I’ve just updated Blood Trade, my vampire novel. It’s a horror story set in an alternate Las Vegas, one falling apart from the combined influences of vampires and the mob. It features some of my favorite characters, from a goth model/detective to a dirty cop to a vampire going “vegetarian.” I would really appreciate it if you would give it a try, and so until January 4, 2021, you can get the ebook version from Smashwords for free. Just use the coupon code: CE26Q at checkout. Thanks for your support.
For those of you who do not know, I have a Patreon page at www.patreon.com/wesleyallison where some very wonderful readers have been supporting my writing efforts. If you are unfamiliar with how Patreon works, individuals donate money on a monthly basis to creative types (boy, that sounds narcissistic when talking about one’s self), and they receive small benefits from doing so. The more that is donated, the more or bigger the benefits.
I have recently revised the various levels of patronage and added a few new levels. Now I need to offer some additional benefits (rewards). If you have some ideas about what those could be, whether you are a patron or not, let me know in the comments section below.
And, thanks to all of your for your support. Whether as a patron or as a reader, your support means more than you know.
Astrid and her father gathered their dishes and took them to the kitchen, placing them in the dishwasher. Then they walked into the family room. Dr. Maxxim started to sit down, but Astrid waved for him to follow and led the way into the living room beyond.
“Now would be the time to talk,” she said.
They stood in the center of the formal living room that was almost never used. Astrid pointed to the doorway that led from the room, down a long hallway. That hallway was lined with small rooms that had once been servants’ quarters.
“So, what’s the deal?”
“Have you ever noticed how strange this house is?” asked her father, seemingly taking them onto a different subject.
“Um, sure. Especially since there are big parts of it we don’t even use.”
“This house was old when my grandfather bought it,” explained Dr. Maxxim. “I don’t know what it was exactly, but he liked it and bought it. It was all the way back in New York State then. When he moved out west, he brought it with him. He had it taken apart and reassembled right here. Then over the years, he began modifying it, changing it around. My father made a few changes. Both of them were happy to have a house full of servants taking care of them. I never felt comfortable with all these people living among us, and us acting like they were invisible.”
“Mom’s right, Dad. People don’t act that way anymore.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “You’ve looked in those rooms before?”
“Sure. They’re mostly empty, but a few of them have some furniture in them. They’re not too bad. Aren’t they about the same size as my bedroom?”
“No. Your bedroom is about fifty percent larger. And these rooms are only as large as they are, because they were intended to hold eight household staff in each one. They had their own dining room and common room at one time. They were right here, as a matter of fact. Your mother and I turned it into the living room. When we first got married, we went on a building spree, you might say.”
“You created my bedroom by dividing up a larger room, right?”
“Yes. We did the same thing with our bedroom. We added bathrooms. We put in the pool. We had the kitchen remodeled and created the breakfast room. Then we sort of ran out of gas. At least I did. We just closed off the rest of the house that we didn’t use.”
“Have you thought about doing anything else?”
“I guess I just figured that I would leave it for you when you grow up,” he said.
“Well, I have a lot of ideas,” said Astrid. “Some of them, I think we need to start on right now.”
This recording was originally intended for my Patreon supporters, but that site made it far too difficult to post a video, so here it is. I hope you enjoy the rather poor reading of the first chapter of my currently in-progress book.
Wow!
It’s been three weeks since I last updated this page. It’s been a crazy month. Getting ready to teach virtual classes, and then to start teaching them has been crazy. But then, this has been a crazy year, hasn’t it. Who could have ever imagined something like this? Isaac Asimov? Arthur C. Clarke? Probably.
I’ve been plunking away at a couple of story ideas, only one of which will result in a publication this year– hopefully soon. I hope to have the next Astrid Maxxim book out by the end of the year, which will make three books for 2020. The last time I published three books in a year was 2016.
Next year, I will be devoted to getting His Robot Wife: Extreme Patience completed before anything else. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get some new stuff done after that.
