Wednesday Words – Laika
After hearing the Jonathan Coulton song Space Doggity, I’ve become obsessed with Laika. The first living creature, from Earth, to orbit Earth (as far as we know). Listening to Jonathan’s song he really captures how amazing and how incredibly tragic the whole thing was. Of course in listening to the song I’ve begun reading a lot of the information there is out there about this poor dog. Her story has inspired me to write some fiction based on her. There have been some fiction stories of ‘what really happened’ where Laika doesn’t die and goes on to several outer space adventures. I believe there’s even a video game to that effect. I wanted to try something different. I want to rewrite history by writing about what would have happened had she returned to earth safely. This is that story.
Laika
By Grant Baciocco
The landing was hard. Maybe the hardest thing about the whole trip. I learned later, listening to some of the men, that one of the descent parachutes failed to open and while two of the chutes deployed to make the landing survivable, it was still rough. The ocean is not that forgiving when you hit it at 100 miles per hour. But I landed and the first indication I received that I was back was how I instantly felt heavier. Much heavier. Much different from how I felt up there.
The next thing I noticed was the constant bobbing of the capsule. Firm indication I was in the water. The confined space and the bobbing were making me queasy and I’m not ashamed to say I got a little sick. It was sometime later that I felt a strong jerk on the capsule. Then another and, just faintly, through the thick metal walls I heard voices. Of course my tail started going a million miles an hour. People. I love people, even though they did this to me, I was glad that soon I was going to see people.
Several minutes later, the hatch opened. Yes, people! I barked excitedly and they all seemed as happy to see me as I was them. I was hoisted up out of the cabin and into the arms of the Doctor who I saw before I left. I kissed him appropriately about the face. His laughter music to my ears. All the men there were happy to see me and I got more petting in those first few minutes than I had in my life. Some men broke into song. It all seemed to be focused on me. As if I did something special. I didn’t. I just went where I was told and now I was back. This made my people happy so it made me happy.
The Doctor took me to a white room and checked me all over. He seemed content with my condition and let me rejoin the rest of the men. That night I got a steak for dinner and more petting and more songs. I should go into the capsule more often.
The next morning we arrived home. There were even more people there to cheer me and pet me. Lots of people took my photograph. They gave speeches in my honor. They shook my paw. They kept saying the word hero. I’m just a dog.
After a long day and night of this, I was soon in the car. My head out the window. I love going fast. We made a right and my heart started beating fast. We were close to home. I started barking. My tail about to wag itself off. THe car slowed. Stopped. The door opened and I leapt out.
Home.
—
100 Word Wednesdays – Argument
A 100 word story based off an item in the police blotter of my hometown of Burlingame, CA.
Argument
By Grant Baciocco
“It’s 16704 kbps.” David yelled from his room. “That’s what the website is saying.”
“Well it’s wrong!” Gloria yelled from the kitchen. “I’m getting 23408kbps here in the kitchen.”
“That’s because you’re closer to the modem.” David yelled.
Gloria clenched the glass in her hand and threw it against the wall. Grape juice and glass shards rained down on the kitchen floor. “Don’t tell me what I already know! My point is that it shouldn’t drop off that much! You’re only in the next room!”
“Are you saying I’m lying about my speed check here?” he replied.
“Yes, I do!”
—
Why am I doing this?
I’ve spent the last two weeks recording fourteen episodes of The Tales of Deputy Guppy for SaturdayMorningTheatre.com. It has been going rather well. I have most of the audio for the episodes recorded with the exception of my dialogue, which I’ll do as I edit the episodes, and one or two folks who I haven’t been able to schedule to come in yet. I’m excited that this project, which I came up with in high school albeit in comic book form, is finally taking shape in some form.
Last weekend, while recording one of the amazing voice actors who agreed to take part in this show, I was explaining the concept of Deputy Guppy, and of SaturdayMorningMedia.com. The voice actor nodded his head in agreement and then asked…
“Why are you doing this?”
He meant, what’s the point in doing all this work on this show (and on the website). I’m not getting paid for it and, in fact, I’m losing money on it as I made myself promise to pay each of the actors a small ‘consideration’ for taking part. Not a ton, but certainly enough to make it worth the drive to Burbank.
I answered him, “Just to do it.”
That’s pretty much it. I had the idea to do it and I’m doing it. Since Dr. Floyd started in 2004 it’s just kind of, what I’ve done. I guess like a hobby. I don’t really have any other hobbies. I don’t watch much TV, so this is what I do.
He nodded in agreement and we went on with the recording session. The questions though, returned to my head that night.
“Why are you doing this?”
This is when my brain went crazy. I know my friend didn’t mean it in this way but the question repeated louder and louder in my head with different inflections…Why AM I doing this?!
So, I started to look at it logically, or at least attempt to. I’m getting nothing out of this. Let me clarify that statement. Yes, I do get to flex my writing, recording, editing muscles and get to do a little voiceover as well. I also get to hang out with some incredibly talented people who lend their voices to the project and the recording sessions are always a fun time to catch up with friends I haven’t seen in awhile and then have fun laying down some tracks (as we say in the business). But other than those things I just mention, I’m getting nothing out of this.
I’m not making money (losing it, see above). I’m not using this to pitch to any production companies (and I’ve realized by this point, no companies are interested in my ideas). Nothing is going to become of this other than fourteen audio dramas that a handfull of people will listen to. Why am I putting myself through all this? For what? What am I getting out of it?
This is where my brain went even crazier.
Now, let me preface this next part by saying I’m SO INCREDIBLY appreciative of the audience I have. The audience I’ve built up through Throwing Toasters, through Dr. Floyd, through PuppetUp they mean the world to me. But the question my brain led me to is…
If I stopped doing this right now, who would it REALLY matter to?
