Merry Christmas to all!

So tis' the season to be jolly? hm. Why be jolly when you can be absolutely ecstatic? I went through my presents today and was smiling broadly at the items I have received. Articles of clothing one could ONLY find in Nigeria! I cannot wait to strut around my room with that thing on. Bright blue with intricate designs on the front. I also got some cologne! not just any cologne, but success cologne! It smells really nice. Now I'm enjoying running through my music library and making beats to use later in garageband. If you all got something nice, share it! especially if it's something you've been waiting on for a long time. speaking of which... i should upload a wishlist on here. just in case I get lucky.
The thought for the day. Carpe Diem.
A latin phrase, i think, that means "seize the day". If there's any day you should seize, it is today! today? today! as in xmas today!
more to come. in the meantime, enjoy your holidays :)

The Immortal Photographer (3)

Chewing on some jerky taken from the panic room, Marcus looked down the stairwell at the body of the security guard. The guard’s body had shifted position slightly. He slowed and listened intently for any sign of pursuit. His instincts, a built in mechanism in all organisms, could never be dulled out by his unusual biology. His hairs stood on end while his heart began hammering. The blood flowing through his body carried the juices of fight-or-flight and kept Marcus’s eyes fixed on the body.

Making sure that his weapons were loaded, he took out the old man’s cell phone and flipped through the options. He smirked when he found the music player. He set the volume at the maximum and selected a song.

Metal music, from decades ago, blared from the tiny device and turned the cramped quarters of the stairwell into a concert hall. The sudden change in atmosphere excited the pursuers. They began advancing with ravenous speed.

With his suspicions confirmed, Marcus began taking four steps at a time up the stairwell.

“Status on pick up?”

Three flights from the roof, he tossed the phone down the well. The music slowing began to dull as it accelerated to the bottom floor. Perhaps that would throw the infected off for a little while.

“They left base about 12 minutes ago, ETA is approximately 8 minutes. You on the roof?”

He crashed through the door and ran to the opposite side of the roof, guns trained on the door.

“Listen, I’m out here. It’s almost dawn.”

He peeked over the edge towards the closest building hoping to find a soft place to land should he have to jump. He hated pain, even when he knew it would go away. He turned his attention back to the door and began to wonder if the infected would pursue him if he dove.

Skype! of the future

Skype has been out now for a good while. I first encountered this program while on vacation in Cape Town. The device allows you to call anyone anywhere with the same program. You can have video chats and simple chat. I also found that, after a fixed purchase, you can make calls to any cell phone! download it! use it!

Yeats Vs Joyce

Joyce & Yeats on Irish Nationalism

Two of Ireland’s most respected writers, Joyce and Yeats, were one of the most influential voices to ever integrate into British literature. Though both were respected for their work, they had different ways of introducing Ireland and its culture. One congratulates her fighters, while the other dramatizes the corruption and other immoral behaviors that reside within her.

W.B Yeats’ shifting view of Irish Nationalism

W.B. Yeats loved his homeland. He often wrote poems about Ireland, but the poems that really stand out are his contemporary perspectives on Irish nationalism. In Easter 1916 Yeats is confronted with the reality of using violence to become a martyr. He uses imagery to mention some of the nationalist leaders he knew. The second stanza mentions the woman, Constance Gore-Booth, and various other leaders in various images of pride. A “winged horse” and “harriers” are both powerful images because they not only embody the person Yeats is speaking of, but these images also help refer to other actions of courage or bravery. Yeats strongly used imagery, according to Hutchinson, to continually nurture and support “the national spirit”. He wanted Ireland to become strong in social and political dealings with its neighbors, and he believed that it was his role, as a writer, to help spur this into action (Hutchinson 15). However, we can see, in the text of “Easter 1916”, that he abhors the use of violence to fulfill such actions. Stanza five remarks the futility of committing violent acts, since it breeds more violent behavior. “Too long a sacrifice/ Can make a stone of the heart./O when may it suffice?”. Then continues on with a final bout of pride mixed with some humility. “Wherever green is worn, are changed, changed utterly: a terrible beauty is born.” Yeats says, “a terrible beauty is born” many times at the ends of various stanzas, but the final one stands out more to me because it integrates beauty with martyrdom. To some, it may very well appear as beautiful, but to others (perhaps Yeats at times) it presents more futile behavior that is only notable because of his personal knowledge of those involved.

Analysis of W.B. Yeats view

According to Jonathan Allison, author of “The attack on Yeats”, Yeats compared his writing to blood sacrifices for Ireland. Though these “blood sacrifices” weren’t really bloody, they were described this way because of how they mimicked traditional Irish custom. Each generation, blood was spilled to “secure immortality for those who died for Ireland”. Comparatively, Yeats wrote many works on or supporting Irish nationalism, which further supports his non-violent approach to securing a strong Ireland (63). According to D.G. Boyce, Yeats wanted to use nationalism as “the stalking horse” in English literature. The stalking horse can be attributed to death, an inevitability, to describe how it is destined for Irish ways to fully integrate itself in modern literature. He did this by using Irish techniques, taken from strong Gaelic backgrounds, and fully incorporating them into his works. Yeats used Irish culture and political strife to help put his Ireland “on the map” so to speak, in the world of British literature. His views were not the only ones being expressed though.