In the meantime, stay safe and stay healthy. And thanks for your support.
Just after five, she pulled her phone from her pocket and called Mrs. Purcell, the office manager.
“What do you need, Astrid?”
“Can you get both Mr. Gortner and Mrs. Trent from Production for me?”
Mr. Gortner was first on the line.
“Good afternoon, Astrid,” he said. “You caught me just as I was leaving.”
“Well, I don’t want to keep you; just one quick question. Do we have a supply of hydrophobic sand on site?”
“I’m sure we have some. How much do you need?”
“I’d like about a hundred pounds, if possible.”
“I’ll have it sent over first thing tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mr. Gortner,” said Astrid. “And how is the battery facility coming?”
He laughed. “Don’t be too impatient, Astrid. We won’t even break ground till next month.”
Seconds after Astrid said goodbye to Mr. Gortner, Mrs. Trent was on the line.
“How is the hoverbike production going?” asked Astrid.
“We’re producing 200 a day,” replied Mrs. Trent. “Nobody seems to know how many we need though. Some of our accounts people are predicting an initial order of 10,000. But I think it could be ten times that many.”
“Well, I have a couple of other things that I need,” said the girl inventor. “I want to build a second undersea dome, with thicker Astridium panels. I’ll send you the measurements tomorrow. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you could send me a hundred pounds of ground Astridium.”
“I can send you all the ground material you want,” said Mrs. Trent. “I can just grind up some parts that aren’t up to spec. As for building another dome, Astrid, I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”
“What?”
“We don’t have the capacity or the man-hours. I’ve got to finish this run of hoverbikes, and then your father has three different projects waiting in the queue. His work takes priority.”
“Oh, um, all right,” said Astrid.
She ended the call and stuffed the phone back into her pocket.
“Are you still here, Astrid?” Mr. Brown stepped into the lab.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“What’s the matter, Astrid?”
“Um, nothing. Why?”
“You look like somebody just shot your dog.”
Astrid laughed. “Nothing that horrible. I’m just not used to not getting my way. I guess I’m spoiled.”
“You are the least spoiled girl I know,” he replied smiling. “What are you not getting your way about?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Are you working on something new?” he asked.
“I was thinking about how hydrophobic sand was originally designed to clean up oil spills, and I thought that ground Astridium might work equally well. And since we might have extra after making hoverbikes, it could be repurposed to help the environment.”
Early Monday morning, the four young Americans arrived at the airport. Their plane was awaiting them, all serviced, fueled, and ready to go. The Maxxim Starcraft 170 was a sharp, if unusual looking aircraft. Designed by Astrid’s father Dr. Roger Maxxim, the 47 foot long Starcraft featured a long pointy fuselage with a small canard wing just behind the nose. The main wing was at the back of the aircraft, and carried twin turboprop engines, with the propellers facing rearward. These were known as push-props. The cabin, which could accommodate up to nine passengers, was more than spacious with just Astrid and Denise and their carryon luggage. Dennis and Toby took their places as pilot and co-pilot respectively.
An hour later, the Starcraft was soaring westward over the Atlantic Ocean. Though no jet, its cruising speed of 320 mph would carry them back in Maxxim City in under ten hours, even allowing for a short refueling stop in Atlanta. The girls carried on a spirited game of Toad Town using their MX-360 PDAs.
“Do you want to go sit up front?” asked Dennis, walking back down the aisle. “I’ve got to make a pit stop. Toby’s got the stick.”
“I told you that you shouldn’t drink so much orange juice right before takeoff,” said Denise.
Her brother ignored her and continued on toward the diminutive restroom at the rear of the cabin. Astrid unbuckled her seatbelt, walked to the cockpit, and carefully climbed into the pilot’s seat, strapping herself in.
“This is cool,” she said.
“I know,” said Toby. “By the time we get home, I’ll have enough hours to pilot one of these babies myself.”
“Good, you can fly us to Hawaii in two weeks.”
