THE BIMBORG: Out soon in paperback!

Final BIMBORG cover

Cover art rendered by Doug Sturk a.k.a. Sturkwurk

The proofs have been approved. Within a few days, the print-on-demand printer (CreateSpace) will upload the information to Amazon, and Amazon will create a page for the paperback version of my Star Trek parody.

The bad news: The cost for the U.S. edition will be thirteen bucks (plus shipping). And no, I won’t be making oodles of money at that price. In fact, I’ll pocket more money if you buy the Kindle version for six bucks.

The good news is, this way you can read my novel after a hurricane, or any other time there’s an extended power outage in your area.

The other good news is: The paperback is (soon to be) out and expensive, but at least it’s out. In the old days, when my choices would have been a) to pay to print out five hundred offset-print copies, have the five hundred books shipped to me, and then I store all five hundred books in my garage; or b) fuhgeddaboudit—well, this book would never exist in dead-tree form if those were my only two choices.

2013.03.28 breaking news: The paperback is up!

Want to see the original front cover and read the back-cover blurb?

Want to read the first three chapters?

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

Paperback
Kindle
Kobo EPUB
NOOK EPUB

EDIT: Added 2013.12.22—
Apple iTunes Bookstore

EDIT: Added 2014.06.27—
Page Foundry/Inktera EPUB

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How and Why I Wrote It: THE BIMBORG

Final BIMBORG cover

Cover art rendered by Doug Sturk a.k.a. Sturkwurk

Part One—the “Star Trek” TV shows.

I’ve watched every episode of every version of “Star Trek,” except for the Jonathan Archer prequel, which I came to loathe. While “Star Trek: The Original Series” sometimes has had poorly-written episodes (“Spock’s Brain”), the best-written TV episodes that I have ever seen, on any show I have ever watched, have been episodes of “Star Trek: The Next Generation.” But all of the “Star Trek” series (except for the abortion) were well written.

But let’s face it, “Star Trek: The Original Series,” despite its generally excellent writing, had its flaws and weaknesses. The diktat from the Suits Upstairs was that Roddenberry never kill off the main characters, which killed the suspense. Of course, the main characters wouldn’t be in any danger if Captain Kirk followed real-world military protocols and all the senior officers stayed safely on the ship. But nope, every week Kirk had to form the senior officers into an Away Team that boldly went straight into a dangerous situation. Somehow, though, Kirk, Spock, and McCoy never got killed. But the unfortunate security officers on the Away Team, whose uniform was a red velour pullover shirt? Killed every time, and before the next commercial.

On “Star Trek: The Original Series,” it wasn’t unusual to find both brilliant writing and bonehead writing in the same episode.

Part Two—the 1996 movie.

In 1996 I was watching Star Trek: First Contact in a movie theater. Starting about ten minutes into the movie, there was this sequence—

• Just beyond Earth’s atmosphere, the Enterprise and other Starfleet ships are fighting a Borg cube.

• Captain Picard takes command of the fleet and tells the ships to target a certain part of the Borg cube. All the Starfleet ships phaser that one spot.

• The Borg cube starts coming apart; shortly thereafter, it blows up.

• Just before the cube blows up, a portal opens, and out comes a sphere-shaped spacecraft. The Borg sphere heads straight toward Earth.

• The Enterprise chases after the Borg sphere. All the other Starfleet ships take a coffee break.

• The Borg sphere creates a time vortex.

• Right when the Enterprise gets to the lip of the time vortex, the Borg sphere disappears.

• Earth of the 24th century is changed. Earth now is a planet of “nine billion inhabitants, all Borg.”

• The Enterprise enters the time vortex, goes back to the year 2063, and the movie continues.

I saw that part of the movie and I thought, “[Nonsense]. One Borg sphere, with no backup, with only a few hundred or a few thousand Borg drones, could eventually assimilate nine billion people, defeating every 2063 military organization on Earth along the way? Impossible.”

Part Three—my “Bimborg” short stories.

In 2009 I was writing erotic mind-control stories for MCStories.com. I got to thinking, “Suppose there were a mad-scientist character, who could invent any kind of technology or could modify anyone else’s technology, and who was utterly lacking in conscience. What would he do if he found a Borg corpse?”

The answer I came up with, after he’d looted the corpse (because after all, he was without conscience), was that he’d modify those nanoprobes to make women into his sex slaves. So I wrote “The Bimborg” as a “stroke story,” and posted it at MCStories. Most of that story became most of Part One of this novel.

The title, by the way, is a portmanteau of Bimbo + Cyborg, or Bimbo + Borg. Take your pick.

Anyway, in 2011 I came back to the Bimborg idea, with a slightly different variant:

Suppose all the hot girls in a place were turned into bimborg, but instead of having sex with their “king,” they were ordered to have sex with a heroic man? What if neither the heroic man nor anyone else in town knew the real reason these women were having sex with him? How would he explain his sudden sexual windfall? How would onlookers explain it? Would women who weren’t bimborg now feel attracted to him?

And so was born would-be damsel-in-distress rescuer Charlie-Bob Owens.

In 2011 I posted Charlie-Bob’s tale at MCStories, as “Bimborg 2: Invasion of the Bawdy Snatch-Revelers.” That stroke story forms most of Part Two of my Bimborg novel.

Part Four—I decide: my “Bimborg” stories will expand into a full-length novel.

After I finished writing Three More Wishes, I went looking for another project, and it occurred to me that I could expand my two “Bimborg” stories into a full-length novel.

The central conflict for the novel was obvious from the start. If James, the mad-scientist character, had created bimborg by using technology stolen from evil cyborgs from the future, then bring back the evil Cybes from the future and have them start making trouble.

