There's a trick to the Graceful Exit. It begins with the vision to
recognize when a job, a life stage, a relationship is over -- and to let
go. It means leaving what's over without denying its validity or its
past importance in our lives. It involves a sense of future, a belief
that every exit line is an entry, that we are moving on, rather than out.
The trick of retiring well may be the trick of living well. It's hard to
recognize that life isn't a holding action, but a process. It's hard to
learn that we don't leave the best parts of ourselves behind, back in the
dugout or the office. We own what we learned back there. The experiences
and the growth are grafted onto our lives. And when we exit, we can take
ourselves along -- quite gracefully.
-- Ellen Goodman
For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life.
-- Albert Camus
Thank you fortune-mod (1:1.99.1-3.1ubuntu4-1mint1)!
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
I has a happy.
To fully understand the title, I refer you to this artifact of our meme-driven culture.
See, I'm miserable a fair amount. Part of it is that the state of grousing is miserable. I admit that. ;)
Today was a good day. Its epilogue may not be the best (homework, programming, test, reading, and hip), but three things stand out:
I has a happy.
See, I'm miserable a fair amount. Part of it is that the state of grousing is miserable. I admit that. ;)
Today was a good day. Its epilogue may not be the best (homework, programming, test, reading, and hip), but three things stand out:
- I got a letter from Salt Lake.
- I saw a friend of mine grinning ear to ear.
- I got to go play with electronicae anciens in my favorite job in the privileged accessways of the upper lofts of the Eyring Science Center.
I has a happy.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The commandos knocked out the last of his men on the bridge while three took him and held him at gunpoint. Artemis strode onto the bridge, surveying his mens' work.
"Good work men. Jimmy, Rob, start overriding the ship's systems." The commander nodded towards one of the consoles and two of the soldiers starting opening panels and splicing wires.
This will turn out OK, the admiral thought, reeling in shock. All of the ships already have their orders; we can't possibly lose.
"How long until their encryption is cracked?" The dark captain paced, watching the two men work.
"At most five minutes, sir!" Rob barked.
That's not right...the codemasters set it up themselves! How could--
Sure enough, three minutes later the fleet's last commands were scrolling past on the main screen.
"What the--" the captain exclaimed, biting it off as his mind began to race. The commands on the display were his alright, but they weren't what he thought he had sent. Where had he gone wrong? Which strategy was he using? It looked like he had split off a flank under one strategy, then given the rest of the fleet separate orders after the enemy's fleet had moved to parry the manoeuvre. Why hadn't he called them back? What had been going through is head? How had he forgotten them?
"Uhhhh... You, you... You can't do anything from here. Any transmission will alert my men to the takover here!" The admiral was spluttering, hoping to shake his captor's confidence.
"Oh, we don't need to tell anyone what has happened here. Those that know," he gestured towards the enemy flagship on the holographic display, "are confident in my ability to do what I say I will. They are also confident in their fleet's hidden strength. I simply want you to watch as your fleet is eaten alive."
The admiral watched in horror as the enemy armada skillfully matched and capitalized on every awkward move he himself had ordered. Thinking of the excellent men, the fine training, the friendships he had built among them, he groaned. "A straightforward death would be much simpler..."
"No, my friend." Artemis grinned, baring every shred of the malevolence he exuded. "You live."
"Good work men. Jimmy, Rob, start overriding the ship's systems." The commander nodded towards one of the consoles and two of the soldiers starting opening panels and splicing wires.
This will turn out OK, the admiral thought, reeling in shock. All of the ships already have their orders; we can't possibly lose.
"How long until their encryption is cracked?" The dark captain paced, watching the two men work.
"At most five minutes, sir!" Rob barked.
That's not right...the codemasters set it up themselves! How could--
Sure enough, three minutes later the fleet's last commands were scrolling past on the main screen.
"What the--" the captain exclaimed, biting it off as his mind began to race. The commands on the display were his alright, but they weren't what he thought he had sent. Where had he gone wrong? Which strategy was he using? It looked like he had split off a flank under one strategy, then given the rest of the fleet separate orders after the enemy's fleet had moved to parry the manoeuvre. Why hadn't he called them back? What had been going through is head? How had he forgotten them?
"Uhhhh... You, you... You can't do anything from here. Any transmission will alert my men to the takover here!" The admiral was spluttering, hoping to shake his captor's confidence.
