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Hey there, fans and other folks, I'd appreciate a little feedback here!

Does this Prologue contain enough 'recap' to remind readers of the main events detailed in the previous book, and draw them in to the new one?

Prologue: November First, 2007: the Immediate Aftermath of the Events at Mainstage Meadow.


He rolled over, still mostly asleep. He stared befuddled at the ceiling: an unfamiliar ceiling, all gigantic wooden beams and smooth plaster. He had no idea where he was, nor the slightest recollection of how he’d got there.

‘What the hell…?’ For a moment he thought he was at an SCA event, the indoor sort, where a Viscount might rate a fancy room in an old hunting lodge or some such. His head throbbed, and he felt a little dizzy, as if from overindulgence in booze and not enough sleep. That certainly sounded SCAdian!

He looked to his left and saw a woman: not even half his age, blond and lovely, with a heart-shaped face, plump lips, and a bit of the roman in her nose. He thought: ‘What have you been up to, Carlo?’ He stopped, biting his lip.

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Since this little bit makes the tale go over 10,000 words I'll just put the previous and following segments in as well as the addendum. This is per a conversation with Ysuelt at a party. More on the Multiverse, and some revelations about Gretchen, and the future.
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I. Saráyi is two.

Eleni stood over the supine form of the assailant. She had a bloody short sword in her hand, and a furious expression on her face. Dawn’s first light filtered wanly through the drapes across the windows in the west wall of the room.

“You!” she said in Serbian: “Are you Milutin’s man, or is there another faction at play?”

“Give yourself...” The man coughed, grasping his guts where they spilled from his abdomen: “Give yourself an enema with that steel, demon. You’ll get nothing from me.” He coughed again, and blood poured from his mouth. It pooled on the floor, still hot and smelling of iron.

Sarayi sat in the bed, the blankets wrapped around her knees. Her eyes were wide and she stared in horror at the man. His head tipped backwards and more blood and phlegm drooled from his open mouth. His eyes rolled back and he expired, his body shaking and twitching.

”read )
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"Are you certain, Clem?"

Clementine Irene Orenhauser raised her eyes from the small calendar book she'd been perusing: "As certain as one can be, I think. It's been six weeks..." She waved the book at Eleanor: their combined calendar, appointment book, and journal. It contained Eleanor’s firm block capitals, in Latin and Greek, and Clementine’s French and English notes and memories.

Eleanor Greenlaw frowned, her unfashionably heavy brows furrowed: "You are never that late. You are never late at all...should have noticed that. I suppose you are correct." Her voice sat just above baritone, with a rumbling quality that had thrilled Clementine from the first time she’d heard it.

Eleanor customarily dressed herself in a severe, nearly masculine fashion. That day she wore a shorter-than-usual skirt, a shirtwaist, and brogans with heavy woolen hose, as they had been considering a walk around the Peripateo.

The sun shone in through the windows of their small room in the Ambassador Hotel. Clementine thought: 'The Ambassador, a fine hotel, and so apt as it turns out. It’s a small room, with a large bed, and lovely romantic views all about. It's been such a fine holiday...' She smoothed the skirt of her dark green walking dress, her full lips drawn in between her teeth.

They sat in silence for a short time, then Eleanor rose and sat beside Clementine, embracing her: "My sweet Clemmy, how could this happen? Was it the twins?" Eleanor had the slightest trace of an English accent, suggesting a native of Britain with long residence in the western United States.

"Horace and Oliver? No, I don't think so..." She paged back through her calendar, musing: "...I think it simply has to be Mr. Crowell."

"Oh, my!" said Eleanor: "Well, Ambassador Crowell was quite an exciting performer. I can definitely see that..."

Clementine opened her shockingly blue eyes wider: "You think I'm pregnant because Nicholas gave me multiple orgasms? That's droll."

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Jay Barrie groaned. He felt someone shaking him, hard. He rolled over and Marcia’s voice came through to him:

“...Jay, wake up. Come on, Mr. Secretary, the President wants to see you.”

He shook his head, hard, and the pain in his temples brought him abruptly awake.

“Here’s your headache medicine and some coffee, sir, and the Marines fetched your evening clothes. Also there’s this...” She pointed out a brand new lapscroll, with a red tab on the upper side. He touched the tab and it read his bio-assay. It lit up, but showed only the expected “EYES ONLY” front page of a single-line machine.

