The scientist stands by a busy sidewalk collecting data points.
​
A pair of women walk by. They are on the far side of middle age, trim and fit. Everything about them says with calm dignity that they are professionals on vacation; from their neatly trimmed silver hair, to the crisp seams on their causal clothes. Possibly college professors of some practical art or administrators in some terribly efficient company. 

"You see, you either do it." The first woman says in a crisp and serious tone. "Or you do not do it." 

 The conversations drifts by the scientist  as they pass at a power walk. 

"There is no try." The woman continues as the pass out of hearing.

For a long moment the scientist stares after them wishing to follow and figure out where that conversation came from and where on (or off) Earth is was going...

There is a fine line between researching and wasting time while ignoring your writer's block. Learn it. 

Alliance Coalition Safety and Health Regulation 574.328 Subfile 749 Topic-Inter-species Interactions in Formal Settings

If a human crew member requests any volume/weight/length of substance that is in any reasonable measure explosive/flammable/reactive under the standard range of pressure, reflectivity, and temperature found of Alliance ships you are to determine exactly what they intend to do with it before providing it. The human must provide exact details of their intentions for every measurement or it will not be provided to them.  

Addendum 1: "I have a really cool idea." is not sufficient explanation. 
Addendum 2: The presence of moderately hazardous vermin is never sufficient explanation and should the human in question attempt to use it as such they should be immediately reported to the commanding officer. 
Alteration 1: *under conditions no less that two standard deviations away from the standard range of pressure, reflectivity, and temperature found of Alliance ships and on worlds frequented by Alliance away teams.
Alteration 2: *under conditions where a human can survive for more than five minutes with a standard survival gear set.

***

Addendum 145: It is to be assumed that if there is a human on your crew there will be spontaneous explosions/ignitions/reactions. All ships hosting humans, or likely to host humans, or likely to pass near ships hosting humans will take appropriate cautions. Please see- Alliance Coalition Safety and Health Regulation 1453.245 Subfile 543 Topic-Inter-species Interactions in Formal Settings

Forget what the calendar says.  Today was the first day of summer. It was a perfect day to just lay around and bask in the sun. This author sure did.  The trees are green and the snow is white. . . 
Yeah, the snow is white. Summer fun on the mountain. 

Okay, you know the trope about the chosen one who was sent away as a babe. Placed in the hands of some noble sheepherder to raise to manhood when he would take up his sword and reclaim the kingdom from the usurper/evil brother. But what about a twist?

Quakers! 
​
No seriously. Imagine if you will a kingdom that values war-craft above pretty much all else. There were a lot of them back in the day. Let's say a viking like tribe with elves or some such. The old king dies and leaves two sons, one decidedly older than the other. The older son plots to kill the younger because he knows that the nobles don't like him all that much. So one of the old ministers spirits younger prince away to be summoned again in due time.  So when the time is right the minister sends his minions after the prince hoping to restore the status quo. But when said prince arrives it turns out he has been raised these past two decades by Quakers and is not only a thoroughly devoted member of said church but an aspiring minister. 
Well he is very sorry they have a tyrant and of course he would like to help but there is no way he is picking up the magic sword. Pacifist you see. And making a pact with the otherwordly creature trapped in that bottle? No sir, and isn't that enslavement anyway? And while they are a fine bunch of dwarves, rogues, and eleven archers  no he can't swear an oath of allegiance to the merry band of misfits, it's a religious thing. And he can't do much of anything on the Sabbath Day or course. But hey! The infighting for the past twenty years has left lots of widows and orphans to serve. He'll get right on that! They keep catching him doing un-princely things like washing the feet of old women and helping out with the care of fatherless babies. Then he starts talking about things like how terrible it is that they still have slavery, human or otherwise, and shouldn't the women be a tad more equal, and shouldn't the 'savage' tribes under the other Prince's rule have access to fair treatment under the law? And the minister doesn't like where this is going and begins to wonder a bit if he wasn't worried about the wrong prince after all. 

I was working diligently away at my task, ignoring all who passed by me at a distance, while a distinct symbol hovered over my head. Three would be ranger class munchkin adventures came up to me clutching their bags of holding, out of which stuck various maps and furry companions that they had acquired at the shops that dotted the street. In the background hovered the magic lake, filled with symbols of power where ancient spirits once battled. The three adventurers said nary a word but stared at me with expectant and nervous smiles until I stood up and granted them a quest. 

Apparently I am an NPC when in uniform.
​

 Stasis  noun  unchanging. In a state of complete lack of movement. 

Stasis is one of those mundane words that became a staple of science fiction.
What was your favorite use of stasis in a story? 

