Acadian: I did a lot of work on developing power sources that would be in use in the Stormcrow-Verse. The first thing I did was I looked at comics and films to see what sort of energy sources they used. I was very disappointed to find that almost none actually come out and say so. For example, we know from the Marvel Cinematic Universe that Iron Man has an Arc Reactor that powers his suit. So what is an Arc Reactor? They never say. It is literal vaporware. It is the same everywhere else. No one will actually say "This is what powers our technology".
So I turned to predictions on future science, and almost every source there talks about power sources for entire cities and nations. Things like Geothermal, Wind, Solar, etc... Of course these things are not really going to be a whole lot of use in a vehicle or suit of powered armor. They are either stationary, or require too much size to be of any use. Imagine trying to put a solar farm on the back of a motorcycle. The bike would have to be the size of Delaware.
That left very little to look at. But I did come up with a few things. A handful of games point to Dark Energy as a power source (the Mass Effect games for one). This is kind of vague, since we don't really know what Dark Energy even is. But something exists that seems to be pushing the Universe apart, and we call it Dark Energy, so ok. I decided to just use it vaguely as well. Zero Point energy is another example of a science fiction energy. It might work someday, but would probably take more energy to run that it would yield up. I can wave my hand at that and say meta-inventors can turn that around. Of course matter-antimatter reactions have been around since at least Star Trek. And IRL we can make anti-matter in the lab. So that was instantly in.
I spent a lot of time poring over hydrogen fuel cells. They have the same problem as zero point, in that they are currently very inefficient. But again, I can say a super inventor like Gadget can overcome that to make it very potent. So that went in. It was originally going to be in the Stormcycle in fact. But then I came across ultra-dense deuterium in a fusion reactor. That seemed ideal. So I went with a 'standard' fusion reactor using only normal deuterium for the motorcycle. With Avery thinking about how to implement an ultra-dense version in the future.
I spent a huge amount of time on that.
Renee: Fusion is generally considered more safer than Fission. Of course in fusion you do have plasma that you are working with, and if that stuff got out of the reaction chamber... It is like January said: being splashed by the Sun is bad. OTOH, fusion does not require highly toxic materials like uranium or plutonium to work. Plain old hydrogen or deuterium works fine (Deuterium is not radioactive). Deuterium and Tritium is another common fuel source, and Tritium is radioactive. It is used in glow sights on guns to make them glow. That stuff is simply encased in glass, and supposedly that is all that is required to make you safe from radiation from it. That is bupkus compared to the horrifically toxic waste that comes out of a Fission Reactor. So Fusion is definitely what everyone hopes for. It is vastly cleaner, and can actually be turned off a simple as by throwing a light switch. You cannot do that with Fission either. You can just stick more control rods into the reactor to slow down the reaction.
Detroit has no mass transit. Unless you count buses, and cabs. There is no subway, no elevated. There is a People Mover downtown, but that just goes in a small ring around the city core. They just put in a Q line that runs 3 miles down Woodward (3 whole miles, wow!). The only way to get anywhere, like to work, is with a car. To have a job here, you have to own a car. To afford a car, you need a job. It is a vicious circle.
Avery's Nana might have learned about tapping asses from TV, or friends. It's where I heard about it first!
treydog: The Evian was my way of throwing a lampshade on something as proven false as cold fusion. It was also a way to show that meta-inventors like Gadget are not really scientists. The things they do cannot be replicated by someone else in a different lab, or copied on an assembly line. It is their superpowers that make their inventions work, not the laws of nature. So every one has to be built by them by hand. I will have more on that later this chapter, when January meets another meta inventor.
The Nana part was also wonderful to write. For one it showed us another side to Avery's life. It also showed us that life is not all great. It is something that everyone faces sooner or later. As Acadian said, growing old is not for wimps.
I never read the instructions! At least not until I tried everything I could think of and failed first.
Darkness Eternal: I like to start out
in media res, to have some action to immediately grab the reader. I could not find a way to do that well in this story. So I was hoping the crows could do it for me, and create some mysterious implications that would make things interesting.
I deliberately used brand names with January's possessions, so that people could look at them and realize that this stuff is the cheapest of the cheap. Like you said, it is a subtle way of Showing that she is poor, rather than just coming out and blatantly Telling it.
Bird presents!
I love the word 'tenebrous' It is so dark, brooding, and mysterious. I love those rare occasions when I can put it to use. It's got legs!
I still remember the words and the teasing from high school bullies. But I don't remember the bruises from the few fights. I always found that 'stick and stones' things to be completely backward.
Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus The Theme of Alienation in FrankensteinKarategiYoga Crow PoseYoga Scorpion PoseSam BernsteinFitzgerald High SchoolBerenstain BearsBook 2.4 - Stormcrow RecycledHome was empty when she returned. Her parents were still at work, and her brother thankfully in Ann Arbor, as he always was on weekdays. That allowed her to move her Stormcrow armor down from its hiding place under her bed and store it in the fake gas tank bump on the Victory. That still left her the two panniers under the seat for more storage.
She made herself a quick dinner and was off again with her school backpack. Then she headed out to Macomb Community College. She was breathless the entire trip. She had her own car! Well bike, and what a bike! She still could not believe how quiet it was. The engine hum grew a little louder as she accelerated, and the sound of the chain was an aria. But it was nothing compared the earsplitting racket that gasoline-powered motorcycles made. It was mechanical perfection, a crow made wheels.
She had trouble concentrating in class. She could not wait to get back out onto the bike. Besides, the book they were going over was depressing.
Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus brought on far too many parallels to her own life for comfort.
"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel." The professor read from the book. He was young, with a thick mane of raven hair swept back from a bespectacled face. Many of the young female students had a habit of waiting to chat him up after class. January could not see why. He reminded her too much of her father, only twenty years younger. "What do you think Mary Shelley meant when she wrote that?"