"Oh, we don't need to tell anyone what has happened here. Those that know," he gestured towards the enemy flagship on the holographic display, "are confident in my ability to do what I say I will. They are also confident in their fleet's hidden strength. I simply want you to watch as your fleet is eaten alive."
The admiral watched in horror as the enemy armada skillfully matched and capitalized on every awkward move he himself had ordered. Thinking of the excellent men, the fine training, the friendships he had built among them, he groaned. "A straightforward death would be much simpler..."
"No, my friend." Artemis grinned, baring every shred of the malevolence he exuded. "You live."
Monday, July 25, 2011
DLT
Sequel to Waldoes
The knot in his stomach tightened.
He decontaminated and cycled the airlock, then inserted the DeLaurent Teleresonator in the microwave-sized cavity and recycled the air pressure.
One must be careful, he thought, so that the intense radiation in the chamber didn't escape and so that the particulates in the shielded cabin didn't enter the chamber and cause problems. Not too hard, especially if done right, but a royal pain if done wrong.
Knowing he'd be using this tool he had made sure to get a full night's sleep and to go over his basic quantum electrodynamics one more time with the other crew members, some of whom he'd kept up until odd hours in the past worrying over the problem. He pressed his face to the stereoscopic viewplate and once more inserted his hands into the waldoes' control mechanisms.
He had prepared, sure, but he was nervous. Every probability manifold he'd worked out on paper had indicated that this tool would either precipitate a proper runaway reaction or simply kill the fissile nature of the material. Still, he needed to know, so he proceeded. Besides, his friend told him, Wasn't it a Warshawski manifold? Wasn't there a whole range of non-extreme outcomes?
Arranging the reactor elements on the processing plate of the tool in the simplest, most straightforward arrangement he had come up with, he plugged it in and began to feed it power.
The Geiger counter started clacking more intensely, but from the other readings the baryonic fields weren't accelerating, so he continued.
The glow sharpened, then wavered, then went fuzzy, then turned a hot pink. It was an intense kind of light, with a hardness that suggested--no--
Relaxing the waldoes he pulled the textbook he had been poring over back off the shelf and flipped to the resonance section. Sure enough, there it was...but the only way that could be working at all was that--really? No...his small assembly was actually picking up the primary engine's resonance and...amplifying a harmonic? But, that--impossible--noone had seen it coming...perhaps one line of reasoning had suggested it, sure, but it was ridiculous, a tiny chance, not even in the Hausdorff domain, requiring mathematical gyrations fit for the circus--how--?
The dial said it all. Engine efficiency was up 8%--not perfect, but better, and as he ramped the Resonator's power back down he sat back in shock.
The captain would be happy.
The knot in his stomach tightened.
He decontaminated and cycled the airlock, then inserted the DeLaurent Teleresonator in the microwave-sized cavity and recycled the air pressure.
One must be careful, he thought, so that the intense radiation in the chamber didn't escape and so that the particulates in the shielded cabin didn't enter the chamber and cause problems. Not too hard, especially if done right, but a royal pain if done wrong.
Knowing he'd be using this tool he had made sure to get a full night's sleep and to go over his basic quantum electrodynamics one more time with the other crew members, some of whom he'd kept up until odd hours in the past worrying over the problem. He pressed his face to the stereoscopic viewplate and once more inserted his hands into the waldoes' control mechanisms.
He had prepared, sure, but he was nervous. Every probability manifold he'd worked out on paper had indicated that this tool would either precipitate a proper runaway reaction or simply kill the fissile nature of the material. Still, he needed to know, so he proceeded. Besides, his friend told him, Wasn't it a Warshawski manifold? Wasn't there a whole range of non-extreme outcomes?
Arranging the reactor elements on the processing plate of the tool in the simplest, most straightforward arrangement he had come up with, he plugged it in and began to feed it power.
The Geiger counter started clacking more intensely, but from the other readings the baryonic fields weren't accelerating, so he continued.
The glow sharpened, then wavered, then went fuzzy, then turned a hot pink. It was an intense kind of light, with a hardness that suggested--no--
Relaxing the waldoes he pulled the textbook he had been poring over back off the shelf and flipped to the resonance section. Sure enough, there it was...but the only way that could be working at all was that--really? No...his small assembly was actually picking up the primary engine's resonance and...amplifying a harmonic? But, that--impossible--noone had seen it coming...perhaps one line of reasoning had suggested it, sure, but it was ridiculous, a tiny chance, not even in the Hausdorff domain, requiring mathematical gyrations fit for the circus--how--?
