{"id":2037,"date":"2012-07-24T00:03:06","date_gmt":"2012-07-24T07:03:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/?p=2037"},"modified":"2012-07-23T21:41:04","modified_gmt":"2012-07-24T04:41:04","slug":"bent-anvil","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/2012\/07\/24\/bent-anvil\/","title":{"rendered":"Bent Anvil"},"content":{"rendered":"

The first couple of pages of one of my science fiction novels that I’m currently doing the rewrites on:<\/em><\/p>\n

What the hammer? What the chain,
\nIn what furnace was thy brain?
\nWhat the anvil? What dread grasp,
\nDare its deadly terrors clasp? \u2014from The Tyger, by William Blake<\/p>\n

Chapter One<\/strong><\/p>\n

\tThe explosion reminded Victor Hanson of a fire cracker going off, until the concussion wave blew out his living room window and the shaking ground knocked him off his feet and tumbled the books out of his bookshelf. <\/p>\n

\t\u201cSon of a bitch,\u201d Victor murmured as he pulled himself back to his feet, thankful that he hadn\u2019t been standing in front of his living room window. He stared at the shards of glass sticking up like deadly grass blades from his carpet. The house next door was lying in bits scattered across his lawn and the street. Black smoke and flames roared skywards, blocking the sun. <\/p>\n

\tVictor shook his head. Why was it so hard for Stu to figure out that he shouldn\u2019t replace his own damn batteries? Three times at least, in as many years. It was getting to be a habit for him. Of course, Stu couldn\u2019t really remember any of the incidents, given that they had killed him each and every time.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

\t\u201cLook, some people maybe<\/em> can replace their own. But every time you try, you wind up knocking down the neighborhood and destroying your house.\u201d Victor had just met Stu outside the local Four Winds facility and Stu still had that shaky, confused wobble that people always had when they had just been reassembled. Stu was wearing his favorite red and yellow Trojan t-shirt and his red shorts. His Nikes looked scuffed. \u201cAnd why\u2019d you backup looking like that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\tStu shrugged. \u201cIt was late and I knew it had been awhile, so\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cWhat day is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cThey told me inside. I know it\u2019s Saturday and that it\u2019s two in the afternoon. \u201cI\u2019m not an idiot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\tVictor bit his lip to keep from disagreeing out loud. \u201cSo what day did you think<\/em> it was?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cI knew I didn\u2019t know as soon as I woke up and saw where I was.\u201d<\/p>\n

\tVictor lifted his left eyebrow. As a cop, he found it a handy technique; it tended to intimidate people. Stu didn\u2019t seem to notice. <\/p>\n

\t\u201cOkay, so it\u2019s been a month since my last backup.\u201d Stu\u2019s eyes dropped toward his shoes.<\/p>\n

\tVictor exploded. \u201cYou\u2019re supposed to do it at least every day! God, how could you go a whole month? Most people set themselves to backup on an hourly basis; hell, I know some paranoids do it every ten minutes.\u201d Or, every five minutes. Like me.<\/em> \u201cDepends on what\u2019s going on, of course. Some people, when they\u2019re driving, set it to once a minute. It\u2019s not like you can\u2019t afford it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\tThe front door of Four Winds swung open and shut, puffing air conditioned coolness over them. Victor glanced over and saw Stu\u2019s wife Beth. She was wearing black shorts and a mostly white t-shirt. She just stalked away, not even bothering to glance at her husband. Stu watched her hop into a waiting yellow taxi.<\/p>\n

\t\u201cShe\u2019s pissed off, isn\u2019t she?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cYou think? And why wouldn\u2019t she be? You didn\u2019t just kill yourself this time, you know. That\u2019s bad enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cThe neighbors?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cBlew off half of the Baumgartner\u2019s living room. Took off half of Mrs. Baumgartner\u2019s leg, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cOh, geeze,\u201d he held his head in both hands and dropped his eyes toward his shoes.<\/p>\n

