BDS on the OVN

Brief       on
Daily                Over-
Session    the    Night


*A disclaimer: I wrote the Forward of this post the night of Wednesday, July 3rd. All else was written throughout today: Monday, July 8th. It is long, and wordy, yet I find myself wishing to  use these posts as a place to practice what I am to do in my project while completing the assignments. Hopefully they will not be as unnecessarily verbose as this entry. When it comes to a blog, I find myself writing in a certain way. That will probably become more apparent as my posts mount.

Forward
In Other Words, The Beginning; In Other Words, I Dont Know What to Write

  The word "Daily" in the title of this post is deceiving. Tonight I am working the overnight shift for work, an unusual occurrence for a weeknight. A recap of the events leading up to this Brief "Nightly" Session warrant some scrutiny, to provide a backdrop for the circumstances in which I planned and wrote throughout it. 
  This morning my boss shot me a text asking if I wanted the shift, which normally spans from 10:30pm to 8:30am or 9:30am depending on the night, however tonight would end at 6:30am. After a short deliberation amongst myself and my significant other, with whom I work at the same agency, it was decided that I would agree to gain some easy cash and give my over-worked boss a break before independence day.
  My afternoon, therefore, was spent with a large pillow over my head to block out the sun's cheerful rays. It also served to dampen the sound of my cat scampering around catching any spider or beetle foolish enough to cross his excellent line of site. Needless to say, there was not more than an hour of sleep to be had.
  By 5pm I was at the headquarters of my agency, attending a required annual Crisis Prevention (CPI) recertification training. Still sleepy from my pitiful, tossy-turny nap, I found myself zoning out at any deviation from the curriculum. Stories of my coworker's experiences at work simply did nothing to jog the fog from my brain, no matter how longingly they craved all eyes and ears at their disposal. I had need of sleep under my belt before my shift, damnit! Afterwards a fast food dinner was in order before I unsuccessfully snatched at Z's hovering around my bed, the cat purring close by, taunting me with his lazy, relaxed breathing... Show off. Just before my shift, clinging desperately to my Mizzou-clad thermos, I sipped hazelnut flavored coffee while packing up my my bag for the night: Cellphone, Chargers, Coffee, Jacket, Keys, Kindle, Laptop, Notebook, Pens, Wallet? Check times nine.
  Stuck my key in my Jeeps ignition, drove the 2 miles to where I would be working, pressed the intercom to enter, walked briskly to the elevator, pressed up and then the button next to eight, got out of the elevator, walked down one hall, turned a corner, walked into the open door of the room and- what? Wrong room. Hurried to the next one, where the door was closed, opened it hurriedly and launched into explanations of my embarrassment to my coworker at having walked into the wrong room.
  After a few more moments of conversation, well-wishes for the night and whatnot, I began my shift, during which I immediately pulled out my computer and began tonights Brief "Nightly" Session.

Part I
A Reluctance to Accept a Lack of Inspiration

   A few lights blinked faintly near the hospital bed in the room, and the high pitched hiss of oxygen, coming from a face mask, mingled with the slow, regular inhalations of my client, calming me as I opened Google Chrome. The internet welcomed me with a bright screen, at which I stared, sipping stale, cold coffee, paralyzed in the glare. Between our last class and this point, many thoughts had circled through my head regarding the topic of my project. Romance, fantasy, and science-fiction all vied for my attention, from which subsets of satire, realism, post-modernism, ect. branched, overwhelming me. Therefore I began to postpone my session, glancing at the clock, labeling my indecision as a lack of inspiration, and a product of ignorance. An hour passed by, during which I cleared my mind, not through meditation, but through un-productive googling. It was not until about midnight that the session truly took place, spanning until around two o'clock in the morning, through about five twenty minute stretches.
  The genesis of the genre of my short-story came not from inspiration, but from research on the first of my list of potential genres: science fiction. "How do I begin?" I muttered to myself, "Where does it take place? Space obviously, but where in space and, less importantly, when?"