Things I Am Working On At The Moment

​Humans are Weird Shorts: “Mother Earth” is trying to KILL us and has been since time immemorial. This has made humans different than the other species out there. It’s not that they don’t like us, we are just a bit terrifying.
The Superman Protocol: So you find a bunch of super-powered infants who are prophesied to grow up and destroy you. What’s a modern country to do? Adopt them out into patriotic, wholesome, stable families of course. Granted they are dragons and not aliens of course but Clark Kent turned out okay.
They Also Serve: They prided themselves on their warrior culture. They were the most aggressive, physically powerful, quickly reaction sentient species known in space. Even the powerful humans considered them terrifying to look at with their claws, giant mouthful of needle sharp teeth, and giant ebony eyes….and the war started. The real war. It nearly broke their culture when they realized that they were all but useless on the front lines, save as scouts who returned to the medical units, broken within a few months. When the humans in the medical wards asked for help with a project the ex-scouts volunteered eagerly. Apparently terrifying looking furry predators who wouldn’t actually eat you had a special power for humans. A special place in their hearts. It was confusing but they could see that it worked.
“You are terrifying, so we will send you in to comfort the wounded soldiers! You don’t mind letting them pet you right?”
Discovery: A prequel to “Dying Embers”. How did the  aliens arrive, how did they get involved with the McCarty clan. Ect.
Possession: They have everything. The population is wealthy beyond imagination. Their are immortal, healthy no matter their vices, offered intellectual challenges  if they so desire. Yes, humanity has achieved utopia. So why is Bob so uneasy? Then he discovers the bodies. Then he runs.
Second Contact:We all know what the Department of Defense will be doing when the aliens show up. But what about the Department of the Interior? What about the one agency that is actually specifically designated to deal with invasive species? *hint they are not happy*

Humans Are Weird – Forgetfulness
“Hey Twitch buddy,” Private Jones called out from the next room, the salutation interrupted by a yawn.
“Yes, friend Jones?” Quilx’tch responded without altering his posture. His secondary legs were tapping lightly across the bottom of his abdomen, triggering the keyboard that was projected there. He might have used the data processing station in the center of the large communal room but that would require running around the edge of the human sized space. The pathways that the humans had built into the walls were very useful to be sure. However Quilx’tch was tired after a long day of observing the base commander engaged in ‘hunting’ and had much data to process. He rather preferred to use his personal device and stay right here in the comfy hammock that had been made with his comfort in mind thank you very much.
“Do you by chance remember what I came in here for?” Jones asked.
Quilx’tch paused in the composition of his observations and slowly turned to face the door that Jones had stepped through. He tried to parse the words. “By chance” indicated that the human thought that the likelihood that the answer would be positive was low. Quilx’tch mulled hard over what they rest of the question could mean.
“Why do you think that I would know what your intentions were by leaving the room?” Quilx’tch asked.
“Eh,” Jones said, “maybe I said something to you…”
“You did not,” Quilx’tch said slowly. “But that is the room that houses the foodstuffs. Perhaps you were hungry and wished to procure food.”
“It’s always about food with you,” the human said with some amusement in his voice. “Oh! Right. Boot grease! Thanks buddy.”
Quilx’tch stared rather blankly at the door as Jones came back in clutching the canister of ‘boot grease’ and proceeded to get to the task of cleaning and waterproofing his foot coverings. Quilx’tch thought to ask why Jones had thanked him when his suggestion had been fruitless but the question of how the human had forgotten his intention between the couch and the door seemed both more pressing and less polite. Finally Quilx’tch shrugged and turned back to his report, making a high priority note to pursue this further. Such a sensitive topic as flaws in mental function might need something more in the way of diplomacy than a mere nutritional anthropologist could offer. 

​ 
Urban Noir - That Company
 
There is a company that takes pictures of roads. Most roads. They have fancy cars with cameras on top. They have fancy computers in the cars. And little black instruction manuals in very bottom of the glove compartment. The drivers have fancy degrees and are all quite clever. They have to be. This company is was dedicated to science. Not that it says so in the charter. That is just how they are. It is a natural product of how they select their employees. The old aunt with a trunk full of genuine juju charms would be welcome if she applied of course (as long as she had that degree) but she doesn’t, because they are were not that kind of company. They are shiny, chrome and white. They are sterile, grays and black. They are modern, sharp, cutting edge. Of course somebody got cut.
Every new driver is instructed on what kind of charm to hand on the rearview mirror. The instructions are tailored to each region. Some laugh, some think it quaint whimsy, most obey. The company refuses to insure those who don’t.  Not that it is wise to look in the mirror all the time. They know that now. The instruction manual, the one that no one quite seems to know who printed or researched. It had instructions about that.
The first time they were warned. They didn’t listen. Science after all. A horrible accident they said. The CEO herself came out to pat the shoulders of the driver’s girlfriend. No we don’t know how he ended up in that swamp. But not to worry, it is a car that takes pictures after all. Our techs will just review the pictures and tell you everything. Three techs went mad. Two died mysteriously. The pictures were scrubbed from the database and the server they were stored on was lost in a fire that the investigators ruled arson.
It is bad business practice, very bad business practice for your employees to keep dying. Or worse things as some folk say. The first driver who didn’t come back from that one swampy road they were warned about was found. Mostly. The second driver did come back. That was the day “don’t be evil” was added to the company rules. Insiders say it is a more practical rule than outsiders think, and then they grin falsely and laugh hollowly at the joke.
There were other incidences of course. The pictures of the moth wings dipping down over the sides of the car came with screaming. The strange hoof-prints around the car that was found empty with the camera wrenched off in Jersey. The driver that was found hunched over a car, wrinkled and aged decades in the few hours that he’d been driving on a back road outside of Dublin. And there were always warnings. They will always give at least the illusion of fair play, so pay attention. Bad business.
There is a company that takes pictures of roads. Their employees are very, very well trained. Their cameras are cutting edge. If there are roads, sections of roads, particular houses, that don’t appear in their pictures. Well, the employees are very well trained, and it is bad business for employees to end up anything other than fully alive.