Joyce’s view/ background

James Joyce was repulsed and embarrassed by Ireland. He scorned the idea of Irish nationalism, describing that Ireland was “dead” in some of his texts. His strong criticism of Ireland can be seen in Dubliners. Each story within Dubliners is reflecting some aspect of Irish life that he saw as unfit. For example, in “The Dead” the main character is confronted with the fact that his wife is mourning the loss of a young love, which makes him question his own mortality. The imagery used in the last bit of the story uses ambiguous language to help expand the emotions that other people may have about Ireland. Each story of Dubliners is filled with some sort of corruption, misleading, manipulative, and even perverse behavior. James Joyce felt so strongly about Ireland in this way that he exiled himself from it, wanting nothing to do with it, and explicated his thoughts in Dubliners.

Yeats and Joyce’s differences and similarities in Irish texts

Yeats focused on the nationalistic movement that was going on in Ireland. He often referred to his writings as “spilt blood” which help immortalize the heroes that have fought and died for Ireland. He looked down and questioned the use of violence to communicate a point, often referring to the deed as a “Terrible Beauty”. To further “immortalize” those heroes of Ireland, he uses Gaelic techniques and culture to successfully integrate Ireland into British literature. Joyce, however, did the very same thing but with a different perspective. Though he was not fond of Ireland, he wrote about it in more “realistic” terms. The characters he described were not glorified in any way but often depicted as pathetic or clueless. Though the two authors have their obvious differences about their homeland, they both used literature to communicate and immortalize certain aspects of her.

Works Cited

Allison, Jonathan. The Attack on Yeats 1990

Boyce, David G., NetLibrary, Inc. Nationalism in Ireland [electronic resource] 2003

Howes, Marjorie E., NetLibrary, Inc. Yeats's nations [computer file] : gender, class,
and Irishness 1996

Hutchinson, John. The Dynamics of Cultural Nationalism: The Gaelic Revival and the

Creation of the Irish Nation State. London: Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1987

Nolan, Emer, NetLibrary, Inc. James Joyce and nationalism [electronic resource]
1995

Potts, Willard, NetLibrary, Inc. Joyce and the two Irelands [electronic resource] 2000

Human Made Nature

The recent advancements in scientific technology have allowed us to manipulate nature in more ways than ever before. We use massive machinery to cultivate and fertilize land, to collect and care for animals, to process foods, and to engineer cars. Today, our machines can do all that, and now, more complex chores. More specifically, we can genetically modify nature to further suit our needs and wants. What are the potential consequences of purposeful tampering with the genetic code of the creatures around us? Would these man-made beings even be considered animals? Why bother being more intrusive, and is it worth it?
Humans have been taking advantage of the genetic traits of animals for hundreds of years. The domestic breeding of dogs, cats, cattle, and goats are a few examples of this. Dogs have been bred differently to satisfy a specific look or ability. Dachshunds were bred to hunt and pursue badgers down burrows, and sheep dogs were bred to herd sheep. The Maasai, a tribe in Eastern Africa, pick and choose cattle to use in ceremonies and as a sort of currency, the fittest and largest being highly prized. One well-known form of this breeding, known as “selective breeding” a form of genetic manipulation, is practiced by Belgian cow breeders. They are known as Belgian blues. Breeders choose the more muscled offspring to breed with other muscled cows. The result is a cow that appears to have been shot up with incredible amounts of steroids and other growth hormones. Their large appearance is completely natural, and companies pay top dollar for these walking meat houses (National Geographic). But selective breeding isn’t as intrusive as the GM, genetic manipulation, of today. Today we are able to take the gene from bioluminescent jellyfish and coral, and insert it into other creatures. The most notable version of this manipulation is the Glofish. The Glofish is a Zebra Danio that displays the “glow” gene. The fish glows brightly under bright light and even more so when put under a UV light. The fish are sold as pets. An immediate problem with this type of manipulation is the environmental effect it could have on the ecosystem. Katie Kaczmarek, a genetics researcher, says that, “If genetically altered organisms were released into the wild, it could dramatically affect the ecosystem”(prgh 9).
“Only the strong survive”, the Darwinian tagline, is a phrase we’ve heard over and over. What if this statement could be applied to a man-made organism? Suppose the creature is “weak”, or dependent on humans, and expires soon after being released into the wild. There is not much cause for alarm in this specific situation, because no real damage was done to the ecosystem. On the other hand, suppose the organism is not only independent, but overwhelms its own environment. It would, for a lack of a better word, conquer it. This has been seen in history before. When rabbits were brought to Australia, they multiplied and nearly decimated indigenous plant life. The animals that inhabited the continent were brought to near starvation because the rabbits did not have a natural enemy. Today, rabbits are considered the number one pest and are illegal to own. This is just a small taste of what introducing a foreign organism to a foreign ecosystem can do. Imagine the consequences of introducing an organism with man made abilities or qualities. To stop any sort of environmental damage, their genetic code could go on for a generation or two, and then become infertile. This set-up effectively turns the organism into a product that must be purchased from a distributor.
While selective breeding has been done to magnify a quality of an organism, GM allows us to construct an organism with a given purpose. The potential of GM organism, in theory, is practically limitless. GM animals could have dozens of applications to help us with the problems of today. Global warming, hunger, and healthcare are a few problems that GM animals could help with.
Global warming is caused by the build-up of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. What if a plant could be genetically manipulated to perform photosynthesis in a faster, more productive fashion? Pulling in massive amounts of carbon dioxide and putting out just as much oxygen could be an interesting solution to put into action. However, the application of such plants may become an environmental problem in itself. Let’s say that the process worked, but all too well. The output of oxygen may eventually become too great and the world would be doomed to not global warming but oxygen poisoning or maybe a scorched earth, since oxygen feeds fire.
World hunger has always been a serious problem and the solutions never seem to satisfy. What if a plant could be genetically modified to sustain more people? Corn could grow faster and larger. A single stalk could have the potential to feed a couple dozen people. A tomato could be sliced into 20 sandwiches, or diced into four 16oz cans. The problems that arise from this are addressed from a nutritional perspective. GM foods have been found to have a negative impact. The researchers who specialize in soy products, and upload their findings on soyinfo.com, comment on the potential hazards of GM foods. During an experiment they found that “GM foods can, when fed to animals, cause very gradual organ damage and immune system damage” (soyinfo). Though it is still in its early stages, the gain from such foods can be gratifying to those who hunger for a solution.
Healthcare is another important problem to address. People who require a heart or a set of lungs are typically added to a very long waiting list. GM has been taking steps to help with this problem. “Pigs have hearts similar to humans in size, shape and function ”(line 69). So the idea of growing a pig with human organs sounds like an interesting puzzle for scientists (Fiona Macrae). The pigs would be born and grow with human hearts, lungs and intestines. The idea is to have a wide variety of organs ready for transplant for those who require it. The obvious remark one could make about that it is cruel animal treatment, but these pigs are no longer pigs. Rather, they are considered medical tools, like a scalpel or syringe, and are kept in a clean environment like a medical tool. They are recognized this way because they are born sterile and have a given purpose in life.
Genetically modified organisms are just another form of innovation on the horizon for the human race. They are created with a given purpose, whether it’s to feed, clean, heal, or entertainment. The term “product” will become stretched in its definition and laws will have to be written to fit their existence into society. We would still be using nature the way we have always been, but it will become more intrusive and interconnected. Selective breeding has proven to be a safe and manageable way to manipulate the genetic material of animals. Breeders of all types herald the method as a way to better human way of life. Scientists could say the same, with GM, but the risks have been observed as potentially destructive. But the theoretical potential for success would save many lives and make the world a better place to live in.