Part II

For Consideration: My Brain as the Setting for the Setting Argument

  <Self talk> Do not waste time creating a completely new planet. As a newcomer to short story writing, it is best to focus on locations that can be adequately researched so plot details need not be considered by my logic alone. Research should thus be limited to the solar system. As such, here are just a few things I should consider: </Self Talk>

• What are viable locales for human habitations within the solar system?
• What makes them viable?
• Where are they in relation to each other/Earth?
• What are the logistics of habitation?
• How in-depth should this short story delve?

First stop: NASA: Our Solarsystem

A list of potentially habitable planets and moons was necessary:

• Moon of Earth
• Venus
• Mars
• Moons of Jupiter:
• Io
• Europa
• Ganymede
• Callisto
• Moons of Saturn:
• Titan
• Enceladus
• Moons of Uranus:
• Oberon
• Titania
• Moons of Neptune:
• Triton
• Dwarf Planets:
• Pluto
• Charon
• Ceres

  At this stage my time was more than up.  A nurse had also entered the room, providing the perfect opportunity to clear the buzzing in my head. I rose from my chair, asking him a series of questions about my client, who lay deep in slumber. He answered as he worked, an air of impatience in his tone at what he no doubt deemed ignorance on my part. I hid my irritation at his lack of empathy, for the similarity of our jobs should have been more than apparent. A few minutes later another nurse arrived, saying something about taking blood samples. A needle was procured, along with a cotton ball and tape to cover the tiny incision. Of couse, my client then awoke at being suddenly poked in the arm, having not heard both nurses softly warning her of the incoming prick. It was obvious they were the ones who were ignorant: my client, in her old age, was nearly deaf. For the next half an hour my laptop lay closed on the chair, all my considerations drifting away as I assisted my client with becoming comfortable so she could return to her dreams. Hospitals clearly were not her favorite place.

Part III

In Which There Are No Results

  At just past one o'clock the nurses had gone and my client had just begun breathing heavily again. I allowed myself to slip bak in my chair, continuing my research. Looking at my list of planets and their moons in our solar system. Reviewing their information on NASA, I noted that the amount of information on most interplanetary destinations within our solar system is relatively scarce. Most images are from satellites passing by rather than from the surface. I have to admit, I was intrigued by the mystery, which led me to my second stop: Wikipedia.

  If one enters "Space Colonization" into Wikipedia, many on the planets and moons on my list are mentioned. The combination of information from both websites was overwhelming to think about and maintain. I found myself struggling to ascertain the sheer volume of idiosyncratic characteristics of all the possibilities while questioning just how viable each one was. Although many scientists had conjured hypothetical proposals for colonization of, say Ganymede and Titan, no such technology currently exists to make it possible. How far in the future must a story take place in order for humanity to successfully maintain a population on an interplanetary destination, and how would they keep contact with each other. How would they travel between them? Many answers, and new questions, rose from each passing paragraph; however it also became clear that there was not enough time to realize a fully formed idea in this session. I had a some basic evidence, but no results and therefore no hypothesis on which the backbone of my plot could rest.

  Yet through my strained gaze at the glare emenating from my computer screen, I found myself strangely drawn to several links littering the Wikipedia page for "Space Colonization," namely the "Colonization of Venus" and the "Colonization of Mars." I made a mental note to return to these sites at my next session for my time was up; any more research in my current session would not adhere to its "Brief" nature.

  My attention thus shifted to each task in front of me for the remainder of my shift. In the back of my mind, interest remained peaked, at times wandering to aesthetic renditions of each world so different from out own. These vivid images my mind painted drew me closer to the topic I had so nonchalantly chosen to research first, concentrating on an ever-changing plot.

  Hourly, a knock was heard on the door of the room, signaling the entrance of the night nurse who took different measurements with every visit. I took these opportunities to make awkward attempts at conversation aimed at receiving information about the condition of my client. My intentions were to relay any findings to my supervisor in the hope that they would be of some use. Yet, like the development of my short-story, the night proved slow, lacking any sign for better or worse, no results on which anything but speculation could occur.