Being honest, no one. There’s plenty of media out there for people to consume. If I just stopped making these silly little podcasts, no one would start an online petition. There wouldn’t be any outcry for more episodes of an underwater western. It wouldn’t REALLY matter in the grand scheme of things.
So….
Why do I do this?
Wednesday Words – The Job Part 5
The Job – Part 5
By Grant Baciocco
Link To Part 1
Link To Part 2
Link To Part 3
Link To Part 4
The next thing Patrick knew he was vomiting over the side of the chair. He had no even real inclination that he was doing it. He’d been in the chair, there was a flash of light, and the contents of his stomach were spilling over the clean white floor of Dr. Levitt’s laboratory.
Dr. Levitt rush over to the opposite side of the chair and put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Patrick! Patrick!”
Patrick heaved a few more times but his stomach had been vacated. He dropped back in the chair, breathing heavy, his shirt soaked with sweat that had seemingly come out of nowhere.
As he rasped for air, Dr. Levitt checked his pulse, then his pupils. All seemed fine. He hovered over Patrick until patrick waved him away.
“I’m…” Patrick finally spoke, “I’m fine. I am…okay.” Patrick breathed heavy for a few minutes, then wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
Dr. Levitt began to speak, softly at first, “I suppose I calculated the effects of sending the information to the brain in the past, but neglected to calculate the sudden onset of two year’s worth of new memories on the present brain.” He looked down at Patrick, his hand still on Patrick’s shoulder. “Like Deja Vu?”
Patrick nodded. “Yes…but no. I know that I’m here, I know that I’ve ben sitting in this chair for minutes, but it was like, all of a sudden, it was all completely new to me.”
Dr. Levitt was quite for a second and then he nodded. “Jamais vu.”
Patrick looked weakly up Dr. Levitt. “What?”
Dr. Levitt smiled, “Jamais vu. It’s sort of the opposite of Deja vu. Deja Vu is where you feel you’ve lived something before, even though you know you haven’t. Jamais vu is where your brain tells you you haven’t lived through something before even when you know you have. It would make sense. Your brain was suddenly flooded with two year’s worth of memories that, up until seconds ago, it hadn’t lived through. At least I think that’s what happened.” He looked at Patrick, “Dd, did it work?”
Patrick thought long and hard about this. Trying to sort through the 17520 hours of new memories that were rolling around in his head. “Yes. It did work. I was at home in my tiny one bedroom apartment, playing World of Warcraft when the future memories hit me. I,” he pointed at the mess on the ground, “this didn’t happen, but it was a lot. It was almost that my brain shut down it was so much information. I staggered to my bed and just lied there for days. Not sure how many. The next thing I was aware of was Mary. Mary shaking me awake. I don’t know how long I had been in that state for. She said it had been five days since we had last spoken and she’d gotten scared. We had only just started going out at that point.”
Dr. Levitt listened fascinated.
“But you talk about your Deja Vu, it didn’t happen that often because I was aware of what had happened. That I was undergoing this process. So my day to day life was changed.” Patrick sat quietly for a moment and thought. “But it was the big things. My Grandmother going into the hospital. I knew she wasn’t going to make it out again, because I’d lived through it. I was able to spend more time with her. The first time around I’d been too busy. Busy with nothing, goofing off, but I’d just assumed she’d pull through. After she passed I was racked with regret. I’d spent every summer with Grandmother when I was a kid and now she’d gone and I wasn’t there. But this time…this time, I knew she wouldn’t.”
“What did you do?”
“I made sure I was there. I was there when life left her. I was by her side. The regret was gone.”
Dr. Levitt nodded.
“That was just the start. Just the start of the changes I made.” Patrick sat quiet for a minute. Letting the knowledge of all the changes he had made in the past two years wash over him. He turned to Dr. Levitt with a smile. “Dr. Levitt, this works.” Patrick gestured wildly around the room, “This…this works! You’ve created away for people to abolish regret from their lives.”
“Not all regret, I assume.” Dr. Levitt asked, clasping his hands at his waist.
“Hmmm?” Patrick was puzzled.
“I assume that even though you were able to make changes, your Grandmother for instance, there are still other decisions you made, that you now regret.”
Patrick was silent for a second. He nodded. “Yes. Yes, there are. But it was the big ones, the big ones that I’d made in the past two years that I was able to fix. They’ve given me a whole new life. A better life. I have a job now. In fact, do you have the time?”
Dr. Levitt, looked at his watch, “12:30PM”
“I gotta go. I gotta get back to work.”
Dr. Levitt smiled. “Good. Okay, good. I, uh, I will need to schedule an interview with you. A videotaped interview that I can use to present to the board along with the footage of the experiment to hopefully get more funding towards this project.”
“Sure.” Patrick stood, carefully avoiding the mess he made. “You want me to clean that up?”
Dr. Levitt smiled, “No. I’ll get it.”
Patrick stood still, feeling like a stranger in a new body. He stretched out a hand to Dr. Levitt. “Thank you. Thank you for this.”
Dr. Levitt smiled. “This is just the beginning. Now go. I’ll be in touch.”
Patrick turned and began walking out.
Dr. Levitt watched him walk towards the door, slipping his hands into his lab coat and finding the envelope with the cashier’s check. “Patrick?”
Patrick stopped at the door and turned around. “Yeah?”
Dr. Levitt held up the envelope. “You want the $3000? Technically it’s yours.”
Patrick smiled and shook his head. “I don’t need it. I have everything I want.”
Dr. Levitt looked at the envelope and then back at Patrick, “And Mary?”
Patrick smiled the biggest smiled Dr. Levitt had seen on a man’s face before, “I have her too.”
Dr. Levitt nodded.
Patrick turned and walked out the door.
THE END