’t tell if it ever really happened,or if it was just a dream.

I pick at the dead taste buds, scrape my tongue with my teeth,draw blood. Someone was here before.

Someone was here before, but who?

poems from the underworldb y T i m o t h y S t o b i e r s k i

Analgesia


She puts worms in her mascaramealwormsred and earthyground to a fine dust

The outer scalesof the carapace of these wormsshe learnedwhen ground correctlyimparts a shinea twinklestars caught in the net of her lashes

A single glance from her stops men in their tracks

She never goes home alone

Medusa


daydream


daydreamp h o t o g r a p h s b y K e l l y G e s i c k


image by Andrew Warren

SUBMITWildflower is accepting submissions for theSeptember, October, November and December issues.

Stories and art about activism, struggle, DIY-ness, technology and current eventsare encouraged.

Visit the SUBMIT page at wildflowermagazine.com to contribute!

wildflower magazine | august 2011

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