A Small Victory

I don’t have very much to say yesterday about the writing – it went very, very smoothly. I wrapped up the cosmology at around sixteen-seventeen years before the beginning of the main story I want to tell which is pretty much nothing, after having covered literally a trillion years or so of history. The chapter went well, too, I’m about three pages in so far and I’m really liking how it’s turning out.

A small triumph this morning: I’m writing this blog entry almost immediately after I woke up. I got on the Internet, checked my E-Mail and then…started to wander around and check the same things over and over again (as I unfortunately do). But I stopped early on and reminded myself that it’s not necessary – it’ll update later, there’s no need. So I closed out the Internet, took out the dogs and then sat down and started writing today’s blog entry. 

I guess – Me: 1, Procrastination: 20,000. I’ll win in the end, though. I’ll beat it and I’ll quit getting distracted so much. Anyhow, nothing left to say about that, so I suppose I’ll just write something for the remainder of the time. 

“No, no,” Bill muttered, running his finger down a long list of calculations. “These aren’t going to work.” He sat at the dining room table, cluttered with old pizza boxes, thick piles of papers with writing and calculations all over it, bits of wiring, a collection of tools and odd looking inventions, only half assembled. Someone knocked at the door, he got up and opened it.

“Oh, hi, Rachel. Come on in. Just trying to handle some calculations for the portal generator.”

“You’ll get it.” 

“I figure so, but I keep running into a dead end.” 

She stepped into the living room, at least as cluttered as the dining room. 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said. “I was wondering – what if the flux we’re expecting is too small?”

“There shouldn’t be any flux,” Bill said, his brows arched. “We added those stabilizers, remember? Those are supposed to eliminate the flux.”

“I’m just saying. Nobody’s ever done this before – we’re working literally off pages of equations, what if the stabilizers reduce the flux, but don’t entirely eliminate it?”

“I guess it’s worth a look,” he said doubtfully, putting aside the papers and walking over to a computer and typing something in and stopped.

“I think you might be on to something,” he whispered, in awe. “If the flux isn’t eliminated, then the portal opens without a problem. Which means…” he rushed out to the garage, Rachel followed. 

What appeared to be an old-fashioned silver cigar-shaped rocket laid on its side, with a enormous laser positioned on top. A hatch led into a handsome interior, with leather seats and a mahogany dashboard.

Bill opened a panel, and began making adjustments here and there, before pressing a button. A burst of light splashed against the garage door. A hole slowly opened, revealing a shimmering curtain of light. 

“We did it,” he muttered and looked over at Rachel. “We actually get to go to another world.” He grinned, eyes bright. 

“Get the rest of the gang together.” 

Alright, I’ll call that random little snippet finished – it’s kind of a revised something I’ve had knocking around for a while now – it didn’t lead anywhere. I’m inordinately fond of using mad scientists doing things that by all rights should be impossible and regularly trampling over scientific laws in their quest. Yet most of them are nice people, they’re just crazy: more like Doc Brown, I guess. 

Thanks for reading.