"Miss Ward," Mr. Easton said after a long silence in which no one volunteered to speak. His voice had a soft, upper-class English lilt to it. "Perhaps you might enlighten us with your thoughts?"
January blinked, and sat up straight. Had she been daydreaming about her motorcycle?
"Well..." she began, feeling the eyes of everyone in the class boring into her. Lighthammer's lasers had felt less threatening. "When she wrote the book, I think she intended the monster to be some sort of spiritual menace, or at least an allegory for the price of hubris. Victor had tried to take God's place as creator of life. In the very least he strove to a greatness beyond that which nature would allow. As a result he was punished by the horror of - and for - his own creation."
"But that is not what I felt when I read the story," January went on, and tried not to squirm. "I didn't relate to Frankenstein, and feel that he was tempting fate, or attempting to replace God. I identified with the creature: hated and feared by everyone in the world simply because I was born, constantly told I was a monster, rejected by my own maker, trapped in a world which I did not make, and could never change."
"I can imagine that anyone who was not born perfect might feel the same," January continued. "Anyone not born the right color, or the right gender, or the right sexual orientation, or the right anything. Anyone who is different, who isn't 'cool' enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough, or even happy enough might feel that way."
The class was utterly silent afterward. January could swear that she could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Then her teacher began to applaud.
"Outstanding Miss Ward," he exclaimed. "I'm tempted to give you an 'A' just for that. As you said, it is not a warning against Man defying God, or even playing God. By all accounts Mary Shelley was a very irreligious person in fact."
"She was nineteen when she began to write this. She was your age. In it she captures the essence of alienation, isolation, and loneliness. Not just in the monster, but also within Victor Frankenstein himself as well. Remember that both of them are cut off from the world around them. Victor willingly isolates himself with his obsessive work. The monster is alienated because of his appearance. Like you said, he isn't pretty enough. Even his own creator rejects him. People scream when they see him. They attack him. He never knows anything but hatred and fear, in spite of his very real need for love and companionship."
"Everyone has felt rejection and isolation at some time in their lives. This is why we still study this book, two centuries later," her professor went on. "It isn't just to bore students who thought it would be a lot cooler after seeing one of the films! This novel strikes deeply into our emotional cores. She was tapping into the feelings of loneliness and alienation that we can all relate to. That is the real monster in the story, and it is something that we all must face sooner or later. It is just as relevant today as it was in the summer of 1816."
January forgot all about her motorcycle. Could she really do this? Could she write stories about characters that people could relate to on an emotional level? If Mary Shelley could write a story about a man stitched together from the parts of corpses, and she could relate to him, could she do the same?
She was still thinking about that on the ride from the college campus to Adin's House of Pain, a.k.a. the Madison Heights Academy of Martial Arts. She got there early, and used the time to change out of her school clothes and into the black
karategi she wore for teaching class. Still with plenty of time, she found a relatively quiet spot and went through a yoga routine to loosen up, and clear her mind. Time slipped away, and she lost herself in simply breathing and moving.
"You know this isn't a yoga studio," a male voice eventually floated into her ears from somewhere behind her. January smiled, but did not reply. Instead she moved into a crow pose, placing all of her weight on her arms, while her legs floated in the air behind her. She continued through the pose into a handstand. Still upside down, she turned to face the speaker.
"Now you are just showing off Bear," the man said. "Your class is ready to start in a few minutes."
January turned the handstand into an elbow stand, then craned her legs back over her head into a scorpion. Finally she pulled forward, and rolled onto her feet.
"You aren't going to have your dad Sam sue me, are you Mr. Bernstein?" she laughed.
"I wish I was one of those Bernsteins," he smiled. He stood only a few inches taller than her, with curly black hair what was cut short, a hawkish nose, and olive skin. "I wouldn't be here being shown up by a teenager, that's for sure."
"I would never show you up Adin," January said seriously. "You taught me Krav Maga and Muay Thai. Whatever I do, only makes you look better."
"That's what I keep telling myself," he said. "Go on, your future victims await."
January greeted her first class of the evening, which was entirely of children. Looking out over their fresh, young faces, she was reminded of the first time she met Adin. She had just started tenth grade at Fitzgerald High School.
"Now ladies, I'd like you all to say hello to Mr. Bernstein. He's going to be here for a week teaching our self-defense unit."
"One of the Berenstain Bears?" January murmured as the curly haired man stepped out in front of her gym class, to stand beside the coach.
"Yes I am," he smiled, and looked directly at January. She closed her eyes. She would be hearing that for the rest of the year. As if things were not bad enough.
Worse, he remembered her when it came time for individual practice. With the entire class gathered around, he invited his "Bear" to step up and show how she would attack him. He was wearing pads, so January let him have it. She started with a tapper jab with her left hand, rapping his right glove with a light blow to give him a false sense of security. Then she followed with an uppercut loaded with everything her sixteen-year old body could muster.
She could sense his surprise as her fist drove deeply into the pads across his stomach. He held his fists out front to block another attack from that direction. So she continued with a roundhouse kick to his undefended side, then followed with another jab and a cross at his face. The entire time he steadily fell back. Finally she sent a particularly zesty power punch at his head. He effortlessly slipped to the side, caught her in an arm lock, and had her on the mat before she knew what was happening.
"That was outstanding," Bernstein said as he stepped back and helped her up. "Who taught you karate?"
"My mother," January murmured. She was still wondering which end was up as she clambered back to her feet.
"Remind me to stay on her good side," Bernstein said. "Have her bring you to my dojo after school. You have real talent. We can make you better."
After that, no one in high school looked at her quite the same again.