The dial said it all. Engine efficiency was up 8%--not perfect, but better, and as he ramped the Resonator's power back down he sat back in shock.
The captain would be happy.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Waldoes
The engineer pressed his tired eyes against the lenses once more. Inserting his hands into the waldoes' grips he recommenced the rhythmic click-clacking of the cubes of metal in the fuel service area. Their soft, bluish glow reminded him every second of just how dangerous these kinds of operations could be, and he was glad of the layers of indirection the chamber provided.
He had been trying different assembly methods and patterns. Keeping an interstellar drive running was usually uneventful--once cruising speed was reached, just replace a fuel rod now and again and the design took care of itself.
This time was different. The engine had been assembled with one particular pattern of nuclear resonance in mind, with a dozen of the best engineers and a colossal computer working out the simulations, yet a shift in the local values of a few of the universal constants had left it working at less than peak efficiency. They had even planned for this, and only a small change was required to retune the old resonance, but after months in space its vast emptiness was gnawing at him, even with the FTL newscasts. So, without the resources of a shipyard, he was left to mere experimentation, and as he shifted the blocks around he wondered. With this tamper there, this fuel pellet there, a neutron reflector there--almost, but not quite.
Every once in a while his mind would wander and he would visualize his handiwork going critical and taking the ship with it...not pleasant. That was why he hadn't slept well in days--he would wake up in the middle of the night worrying about how he had left the core elements, or wondering if a certain pattern of construction could work.
Ultimately it would either work or it wouldn't, sure, but it was such a complex system...
He had been trying different assembly methods and patterns. Keeping an interstellar drive running was usually uneventful--once cruising speed was reached, just replace a fuel rod now and again and the design took care of itself.
This time was different. The engine had been assembled with one particular pattern of nuclear resonance in mind, with a dozen of the best engineers and a colossal computer working out the simulations, yet a shift in the local values of a few of the universal constants had left it working at less than peak efficiency. They had even planned for this, and only a small change was required to retune the old resonance, but after months in space its vast emptiness was gnawing at him, even with the FTL newscasts. So, without the resources of a shipyard, he was left to mere experimentation, and as he shifted the blocks around he wondered. With this tamper there, this fuel pellet there, a neutron reflector there--almost, but not quite.
Every once in a while his mind would wander and he would visualize his handiwork going critical and taking the ship with it...not pleasant. That was why he hadn't slept well in days--he would wake up in the middle of the night worrying about how he had left the core elements, or wondering if a certain pattern of construction could work.
Ultimately it would either work or it wouldn't, sure, but it was such a complex system...
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Direction
The navigator was examining the fine inscriptions etched into the surface of the compass in the control room bulkhead. He had had it installed in a more prosperous time, when the captain had advocated the acquisition of more expensive and more capable equipment.
Since then a LOT had happened. For one, the user manual had been lost--after all, who needs the manual to use a compass?
It wasn't a digital model. It had a digital interface--as everything nowadays did--but part of the draw of this model had been the ability to watch the spindle move. This had saved them more than once, most notable in the antimatter reefs where it had seemed to anticipate the shifts in the wispy, lethal structures.
The writing was intriguing.
NON-DETERMINISTIC QUANTUM-TEMPORAL REFLECTION SENSOR
5V 300mA DC DO NOT DEGAUSS
He tapped on the glass again. There were two spindles.
Many of my readers know I like to write and publish vignettes like this one. As usual, there may or may not be a metaphor underneath; however, in this case, I couldn't let go of that ending to do the metaphor justice. It was just too flavorful. For this reason, I've decided to publish that original, and then provide a more finished and complete version.
The navigator was examining the fine text etched into the housing of the compass in the bridge bulkhead. It had been installed in a more prosperous time, when the captain could afford to advocate the acquisition of more expensive and more capable equipment.
That had been years ago. During the renovations and crew changes since then, there had been a complete loss of all but the most essential (read: regulatory compliance) documentation, including user's manuals. Besides, who needs a manual to use a simple compass?
He suspected part of the allure of this model had been the free-floating spindle visible under the glass. Sure, it had a digital interface the ship's computer could plug into, but just watching the spindle swing as the ship came about was mesmerizing. It was a little quirky--while navigating the Behrer Antimatter Reefs it had seemed to anticipate the shifts in the wispy, lethal structures and guided them through safely.