Also, check out GM pig promo on youtube

Works Cited
GM animals: do the ends justify the means. Gene Watch, June 2003.
www.genewatch.org
This article leaves an open-ended question of whether it is worth having genetically altered animals in the world. They may have some economic value and perhaps strong medicinal purposes. Perhaps animals have become something more than just a beast we catch, kill, and eat. The article addresses some of the GM animals of today, some for novelty, others for economy.
Health Hazards of Genetically-Manipulated Foods, http://www.soyinfo.com
The foods of GM plants have been tried and tested on animals and have shown to have a degrading effect on tissue and immune systems. Using this information will help my audience understand that though GM has good applications and intentions, it is not an exact science. The researchers are supporters of soy products and have conducted experiments where they have manipulated foods, and fed them to animals. Their observations are an important controversy to address.
Kaczmarek, Katie. To Uplift or Not To Uplift: The Ethics of Genetic Manipulation
http://serendip.brynmawr.edu/biology/b103/f00/web1/kaczmarek.html
Uplift is defined as the ability of an organism to survive in a given ecosystem. GM toys with this idea because the product that is created is not natural but came about of science and recombination of genes. This article addresses the potential environmental effects of a GM animal. Since the animal doesn’t have a natural set-up, but a rather convoluted genetic make up, would it be capable of sustaining itself in an ecosystem? This is an important topic for the essay as it addresses a possible environmental impact GM could have.
Macrae, Fiona. Winston backs breeding 'designer pigs with hearts for humans'.
http://www.mailonsunday.co.uk
This article addresses some ethical issues associated with GM pigs. It gives details about the anatomy of pigs and how similar they are to our own. The application of GM pigs is also identified, they can carry lungs as well as other vital human organs. Since the pig’s anatomy is similar to humans, why not engineer a pig that grows human organs? The idea is simple and could have hundreds of benefits for those waiting for transplants. Using this article will be a driving force in my perspective of GM products.
National Geographic. Produced by Chad Cohen. Meet the Super Cow.
www.youtube.com.
Super cow is an example of selective breeding, which is a non-intrusive form of GM. The term GM comes from genetic manipulation, and in this video the example given is the way that Belgian blue cows are bred. The cows have significant increase in muscle mass, and this was achieved through selecting only the “beefiest” of cows and bulls. The market for such meat is highly prized. These cows have a purpose and it is clearly indicated.
The Independent, UK. 5-Animals: Risk of GM animals is worth it, say scientists
http://news.independent.co.uk/
This article effectively identifies a coupe of risks associated with GM. They also include benefits such as economic benefitting and social benefit. The risks are not ignored but are rather juxtaposed with the reward that may present itself should research and testing continue without halt. They mention trial and error and the importance of continuing based on a preferred goal rather than stunt progress because of an ethical question. Theology is addressed in that,“GM is nothing more than selective breeding (something humans have practiced for centuries) accelerated.”