“I don’t know if I can go,” he said. “I haven’t asked yet. I know my dad will be fine with it, but Aunt Gerta thinks that I spend too much time away from home.”
Toby’s great aunt had come to live with him two years before, when his mother had passed away after a long struggle with cancer.
“What the heck is that?” cried Toby, as a loud beeping rang out in the small compartment.
“It’s the SAR,” said Astrid. “Somebody’s fired a missile at us.”
She pointed to the round radarscope at the bottom center of the control panel. It showed a blip coming up toward them from behind.
“What do I do?” asked Toby.
“I’ve got it,” said Astrid.
Taking the control stick in her left hand, she grabbed the twin throttles with her right, shoving them both forward. The engines screamed as they pushed the aircraft toward its maximum speed of 400 mph. Astrid didn’t take her eyes off the radar. The blip, indicating the missile, came closer and closer toward the center of the amber screen. At the last moment, she jerked left on the stick as she stamped down of the corresponding foot pedal and the plane rolled over onto its back. She and Toby watched as a missile shot past them, below the plane, and from their upside down perspective, just above their heads. It flew right through the space where the Starcraft had been.
Astrid flipped the plane back right side up and banked right in a climbing turn.
“What in the world is going on!” shouted Dennis behind them. “Are you trying to crash us?”
“There was a missile,” said Toby. “She just saved all of our lives.”
“Now let’s see if we can find out who shot at us,” said Astrid.
They spotted several recently made contrails high up in the sky, but no other aircraft in their vicinity.
“I’m sure that was an air-to-air missile,” said the girl inventor. “Our attacker must have high-tailed it as soon as they fired.”
“Just a couple of weeks ago they were trying to kidnap you,” said Toby. “Now they’re trying to kill you.”
“Yeah,” mused Astrid. “I wish they would hurry up and make up their mind.”
They went up a hill and the bicycle built for two shot ahead. Austin caught up with Astrid and rode beside her.
“My grandma told me this story all about how your dad built a motorcycle and rode all over the country on it,” he said.
“Really? I wonder why he said I wasn’t allowed to have one then?”
“Maybe you could invent something even better, like a flying bicycle.”
“That’s a really good idea, Austin.”
Astrid’s mind was spinning ideas the rest of the ride, and when everyone was done, Astrid had Austin bring the bike he had been riding up to her lab. Then she got on the phone.
“Mrs. Purcell?”
“Yes, Astrid.”
“Do you have any idea how many hoverdisks my dad has?”
“He had at least fifteen made up,” she replied, “though a few of them were broken in testing.”
“Could you have someone send a couple up to my lab please?”
“I’ll get them right over, Astrid. Bye.”
By the time a lab technician arrived with a rolling cart holding two of Dr. Maxxim’s hoverdisks, Astrid had the bicycle up on her workbench, had removed both wheels and had built a pair of simple brackets in their place. The hoverdisks were two and a half feet in diameter and six inches thick. She attached one hoverdisk to each bracket. Finally she connected one of her large test batteries to the two levitation devices, securing it to the bike frame with duck tape.
“Alright Austin,” said Astrid, with Robot Valerie’s help, setting the bike on the lab floor. “Would you like to be the first person to ride on a flying bike?”
“You bet!” he shouted, climbing into the seat. “What do I have to do?”
“Just try to keep your balance,” said Astrid. Then she turned on the hoverdisks.
The bicycle immediately rose from the floor, at first just a few inches, then a foot, and then it continued upward. The girls shouted excitedly, but no more than Austin, who looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself. The hoverdisks were humming quietly, slowly pushing the boy higher and higher. Then suddenly he was at the ceiling and he had to tilt his head to the side. Immediately the bike flipped over. Austin flailed his arms, as the now inverted hoverdisks drove him into the floor.
Astrid quickly jumped forward and disconnected the battery.
“Are you alright?” she asked the boy.
“Did you see me? I was flying!”
City of Amathar 