🔬 The Call of Science

There Goes the Neighborhood

Here’s what you get in every episode of Into the Storymaze: writing tips or a work-in-progress; something creative I’m digging; a highlight from my comics-writing credits; plus a quote that’s got me thinking — both about now and what’s next.

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Storymatic served up this quartet of cards — 2 character, 2 situation — and I used those as a map to find the 1K or so words that follow. The resulting story — The Call of Science — was written in a straight run over a few hours. Stream of consciousness until I started to see connections — then looping back to make those stronger — then around another corner to find a missing piece — then nips and tucks to clean up the beats. Pure Storymaze.

If you’d rather to listen to the audiogram version (narrated by yours truly) — give a listen.

"It's extraordinary!" Calvin Dixon exclaimed. "I certainly never expected to find such a well appointed laboratory — certainly not on AirBNB!"

"I wish I could take credit," said Sandra Cole. A wistful smile played at her lips as she gave herself a moment to glance across the collection of beakers, burners, chemicals, computers, soldering irons and circuitry that stood at the ready on the workbenches arranged across the space. "This is my husband's space. His happy place."

"Was it originally a greenhouse?" Calvin glanced up at the panes of glass across much of the ceiling, sunlight pouring through, sparkling off the technology's chrome and setting test tubes to glow. He held his hand into the direct beam of light, marveling at the sensation — or lack of it. "Curious, I'd expect that to be rather hot. Instead — nothing."

"Oh, Max, he figured a way to treat them so the space would stay cool," Sandra said. "One of his side projects."

"If altering thermodynamics qualifies as a side project, his main focus must be truly extraordinary," Calvin said. "I'm sure I'd love to meet him. Is he working remotely?"

"He passed," Sandra said. Her smile faltered. As she now looked around the lab, she allowed herself to feel the loss of the man, felt him slipping out of the surroundings just as he had finally slipped out of her life.

"My condolences. Was it… sudden?" Calvin noticed for the first time how some of the workbenches hosted what appeared to be experiments in progress.

"Not so much. But we kept on, he kept on as long as he could. 'Science calls,' he'd say. I guess we ignored it. And when he went… I was left with a lot to handle, including the bills. Which is where AirBNB comes in handy. I hope the cot is comfortable, it's all that's out here."

Calvin patted the surface of the military style cot, the wool blanket on top, the overstuffed pillow at the head. "Fine by me." His gaze returned to the robust makerspace he found himself in. "I don't know that I'll want much sleep anyway, not with all this."

"What kind of work do you do, Mr. Dixon?" 

"Nothing as advanced as your husband's," Calvin said. "I make toys, technology toys."  He opened a long metal case he'd brought in with him, and proudly showed her the slender metal pieces inside, joined by wires and gears. To Sandra, it looked like a very modern day erector set. She thought Max would have enjoyed this young man. "Science calls," Calvin said.

"Science calls," Sandra agreed. Her smile was back.

That good feeling — and the smile — vanished as Sandra came back into the main part of the course. It was sheer knocked off her face by the pounding on the front door. She knew before she opened it that she'd be facing another argument with the most unneighborly of next door neighbors, Vicki Lawson. 

"I saw that man," Vicki screeches as soon as the door opens. "I told you, you have no right to rent out any part of your house! It's against the neighborhood rules."

"The rules you wrote and posted on telephone poles up and down the street," Sandra said, wearily. "Pretty sure there's a rule against that, for sure."

"This is a residential neighborhood! You won't devalue my property!" 

Sandra's eyes rose to take in the ostentatious McMansion Vicki called manor home. "I don't have your means, Vicki…"

"You will call me Mrs. Lawson!"

"You've called the police, the church, the school board, the local news — everyone and anyone you think will listen to your tale of well-heeled, aggrieved so-called woe. If you had a case to make, they'd already have shut me down. I'm just a slightly above poor old widow…"

"There you go. You've just about admitted you're ready for hospice. Pack it in and give us decent people back our neighborhood." 

"This isn't about devaluing your overpriced, over appointed home. It's about valuing yourself high, high above all the rest of us." Sandra closed the door gently, even as Vicki railed, "I'll ruin you!"

Vicki stormed back down the walkway that led from the Cole's front door. She cursed as she almost tripped on a loose brick. "Don't you even care about upkeep?" she hissed. She  stamped down on the brick with her heel, stumbling backward as it suddenly pivoted up and popped loose. Checking her initial inclination to rage against the stonework, Vicki instead found her lips stretching out into a thin, wide and totally icy grin. She reached down to grab hold of the heavy, destructive opportunity that had just presented itself to her.

Calvin's fingers worked to assemble his creation, moving with speed and dexterity — and delight. He had hoped just for a place to crash, on his way to the Bonneville Salt Flats to run what he'd hoped would be final tests. He never expected this gift, a place to make the improvements he'd been musing on the long drive. 