Sleeping Beauty

Prologue

The last thing I remember is the light. The light was so bright, and warm. I was sure it would be the last thing anybody would see. I remember how I eyes refused to close, no matter how much I willed them to. It was as if I was retreating further and further into my own body, losing control of all functions. Feeling no pain, no cold, just grateful warmth around me.

They tried their best to keep me comfortable. The doctors I mean. My wife was there. So was mother. Andrew, my son, was holding my hand, but that sensation too came to pass. I knew I was dying. Surrounded by family, and all I could think about was when I’d wake up again.
23 months ago, Marie, my wife, suggested I get a check up. I was feeling a little bit under the weather. So I reluctantly agreed. They took my blood and ran it through a fancy machine, and out of this fancy machine came an un-fancy result.

Cancer.

They gave me 7 months…

Marie tried everything. Experimental treatment. Chemo. Even black magic. In the end I ended up losing 90 pounds, all of my hair, my job, my ability to walk on my own, and all hope. I knew I was dying.

Marie refused to give up though. Before my hearing had abandoned me on that bed, I heard her agreeing to something. Signing something, whimpering and saying, “All I want is for him to live… no matter what. No matter when.”

That’s when she looked over me and whispered into my ear. She told me how I would wake up and everything would be better.

Slowly, she backed away, and that’s when I lost it. I couldn’t hear anything in the room. I looked around frantically and realized how hard it became to breathe. The numbness started in my legs and gradually worked its way up to my face. I didn’t want to say anything. I knew there would be no point. No point in delaying the inevitable. I felt my body expel the last bit of air from my diseased form. That’s when I began to focus on the light. That blinding hospital lamp.

Convincing myself that that was the famed light at the end of the tunnel. I knew I was dead.

At least I thought I was. Marie was right. I woke up. Unfortunately she was also wrong, everything was not better.

My name is Vincent Wohl. Born in Virginia 1994. Died in Michigan 2041. Resuscitated in United Nations capital No. 52 formerly known as California 4623.

I am known as “Sleeping Beauty”.

Chapter 1: Rude Awakening

I came into the world slowly. The first thing I remember was the bright light. The light ebbed away to reveal a field of sunflowers. In all directions, just endless fields of sunflowers, and a sky so blue it was as if a painter entered my reality and decided to do some decorating. I was standing. At my feet was a pond and inside the pond was Marie. She was so beautiful. She levitated above the water, lying down on air. Breathing calmly.

I decided to make my way over to her. I took a step and found that the same air holding Marie held me as well. I didn’t know any better really. I thought I was in heaven. And for the sake of my sanity, I let myself believe that.

When I was close enough to her, I laid myself down next to her. She was in nearly transparent sleepwear. Her hair was flowing in the air, suspended by an unseen force. Her head looked like an anemone. I reached out to touch her, to see if she was really there. She was. Her skin was smooth, clean, and warm. Whatever force was flowing through her began to make its way through my fingertips and up into my chest. It felt alive. I could feel it traveling through my system, intricately working itself into all parts of me. That’s when I felt myself take a breath. My chest expanded to three times its normal size, and it held for the longest time. My sigh was matched by Marie’s exhale. She was awake. She sat up to hug me.

That’s when the dream changed. After Marie hugged me, she pulled back and told me how proud she was of me. She told me to live my life. Told me all the things you’d expect to hear before a farewell. I knew I would never see her again. She stood and turned. Before I had any say, she dove into the pond. It was strange… Soon as she was submerged, the pond became an ocean. The ocean was glowing with the same force that occupied my body.

The sky started to turn into night, and I had a strong urge to dive in after her. The uplifting air slowly dissipated, and I was lowered into the water. Like a lobster into boiling water, I tried to fight my way out. I descended to the depths at an alarming rate. All was black. That’s when I heard the applause.

Chapter 2: The Prince

My ears were bombarded with noise. Skin slapping against skin. It was such a foreign sound. I felt cool and comfortable. I opened my eyes. They didn’t take everything in immediately. Yellow petals, multiple suns, and blue outlines. I thought I was in the field again. I heard warbled voices, and saw floating shapes. I thought I was sucked into purgatory or something.

“Vincent Wohl? Can you hear me?”

I turned my head and uttered Marie’s name.

Again, the foreign noise paddled my eardrums. I fell asleep. A dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, I felt fantastic. There wasn’t the throbbing pain of diseased lungs, no more headaches, not even gas. The room I was in was clean, crisp, and cool. I looked down at myself. I looked like I had been going to the gym. My torso was beautifully toned. My hair was cut short, my nails were done, even my toes felt like they had received some treatment. I was beginning to wonder how this all came to be when a man walked into the room. As soon as he made eye contact with me, he shook with glee. A massive smile spread across his face.