\t\u201cYou have any idea the trauma involved in something like that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cWell\u2014\u201d he began, dropping his hands and glancing back at Four Winds.<\/p>\n

\t\u201cI guess you do\u2014more than most. But still. It\u2019s damn inconvenient. She was ten minutes late for her gardening meeting and you know how she hates that. Plus she hadn\u2019t backed up her garden in a week, so now it doesn\u2019t match the pictures she\u2019d just posted for the meeting. That really<\/em> bugged her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cI\u2019ll apologize when I get home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cYou\u2019d damn well better. Blew out my windows, you know. Knocked down a bunch of books.\u201d<\/p>\n

\tStu looked back at his shoes. <\/p>\n

\u201cI put the books back by hand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\tStu glanced up, puzzled. \u201cWhy\u2019d you do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cIt wasn\u2019t many books. Didn\u2019t seem worth it. Oh\u2014and I had to replace the carpet. Glass shards in it. Scared I\u2019d step on something in my bare feet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cSo you didn\u2019t do a whole house revert?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cI don\u2019t like to do that unless I really have to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cLike the last time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\tVictor rolled his eyes. \u201cNeeded a new arm then, too. Any idea how much losing a limb hurts? You should get Mrs. Baumgartner a new rose bush or something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cShe likes cheese cake. I\u2019ll get her a cherry cheese cake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cMaybe you\u2019ll get her to speak to you again. In a week. Or two.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cYeah.\u201d Stu nodded. \u201cI don\u2019t know what I\u2019m going to do about Beth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cWhen did she last backup?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cShe\u2019s on a schedule. I think. Maybe. She does it every day.\u201d He sucked in a deep breath. \u201cOr is it every week?\u201d He put his head back in his hands.<\/p>\n

\t\u201cSo maybe she didn\u2019t lose much. If you\u2019re lucky, which seems improbable all things considered. But you<\/em> still lost a whole month.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cBeth is going to be so<\/em> pissed.\u201d He let his shoulders droop; his arms dropped back to his side.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll be missing a month\u2019s worth of TV shows that you\u2019ll have to re-watch. And then there\u2019s that new Bond flick you saw Friday\u2014you know the one you\u2019ve been going on about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cAh, geeze; she\u2019ll be so pissed if she didn’t backup after we watched that.\u201d He closed his eyes. \u201cShe\u2019ll insist on going again. I know her. God, do I know her. I\u2019m so dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at the moment. You\u2019re much better now.\u201d Victor grinned.<\/p>\n

Stu did not return the expression. Instead, Stu looked up at the sky, as if imploring the God Victor suspected the man didn\u2019t believe in. \u201cAll that money. Gone. For nothing. And that fancy dinner too. With my luck, she won\u2019t remember any of it and so she\u2019ll want I do it all over again. Just one more flipping thing.\u201d His nostrils flared. \u201cA whole month! I\u2019ve lost a whole damn month.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cSo get yourself on a better schedule.\u201d <\/p>\n

Of course, Victor had told Stu this before. Like the last time he\u2019d blown himself up. And the time before that. Always meant to get around to it, he claimed. But then, very obviously, nothing had changed. Nothing ever changed for Stu. And yet probably most people were just like him. Who ever really expects to die?<\/p>\n

\t\u201cCome on, Stu. Let\u2019s get you home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cIt\u2019s already back together, right? My house, I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cYeah, just like before you blew it to smithereens. When was the last time you backed it up, anyhow?\u201d<\/p>\n

\t\u201cOh God\u2014\u201d he closed his eyes and once again put his head in his hands. <\/p>\n

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The first couple of pages of one of my science fiction novels that I’m currently doing the rewrites on: What the hammer? What the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp, Dare its deadly … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_s2mail":"yes"},"categories":[21],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2037"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2037"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2037\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2039,"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2037\/revisions\/2039"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2037"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2037"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2037"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}