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In news of a non-SCA nature, I edited and slightly re-wrote Chapter Two Of SALTARAE II, and then worked on Chapter Three. Word says I wrote 802 words, so with the re-writes call it 830. I still don’t have a clear idea of the arc of this story, though. I know from experience that will only come clear after I write enough incidents...so that’s the goal.

SARÁYI is in a state of cryonic torpor. Pretty much know where I’m going with that story, but the characters are being uncharacteristically silent. When I have a story arc on SALTARAE II, I will spend some time concentrating on SARAYI.

The other project, intended to be a ‘short’ novel perhaps suited to YA readers, has a working title: “A SEPARATE REALITY”. Waiting for what’s next, I am. Will Mindy Barrie, teenaged daughter of the US Secretary of Espionage really go hunting for Russian spies in what used to be Alaska? Sorta looks like she’s that kinda girl...

So that’s the latest news from the Word Mines.

Gotta go. See ya!
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"Andrew!" The woman's voice was soft and respectful, though no less insistent.

"Count Andrew," she said: "Your Excellency..."

He opened his eyes slowly and breathed in deeply: "Something important?"

"As per your excellency's orders: a new batch of refugees is approaching." It was one of the few things that justified the interruption of his hour of meditation.

"Hmm. What has been done?"

"Sir Alec has ordered reinforcements to the walls. Lady Gwen has mustered the archers. Viscount Ruslan has taken a patrol away south, to come behind the band unnoticed."

"Oh. A large group, then?"

"At least thirty...by the way, the stranger, Ambros, has disappeared. He may also be behind the newcomers."

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Yesterday I had a satori as regards one of the books I’m writing right now. That is SALTARAE TWO, as yet untitled, the continuing adventures of a guy who looks a lot like me and gets to travel the Multiverse fighting for Truth, Justice, and the Hellenic Way. (Yes, it’s wish fulfillment; sue me.)

I’d sat down about a year ago and pounded out Chapter One of a possible sequel, trying to hit all the high notes necessary to remind my fans about what already happened and then push the action forward. (FYI, I believe I’m going to serialize this at LJ, like I did the original. (SALTARAE: an Adventure Across Timelines.)
Then I sat on that as I wrote bits and pieces, chunks and whole Chapters from further ahead in the story; I even wrote some stuff that may not appear until a third book. And a short story a couple years ahead in that Timeline, and a Chapter that might start the (possible) fourth book in that series...

Other projects distracted me, as well: such as the other two books that I am allegedly writing...things are a little scattered at the moment, Don’t worry, it will all work out.

But I kept saying: “Ya really oughta post that first chapter, your fans are waiting...”

Something held me back. I wasn’t satisfied, and I didn’t know why.

NOW I do. See, there’s no way in Hades or Eblis that Mr. Rothakis would make any plans for the day after the events at the Mainstage Meadow that didn’t involve getting RIGHT IN MAGISTRI ARRENJI”S FACE and demanding to know what, if anything, she knew about some kind of Hellenic activism or operations in United States Imperial Timeline Number Seventeen in the 20s and 30s of the 20th Century of the Christian Hypothesis.

So I have a chapter to revise: The old bastard is not going to hunt for gold coins in a Quiet Timeline, or infiltrate a homeless camp, or sell the gold in NYC, or avoid being seen by a woman named Andrea Scharffen in that same City, or anything else that might include blah blah...At least, not until Chapter Two.

Gotta go. See ya!
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The Luddite Author continues the process of dragging *himself* kicking and screaming into the Twenty-First Century of the Christian Hypothesis. The foundations of Reality shudder, and the Multiverse takes note.



Now I can print t-shirts and stuff and make myself into a walking advertisement.
Better yet: I can cause unsuspecting people to wear the shirts, turning *them* into advertisements.

OK, maybe not that last bit. Consenting adults may wear the t-shirts, tho.
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A short story by A.M. Brosius.

Mr. Ambros Rothakis walked along the cliff top, stopping occasionally to gaze at the waves crashing against the rocks below.

‘I suppose the fellow could have wound up in the sea,’ he thought. ‘Not likely, though.’