“You’re awake. It’s a pleasure to meet you Sir, I’ve been watching your resuscitation period from the moment you were found in that underground lab.”

I gave him a quizzical look. His accent was foreign, from what I could tell. He had brown skin and short black hair. He wore strange black arm gloves that worked into a one-piece suit. He didn’t look like any nurse I’ve seen. I realized I was staring at him, so I spoke.

“Where am I?”

The words came out of a sore throat. It felt as if I hadn’t spoken in a long time. Using my vocal chords again felt like trying to ride a new bike.

Soon as the words came out, he was in awe. Before he could answer me, he rushed out of the room and was gone.

I felt very uneasy. Everything about the room I was in looked foreign, yet somehow familiar. I sat up. All the equipment I was hooked up to was gone. Instead there was what looked like a monitor built into the wall next to me. It glowed with readings, readings that were, I realized, synonymous with my life signs. When I breathed in, I saw a section of what looked like a heart speed up slightly. I didn’t see any electrodes on my body.

“It’s a Life-Monitor. State of the art health surveillance system created just for you. Your immune system is very different from ours, so we have to watch you very carefully.“

The famed “Prince” of the new world, the one who brought me back to life. Her name was Dr. Priscilla Patel. A leading doctor in the UNC 52.

Free gear!

Today I came across a very interesting offer, and was surprised at the easiness of it all! There are a few sites out there that I am sure you will find to be scamming you, but this site is not one of them! I am on a very tight budget, so I don't have the luxury of purchasing video games every couple of weeks, but there are companies out there who would be more than happy to help with that!
http://gifts.innovusnet.com?refBy=372
This is a link to an advertising company that rewards people for helping to spread the word on their products. I have signed up for a few electronics if I refer a certain number of people to this site. You may be a little skeptical, of course, but this site makes it very easy. First of all, there's nothing to purchase! Second, all you have to do is go-along with one of the offers listed. most of the offers are cheap, some are even free! None, however, demand any kind of commitment. The more people that I can have looking on this site, the closer I am to my goal of getting free gear! So, do not fear! click and apply and have a great holiday cheer!

Writing is good for the membrane

I enjoy writing about ethical issues. The whole process demands a great amount of time and patience. Crafting a paper to an accepted standard can be a bore sometimes, especially if you like to be creative about it. but the whole approach is the same. What I like to do, when researching an ethical issue, is to begin by using the famed W questions. I was introduced to these questions by the great Mr. T, and they have sunk in pretty well (thx T.). What, Why, Where, When, Who, and sometimes How. When writing about anything, you have to know what you are talking about. There is nothing worse than reading a paper that's filled with ignorance. If you are doing a report about abortion, define abortion for yourself, then find an accepted definition. Find out why it's done, could it be disease related? Think about where they do it. can it be performed anywhere? even on a desert island? When was it first introduced? Who would want to do this?
Of course, you should craft your w questions to the idea your paper is trying to communicate, but the above is a simples start, which is better than nothing.
Researching about these things expands and exposes you to wide world. There is much to learn.

Temporarily clear up a stuffy nose

Looking to get a few clean inhales through the nasal passages? Do this, and be firm. It usually works.
1. Push your tongue against the roof of your mouth and hard as you can.
2. Take your thumb (since it has more surface area than any other digit) and place it where your uni-brow may or may not be, with the tip of your thumb pointed down and against the bridge of your nose.
3. Push your thumb into your face, and keep you tongue rigid against your palate.
4. Hold it for as long as you can.
5. Release and breathe easy!

All the pushing and squeezing helps open up your nasal passages, allowing you to breathe!

iTunes's money making scheme

I have an extensive library of music in my itunes account. I purchase items through the itunes store. I sometimes get huge collections, music videos, audiobooks, and movies (waiting anxiously for Dark Knight). What struck me as a little odd was the option to purchase ringtones out of some of songs people may already have. This may not concern a few of you, but for those of you with a Mac and an iphone may want to know the following.
As you know, the iphone can hold and play music. What it cannot do is play that music as a ringtone unless it was purchased. The process allows you to customize the ringtone. Say, 12 seconds of the middle of a pop song. After you choose the timing, you click purchase.
People who actually do this aren't using their Apple products to their full potential. Macs and iphones are not gimmicks, they are tools.
Instead of using itunes store to purchase ringtone versions of songs you already have, you can use Garage Band.
Simply import the song, edit it to your liking, then export as a ringtone to your itunes library.
That's just for a song you may want as a ringtone! The application can be limitless.
My ringtone is the grandious song you typically hear before a movie begins.
Hope this helps to deal with some of the limited ringtones choices that come with the iphone, and keep costs down on un-needed purchases on things you could do by yourself.

Why write Fiction?

Fiction is all lies. But As Virgina Woolf said, there can be some truth in fiction. I like to write fiction because there is so much potential ground to cover. We can learn or be exposed to moral ideas or concepts but presenting fictional dilemmas. How these dilemmas present themselves is totally based on an authors talent for crafty storytelling, but I think it works when the reader begins to question what they themselves would do in that situation.