He activated the servo motors, and the mechanics flexed smoothly, open, closed, their tensile strength far in excess of what it would appear such tiny grippers could achieve. The propellors slipped easily into place. He attached the "brain," the artificial intelligence guidance system that would direct his advanced drone to play games with its owner: hide-and-seek, capture the flag, fetch…

The brick shattered the glass and smashed into the side of Calvin's head. As he slumped into unconsciousness, the soldering iron in his hand hand slipped. The searing hot point of metal dissolved the circuits that constituted the drone's safety protocols. 

Out on the lawn, Vicki did a happy dance, secure in her self righteousness. She even allowed herself a girlish twirl. So her back was to the greenhouse as the drone came crashing out. Shards of glass nicked the back of her head and neck, but the real pain came as the impossibly strong grippers on the bottom of the flying machine seized her hair and arms and began to ascend.

"Fetch," the drone's speakers warbled.

Calvin winced as he opened his eyes, to find himself lying on the cot, and Sandra cleaning blood from his forehead with a cool rag.

In the far, far distance Vicki's wailing screams dropped in volume as she rose high, high above everyone else.

"What's that noise?" Calvin choked out.

"Just the call of science."

Know someone who’d enjoy time in the Storymaze? Ask them to join us…

Calling your attention to Fury Road 6 years after its release is probably not necessary. I think a lot of readers here were probably in the audience for director George Miller's latest re-visit to his post apocalyptic world of epic vehicular motion and pure rapid-flicker frame-by-frame movie-magic nitro. Having long held Road Warrior as a very high mark, that once-insane film now looks like Tonka Toys moving through a sandbox as the master once again reinvented action and almost wordless energetic, cinematic poetry. My wife and I, overprotective parents we, debated whether Fury Road was right for our then 14 year old son. He could have cared less: he had no knowledge or really interest in "Mad Max." The fact he never leaned back for 2 hours and watched the whole thing with a slack jaw tells me we made the right parenting decision on that one.

The treasure this time is a short review of Miller's latest Masterpiece, written by Austen Goslin on Polygon. ("There’s no way a movie that’s essentially just two separate, hourlong action sequences should work.") I got a lot of glee in how much Goslin achieves in just a few simple paragraphs. He establishes an entirely unexpected and appropriate POV ("Everything in the movie was alien. Movies don’t look like that; they don’t sound like that; they don’t have doof warriors with flaming guitars like that. It wasn’t a movie from Earth.") and a staggering awe and appreciation. ("It was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had in a movie theater.")

It's a short read, but a worthwhile detour. It's part of a "Best Movies of the Decade" article: search down the page for "I saw Mad Max: Fury Road in a massive movie theater in Berlin." Just be prepared to then want to watch Fury Road all over again.

I know I’m not the only one with something to say or share. Jump in…

I don't want to keep mining the same vein. As I've said from time to time, a returning visit to my own work has sometimes felt like returning to the scene of a crime. Certainly that’s been my feeling in the past. I've gotten a lot more accepting or forgiving of late, as other folks have given me some appreciated appreciation, and even validation. Point being, while I set sail with Moby Dick just a few episodes back, this was too good not to feature. Yes, it's self-serving, but it's my newsletter, so now and again? When the subject of Captain Ahab came up recently on Facebook, Captain Bill Sienkiewicz chimed in with his side of the story behind the story…

"I remember when the timeframe for completion changed at First Comics; they wanted Moby Dick to be part of their initial four book launch - I had to recalibrate and decided I needed to bring in a talented writer (not just a talented COMICS writer) and colleague who could work w me to adapt this monster of literature - so of course my first thought was my pal the great D.G. Chichester - and thankfully he said yes-

"My recollection may be rose-tinted, but working w Dan on this project ; breaking down the pages, discussing approach, the feel and keeping an eye on the 'big picture', was a dream. NO other project I've ever worked on came together as magically as Moby Dick did. Six weeks from start to finish, a truly blissful experience.

Well. For ME - Dan may STILL be cursing me and the experience . but I'm incredibly proud of what we did. This book wouldn't have been what it became without Dan."

Forget Classics Illustrated. That's just classic. ❤️ Bill.

“And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’” ― Kurt Vonnegut

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Amazing Times

Thanks for taking a break from the dark web to check out this share-out of projects I’m working on, plus things that have me jazzed. I’m D.G. Chichester. If that looks pretentious, feel free to just call me “Dan”, and have a go at the last name as Chai (like the tea) Chester (like it looks).

I earned my word-cred writing comic book titles like Daredevil, Terror Inc., Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD and Clive Barker’s Hellraiser, along with all manner of digital widgets in the world wide web of advertising. I keep my storytelling cred by trying new things —  this is one, with more on the way. I like weird tales, so if things here bend that way — now you know why!

Folks seem to like the comic book adventures I’ve written, so if you haven’t checked one out — please do. Many are now available in fab collected editions.

For the lonely moments between these newsletters…

@dgchichester — 280 characters from the Twitterverse

@dgchichester — images + context via Instagramland