He reached his destination, a spot across the road from a very famous restaurant. He could see the bull logo from that position. ‘I can’t see any other solution to the mystery. Let’s see if my guess is correct.’ He fired up his MPS; the invisible wristband produced a hologram of a Shifter. He pulled the actual Shifter out of the patch pocket on the left thigh of his cargoes. The Shifter bore a striking resemblance to a hockey puck, and weighed only a trifle less.

With both machines activated, he could clearly see the Timeline Gate in the parking lot across the highway. ‘It’s inactive, of course...I wonder how Mr. Jannsen managed to activate it?’

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Musings

Feb. 6th, 2015 09:39 pm
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Someone posted a meme somewhere that used that (bogus?) quote about a revolution every twenty years or so...supposedly from Jefferson.

As a guy who writes Alternate History, I occasionally think about such things. After all, the creation of the US was a step forward. If you think about what Frank Herbert called “the Pharaohnic Imperative”, you can see that the Founders resisted that, and created something significantly different than any previous gov’t.

I do not think we have continued that forward momentum.

So, here’s an Alternate History, in the form of a Timeline:

1796-1800: Repeated violent Slave Revolts, violently put down. Abolitionists arm escaped slaves.

1800-03: Guerilla warfare across the South.

1804: The election of President Thomas Paine (first three-term President.) End of slavery; Citizenship for all former slaves. Indigenous peoples create 3 new and separate States, elect first congressmen.

1824: Farmer’s revolution: boycotts of all banks, leading to the banning of usury. ‘Town Meeting‘ democracy becomes the norm all over the US, anticipating the Direct Democracy movement of the century’s end.

1825: Founding of NOWR: the National Organization for Women’s Rights.

1825-42: Rising power of NOWR: demonstrations violently put down.

1843; WOMEN’S REVOLT. General strike by women, backed by Farmer’s Union and the Grange.

1844: Constitutional Amendment: Universal Suffrage.

1865: Constitutional Amendment: Food Clothing and Shelter not to be denied to any citizen. Owen makes first proposal for moneyless economy.

1865-1900: Due to the previous two Amendments, a million flowers bloom: New developments in science and the arts transform society; American inventors advance Babbage’s work to unheard-of heights. First electrical motors, practical lightbulbs, and powered airships.

[1871: the Paris Commune fights off invasion, expands speedily across France. Local assemblies practicing Direct Democracy pop up all over Europe, especially Germany and England. Ireland adopts DD, declares Independence.]

1900: Women take the lead in the US House and Senate, forge ahead with birth control and child health initiatives. Congress votes to arm Cuban and Filipino revolutionaries, but refuses to deploy American troops. (This sets a precedent)

1910: Nikola Tesla (an immigrant from Croatia) creates the first binary computer language. His partner Thomas Edison’s work with vacuum tubes sets the stage for radio and TV.

1921: “New Media” (TV , film, and Radio) declared ‘non-commercial’. Town meetings exert local control over radio, begin to produce TV programs. Advocates of ‘the moneyless economy’ merge with the “Society for the Economy of the Gift” to form a powerful political party.

1932: The “Gifters” eke out a narrow victory over the Meritocratic Party in National elections. Reforms continue, based on the narrow common ground between the parties. “Green Party” founded; problems caused by pollution debated in Town Meetings nationwide.

1955: (January) General Strike by women, farmers, youth, in favor of ‘a more moneyless economy’ and ‘Status not Wealth’. With neither women nor young people working, and in fear what striking farmers will do to the food supply, the Gov’t yields: agrees to study demands, effect change.

1956: National elections divide power nearly equally: Meritocrats, Gifters, Greens, each have about a third of the Congress. Gifters have 34 Senate seats, nearly all women. An obscure academic named Eleanor Roosevelt wins the Presidency for the Gifters; her vice president is a man from the State of Cherokee, who has Meritocratic leanings, but is a member of the Green Party.

1959: Brief war with the Empire of Brazil. Airships from the US litter the country with pamphlets explaining DD and the Economy of the Gift. The Empire falls, breaking into thousands of independent DD assemblies.

Hmmm. I’m running out of steam here. MAYBE, if I ever finish all me other Writing Projects, I’ll do a novel or two set in this reality. Could be fun.


Gotta go! See ya!

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