The Immortal Photographer (2)

Marcus put his ear against the door. He heard the growl of a vehicle die in intensity. They knew he had escaped, and were now trying to flee. He swung the door open and found that he had been brought to the lower levels of the building. The emergency lighting hadn’t died out yet so the lot was bathed in red lighting. The air was dry and haunted by ghosts of exhaust, spilled oil, and gasoline. Marcus held the revolver out in front of him as he jogged to the exit ramp. He got to the foot of the ramp when he heard the gate slam down just ahead of him.

“Great.”

He walked up to see if there were any switches to lift the gate. No switch, but a slit to see the outside. He peeked out the slit.

“Just great.”

His shoulders lowered as he saw the infected swarm around the building. Their numbers seem to grow every single day. They filled the street with the stench of decay. Marcus made a face and decided to make his way back. His camera was upstairs, so he looked for a set of stairs. He passed by the locker room where he was held and found a trail of blood leading away from it to a nearby security cubicle. He glanced inside and found that the old man was missing.

“Son of a bitch.”

He walked toward the cubicle and immediately knew what had happened. Marcus heard sounds of slurping and something tearing. He figured an infected had found its way down here and found an easy meal. He put the revolver away and pulled out the combat knife. Stepping closer, he looked into the cubicle. Blood was everywhere; on the floor, on the desk, on the upturned chair in the corner, on the paper that was strewn about, on the walls, and on the faces of three infected, who all looked with wide eyes at possibly the best meal they could ever have.

“Ah shit.”

They rose and stumbled over the remains of the old man as they made their way to Marcus. The one closest to him, a young girl who wore the clothing of a nurse, leaped first. Marcus wanted to keep quiet, to not attract anymore, so he let her collide with him. She landed on Marcus, with a combat knife through her nasal passage. He shoved the dead nurse aside and removed the knife just in time to drive it into the skull of the second infected leaper, a boy of about 17. His eyes were bloodshot but stopped moving. His piercing glare dug into Marcus, as if his eyes could eat more than the image of flesh and blood his brain registered.

Marcus stood up to meet the third. He was a big guy who wore tactical gear of a S.W.A.T. team member. He was covered from head to toe in body armor except for his left hand, where he was bitten, and the ragged opening in his mask where he chewed through the fabric to get to the flesh that defined his existence. Marcus felt sorry for the infected, and wondered if they were really only filled with furious hunger. He looked at the uniform. The S.W.A.T. member still had his sidearm, two canisters that looked like grenades, and a retractable nightstick. The man didn’t let Marcus make a decision. He was hungry. He rushed Marcus and pinned him against the wall. Marcus couldn’t lift the knife against the big man’s grip, and could barely shy back from the snapping jaws.

“Don’t… be such a… pig.” He said through clenched teeth.

He knew the man paid no attention to his suggestion. He quickly looked for a solution and remembered the canisters on the man’s uniform. With his free hand, Marcus pulled the ring on what he hoped was a flash bang grenade.

“This is not an all you can eat buffet.”

The next second was filled with bright light and deafening noise as the mercury and magnesium of the grenade blended together.

“Eat this.”

The effect gave Marcus just enough time to blindly shove his combat knife through the man’s mouth and sever his spinal cord. He felt the man fall as he lost control of everything below his neck. Marcus stood for a moment and waited for his healing to finish. His eyes were fried from the hot white light and his eardrums had exploded. When his ears healed, he heard the wet smacking of jaws and stood at ready. He stood tense as he began to see clearly again. There were no more infected. The wet smacking came from the man on the floor. He had lost control of his limbs, but his head was fully animated. His goggles had been shoved up a bit to reveal his eyes, which were locked on Marcus. His jaws were smacking violently, eager to pick his bones clean. The sound of his teeth slamming together made Marcus smirk. He approached the man. When he was close enough he crouched and watched him.

“Still ticking huh?”

Marcus carefully removed the man’s tactical gear. He took the nightstick, the sidearm and some ammunition clips. Both of the grenades had gone off in a chain reaction and left a patch of flash fried skin. The stench permeated the air, and almost made Marcus puke. It didn’t seem to bother the infected man, or draw his attention. He only focused on Marcus and continued to bite at the air. The blood from his throat wound was oozing out between his teeth, creating a pool around the head, and stretched out towards Marcus’ boots.

“Yeah, well… good luck with that.”

Marcus stood and made his way to the cubicle to see if the old man had been resurrected. He was not, but he did have a swipe card that stuck out of his blood soaked jacket. The card read, “Level 19 access, Mr. Heyrman”. Marcus took the card. That was probably where the old man had stowed his camera. He kept on eye out for anymore infected. None had come to investigate the noise from the flash bangs, so he figured the three had been stuck in the stairwell.
The stairwell door was propped open by the body of a security guard. The top of his head was gone and it looked like the infected had eaten him. Marcus wasn’t sure if he was killed by the infected or if he took his own life. The guard held his pistol so he favored the latter. After moving the body, so the door would close, Marcus looked up the stairwell to get a sense of how far level 19 was. He sighed and began to trek his way up to level 19.