The writing was intriguing:
GNOLAUM INSTRUMENTATION CORP.
NON-DETERMINISTIC QUASITEMPORAL QUANTUM REFLECTOMETER
5V 100mA DC DO NOT DEGAUSS
SEE MANUAL FOR CALIBRATION INSTRUCTIONS
He tapped the glass again. There were two spindles.
He remembered, now, that there had been ghost spindles while navigating the reefs. At the time he had just chalked them up to his fatigue. Perhaps the other instruments could provide disambiguating information...
Since then a LOT had happened. For one, the user manual had been lost--after all, who needs the manual to use a compass?
It wasn't a digital model. It had a digital interface--as everything nowadays did--but part of the draw of this model had been the ability to watch the spindle move. This had saved them more than once, most notable in the antimatter reefs where it had seemed to anticipate the shifts in the wispy, lethal structures.
The writing was intriguing.
NON-DETERMINISTIC QUANTUM-TEMPORAL REFLECTION SENSOR
5V 300mA DC DO NOT DEGAUSS
He tapped on the glass again. There were two spindles.
Many of my readers know I like to write and publish vignettes like this one. As usual, there may or may not be a metaphor underneath; however, in this case, I couldn't let go of that ending to do the metaphor justice. It was just too flavorful. For this reason, I've decided to publish that original, and then provide a more finished and complete version.
The navigator was examining the fine text etched into the housing of the compass in the bridge bulkhead. It had been installed in a more prosperous time, when the captain could afford to advocate the acquisition of more expensive and more capable equipment.
That had been years ago. During the renovations and crew changes since then, there had been a complete loss of all but the most essential (read: regulatory compliance) documentation, including user's manuals. Besides, who needs a manual to use a simple compass?
He suspected part of the allure of this model had been the free-floating spindle visible under the glass. Sure, it had a digital interface the ship's computer could plug into, but just watching the spindle swing as the ship came about was mesmerizing. It was a little quirky--while navigating the Behrer Antimatter Reefs it had seemed to anticipate the shifts in the wispy, lethal structures and guided them through safely.
The writing was intriguing:
GNOLAUM INSTRUMENTATION CORP.
NON-DETERMINISTIC QUASITEMPORAL QUANTUM REFLECTOMETER
5V 100mA DC DO NOT DEGAUSS
SEE MANUAL FOR CALIBRATION INSTRUCTIONS
He tapped the glass again. There were two spindles.
He remembered, now, that there had been ghost spindles while navigating the reefs. At the time he had just chalked them up to his fatigue. Perhaps the other instruments could provide disambiguating information...
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
It Takes All Kinds
The desk light clicked and its light knifed through the darkness, illuminating the study desk in the navigator's quarters.
His hands smoothed the large sheet of paper sitting there. The creases were still sharp from the years since he'd even considered extricating it from its storage spot.
"Hertzsprung-Russell Diagram (C) 68-74 Interstellar Starlines Corp.," a line of text along the bottom declared. Splayed across the page were points representing every star that had ever been visited by humans, with tentative lines dividing them into categories. He traced these slowly with his finger, noting that his career had only taken him to a few of the sections on it.
He glanced up at the ship status panel he had rigged up some time ago. The ship was in fine health, and its bearing was holding steady at nine-zero-oh-two-two. At this rate it would reach its destination in less than six months. He frowned. The refit they were scheduled for there in the Vega system was a significant one, assuming nothing drastic happened on the way, and he knew it was a good system to be registered in. Still, he wanted to know.
Back to Hertzsprung-Russell. It would require some research.
His hands smoothed the large sheet of paper sitting there. The creases were still sharp from the years since he'd even considered extricating it from its storage spot.
"Hertzsprung-Russell Diagram (C) 68-74 Interstellar Starlines Corp.," a line of text along the bottom declared. Splayed across the page were points representing every star that had ever been visited by humans, with tentative lines dividing them into categories. He traced these slowly with his finger, noting that his career had only taken him to a few of the sections on it.
He glanced up at the ship status panel he had rigged up some time ago. The ship was in fine health, and its bearing was holding steady at nine-zero-oh-two-two. At this rate it would reach its destination in less than six months. He frowned. The refit they were scheduled for there in the Vega system was a significant one, assuming nothing drastic happened on the way, and he knew it was a good system to be registered in. Still, he wanted to know.
Back to Hertzsprung-Russell. It would require some research.
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