On the way, he pondered about his headshot experience. The things he saw and experienced were wild and incomprehensible. He would experience his past memories in rapid succession, followed by flashing colors and a feeling of floating. One thing he remembered vividly was how he came to be.

His existence was always shrouded in mystery and he tried so hard to forget his beginning as an immortal. The “dream” was strange. He felt himself begin as a single celled organism with a conscience. He grew at a phenomenal speed into a zygote, then a fetus, and ultimately into a complete aware human form. The form was pinned and injected in every pore by beams of light. The light made him feel whole and invincible. He remembered seeing his form reach for the beams and pulling them out. The light died, but whenever his body was opened by some violent means, the light appeared again to seal the body back to perfection. He saw himself as perfect and incorruptible. The dream came to a peak when the form opened its eyes and glowing tears flowed down his cheeks.

Marcus overshot level 19 by a single step when he realized he had been daydreaming. He stepped back down and carefully opened the door. The hallway that revealed itself looked clean and well kept. He found a door and used the card he swiped from the old mans corpse. The door opened. It looked like this specific room was meant to be a panic room; an impregnable room with all essential supplies for survival. On the bed was his camera.

He picked it up and ran through the photos to make sure the old man didn’t do anything to them.

“Let’s see here… yeah. There’s one. Goody.” He seemed satisfied with the photos.

A call came through his radio.

“Marcus… the infected are decreasing in number in the streets. It looks like they’re making their way into a tall building. You don’t happen to be in there do you?”

Marcus grumbled in annoyance.

“I’m on the 19th floor, I just got my camera back, what’re my chances of a pick up on the roof?”

“Slim, but get up there anyway. If they crowd you, you can just jump to the next building over.”

“The next building? That’s over 7 floors below this one!”

“What. Are you scared you’ll die? We need those photos. Go to the roof.”

Marcus sighed once again, and began to make his way up to the 32nd floor of the tall building.

Gay Marriage

Gay marriage. It's seems to have become such a huge topic among us. There was recently a ban on gay marriage. This ban is very upsetting and makes me question the moral direction this country is taking. "The land of the free". That is what we call the United States. It's written in the songs I used to have to sing before class in middle school. Every day, the song was sung. To be honest, I never actually sang the song, but I stood. I stood because I got the hint that people have fought and died to set up this country. This country where it is stressed that one can live in freedom and fulfill the "pursuit of happiness". But how?
How can anyone believe that gay marriage should be even a subject to vote on?
It wasn't that long ago when interracial couples couldn't get married either. My parents wouldn't have been able to be together. Obama's parents couldn't have been together!
Hearing about these bans sound very "un-american" to me.
I really don't see what the issue is with homosexuality. We are all people. They are people too. We all have rights, as citizens of the land of the free. They are citizens too.
If there is anything to blame, it would be to blame the influence religions have on a governing system meant to accommodate people with various creeds.
I saw Religulous in theatres not too long ago and was astounded at a section about Bush's supporters. Some were voting just because of bush's religious affiliation.
It's so strange... You'd think people would get it the way did after having the anthem drilled into their heads every morning before class.
Obama got the message.
I'm extremely anxious for his term to begin.
Change is here.
Perhaps now our country will be put in the path it was meant to follow. we shall see

The Immortal Photographer (1)

“I already told you, I didn’t do it”

“I know what you told me, but tell me something new. What were you doing there?”

Marcus sighed.

The ropes binding his body to the chair were blood soaked and slowly chewing their way into his wrists and ankles.

“I was at the drop, with the camera. I was mailed money and instructions to photograph the switch.”

The room was dark except for the pulsing embers of unseen cigarette smokers and the blinding lamp that illuminated Marcus’ face.

One of the embers drew in close, revealing an old man. His eyes were dark green and he scrutinized Marcus’ face. Taking a long drag, he spoke.

“So, who was it? Who sent you this money?”

The sudden appearance of the old man’s face lit up Marcus’ further with the unmistakable features of recognition.

“You… but how?”

The old man pulled back into the darkness, snuffed his cigarette, and replaced its absence with the metallic click of a revolver.

“Answer the question Marcus”

“Go to hell”

For a few moments, the room was lit by the gunfire. The strobe-like effect revealed the rest of the room to Marcus. While each round entered his body and passed through his back, he managed to see who was in the room with the old man. They were dressed in robes and stood with arms crossed, eager to hear his answer.
Marcus coughed.

“You bastards… let me go. You can’t kill me, I will tell you nothing.”

The dark filled with chuckles and the sound of spent cartridges hitting ground, followed by the same metallic click.

“Is that so, how long can you last this torture? How long can anybody stand the pain of revolver fire into the chest? Head? Groin perhaps?"

Marcus’ ropes loosened with each round the old man fired into him. If he were to make it out of here, he would have to draw out the torture.

“I’ve experience more pain than you can imagine. Do what you will.”

Three rounds slammed into his diaphragm in rapid succession. The pain was unbearable. Marcus could feel the hot bullets melting a destructive path through him. They sliced muscles, shattered bones, and widened the chest cavity. Marcus was in a helpless state for a few moments, his organs had liquefied and blood had boiled out of his back, when his discomfort brought him to the point of fainting, all of the wounds began the heal. The blasts from the revolver had slightly shifted the lamps light down to Marcus’ chest where one could see his body stitch itself back together.

The organs reformed followed by the materialization of bone and muscle, but before the rest of the regeneration could be seen, the skin had sealed itself up. Only when the old man heard Marcus take a deep breath did he know that he had fully recovered. He lit another cigarette and readjusted the lamp back into Marcus’ face.

“Listen to me. I have three rounds left in this piece, each one will go into your head.”

“What are you waiting for then?”

The ember grew in brightness and smoke filled Marcus’ line of sight.

“What is it like to have your brains blown out? Must be a fascinating experience.”

“It’d be my pleasure to help you experience it.”

The ropes had loosened a little but were not loose enough to escape. If the old man kept shooting him in the head, his escape plan would take a lot longer than he expected. The constant regeneration was making him hungry. If he didn’t eat soon, his metabolism would slow, and so would his healing. Marcus wouldn’t die, of course, but the agony would last much longer than it had to.

“Take your best shot, I’ll let you know when I wake up.”

The old man laughed and the revolver came into view, the barrel nudged against Marcus’ forehead.

“Who sent you?”

Marcus leaned back in the chair. The blow of the revolver would knock him down and crush his hands. Turning them thin, and allowing them to slip through the ropes binding him, if he could act fast enough. He hoped his hands would stay crushed while his brain regenerated. He had never been shot in the head before, so he was a little nervous, but his fear of death had dissipated decades ago.

“Do it.”

The gun went off and just as he hoped, the chair fell on its back and crushed his hands, though Marcus was out cold. His brains were strewn about the floor along with bits of skull and hair. The old man sighed and snapped his fingers, the chair rose back into place and Marcus’ head lolled side to side spilling more blood.

“Now we wait.”

He could see the process had already begun. He holstered the revolver and began waiting for Marcus to wake up. The process took the better part of 20 minutes, and when Marcus finally opened his eyes, the barrel was once again set against his forehead.

“How was it?”

Marcus squinted and looked as though he was suffering from a headache, but he was really fighting against the regeneration of his hands. Just long enough to get one hand out without making it look obvious.

“Quite pleasant, imagine being taken back to your earliest memory and reliving every moment of your life at the same time. By the way, how long was I out?”

“Long enough to thin my patience you insolent…”

A hand came out of the shadows and moved the revolver away from Marcus’ face. The hand was gloved in leather and held the gun while a voice spoke in a hushed tone.

“They have found the entrance, it’s only a matter of time before they come through this way. We cannot hurt this man, but we may be able to use him.”

“I see, hit the lights.”

The room was lit. Marcus quickly held his free hand against the tied one to keep his captors deceived. The old man directed the robed individuals out the door and turned back to face Marcus once again.

“Those cannibals will be here soon, I would put you out of your misery but, since I can’t, instead I’ll knock you out. When you wake up, someone may be chewing on you.”

The old man brought up the revolver and craftily flipped it over, preparing to whip Marcus’ into unconsciousness. As he swung down, Marcus lashed out with his free hand and grabbed the revolver. He slid his finger into the trigger and pulled. The action took the old man by surprise and the revolver discharged a round into his stomach. He released the revolver and grabbed his gut. Marcus put the gun against his bound wrist and fired. The round tore through the wrist and Marcus pulled the mangled hand free.

The old man was bleeding out from the bullet wound. He reached into his pants to grab a cell phone. Marcus took careful aim and expertly threw the gun at the old man’s head, knocking him out. He sat a moment and watched his hand regenerate.

He tapped the skin below his left ear lobe to activate his radio.

“This is Marcus. Do you read me?”

“Marcus? Your transmission is weak, where are you?”

“A little tied up… I’ll be there with the film in an hour.”

“Hurry, we need those photos. I hope you’re not in the city, there’s a lot of infected down there.”
There was a crash in the rooms above Marcus. Fumbling footsteps and screeches.

“Yeah, they’re already here.”

“Oh, wow… um. Give me your location, I’ll send in a pick up.”
Marcus began untying his ankles.

“I’ll let you know, soon as I get outside. Look, I can take a bite from these things, but if they overwhelm me… think of me as meat that never runs out.”

There was a pause.

“Right. Get topside and keep broadcasting, the pick up will trace you.”
Marcus stood and made his way to the old man. He fumbled through the man’s coat and pants for a phone and ammunition for the revolver. He found three speed loaders and a combat knife.
He then grabbed the man by his collar and slapped him awake.
The old man groaned in pain, and tried to bat away Marcus’ hands.

“You… where did you put my camera?”

He coughed blood but smiled weakly.

“It’s upstairs…good luck.”

His eyes rolled back and the man was gone. Marcus stood, and hung his head low. He knew he’d have to fight his way threw them. He was beginning to weaken. The torture had taken a huge toll on his body. He reached into his back pocket for a power bar. He took his time eating it. The taste of protein was bland but rejuvenating. He ate another one before he loaded the revolver and made his way to the door. He looked back at the dead old man and mumbled under his breath.

“All this for a goddamned picture…”

His stomach growled.

“Yeah, I hear you. We’ll be home for dinner.”