The hero for the novel also was obvious: Charlie-Bob Owens, who at the beginning of “Bimborg 2,” had gotten shot in the leg while trying to save the virtue of two damsels in distress.

Then it occurred to me that if I brought in evil cyborgs from the future, who were determined to turn everyone on Earth into one of them, that I had the very same situation that had bothered me so much about Star Trek: First Contact.

That’s when I decided to write a soft-porn parody of that part of Star Trek: First Contact.

Part Five—a parody doesn’t have to be funny, but it helps.

There already were parody elements in the “Bimborg” short stories. The first three women Welcomed (assimilated) into the bimborg hive, I named them Stephanie (sort-of rhymes with “Seven”), Annika, and Jeri. I mentioned a military officer named John Locutus Stewart. Then there’s this part—

After Stephanie’s insult during Thanksgiving dinner, I spent months in my workshop, rewriting all that nanobot programming.

But the nanobot hardware, this I left alone. Mechanical engineering in the 27th century is a wonder to behold, and comparing Cybe electronic engineering to what we have now? Resistors are feudal.

I guess at this point, I should define exactly what a parody is: A parody is a work B, written by an author AB, that is independent of a work A that is written by an author AA, but work B comments on work A. This is to distinguish a parody from a sequel/prequel, a fan-fiction story, and a normal fiction story.

A sequel (or prequel) is a work B by an author AA, that is set in the same universe as author AA’s earlier work A.

A fan-fiction story is a work B by an author AB that is set in the same universe as a work A by the originating author AA. Usually author AA, who is the copyright holder, neither explicitly grants permission nor explicitly denies permission for AB to write his fan-fiction story.

But usually, when two authors AA and AB each write a story, those stories are in every sense independent of each other, with different universes, different characters, and different plots. John Jakes’s North and South is not in any way connected to Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind, for instance.

But understand the differences between a parody and a fan-fiction: a parody has both story independence from another story, and it has commentary on that other story. Galaxy Quest isn’t set in the Star Trek universe—there is no Starfleet, and there are no Vulcans in Galaxy Quest—yet GQ is constantly making references to “Star Trek: The Original Series,” to William Shatner, and to Leonard Nimoy.

Part Six—I’ve written a parody.

First of all, The Bimborg meets the “independence” test. The Cybes have three specialties, whereas all Borg are the same. The Space Navy is inept compared to Starfleet, and Captain John Windham-Smythe definitely is not Jean-Luc Picard.

The Bimborg definitely meets the “references” test. There are numerous quotes from “Star Trek” movies—all taken out of context, and some are wildly out of context. I also borrow “Star Trek” characters’ names, such as with the two FBI agents Forrest McCoy and Leonard Spock. There is a running gag in the novel about “red shirts,” except that one woman figures out how to beat the Curse of the Deadly Red Shirt. (Read the novel to find out how!)

Part Seven—April 4th and 5th, 2063, I change the events from First Contact.

In the movie, the Borg sphere shows up on April 4th, 2063, the day before the historical event known as First Contact. Because of the successful Borg attacks, Zefram Cochrane never flies Warp Ship Phoenix, his converted ICBM missile, into space and then into warp; his now-nonexistent warp-drive signature is not noticed by the Vulcans; and so Vulcans don’t land a ship on Earth on April 5th, 2063. Three centuries later, all Earth people are Borg.

But then the Enterprise-E shows up in 2063, and the rest of the movie becomes about the battle to fix history.

In the end (big spoiler), history gets fixed and Zefram Cochrane shakes hands with a Vulcan man.

That’s the movie. My book plays things the exact opposite. In Chapter 3-I, the Cybes prevent Zefram Colburne from being born; so Zefram Colburne doesn’t demonstrate his “wormholer” for his neighbors on April 4th, 2063; so no Hephaistoans come visit Zefram Colburne (and Earth) on April 5th, 2063; and—that’s the ball game. The Space Navy gets de-caused, so there’s nobody to come from the future and rescue people of the 21st century from the marauding Cybes. If Earth is to be saved from the Cybes, only Charlie-Bob Owens and his bimborg can save the Earth.

Part Eight—Conclusion.

If you’ve already read The Bimborg, tell your friends about it.

If you haven’t bought it yet—for Pete’s sake, The Bimborg has sex scenes and it’s got “Star Trek,” so your continued delay is highly illogical.

Want to see the original front cover and read the back-cover blurb?

Want to read the first three chapters?

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

Paperback
Kindle
Kobo EPUB
NOOK EPUB

EDIT: Added 2013.12.22—
Apple iTunes Bookstore

EDIT: Added 2014.06.27—
Page Foundry/Inktera EPUB

For Sale: THE BIMBORG

Final BIMBORG cover

Cover art rendered by Doug Sturk a.k.a. Sturkwurk

Lots of news to share, after a year of working on The Bimborg: Part Nanobot, All Woman.

First of all, The Bimborg now is for sale as a Kindle.

Second of all: The Bimborg is soon to be for sale as a paperback. The PDF files for the bookblock (inside text) and the entire cover have been submitted to the print-on-demand printer. I’ve ordered a proof, which I expect to get within a week. If I disapprove the proof, it’ll be only because I don’t like how the cover turned out. More news as it becomes available.

Thirdly, all three of my books are for sale at the Barnes & Noble website in EPUB format. Here are the links:

Names Have Power
Three More Wishes
The Bimborg

Fourth: My books have been withdrawn from Google Play. Typically we were selling only one book a month. C’est la vie.

Fifth: This is the best “Star Trek” parody I’ve ever written. Okay, it’s also the only “Star Trek” parody I’ve ever written, but a man is allowed to brag sometimes, right?

Want to see the original front cover and read the back-cover blurb?

Want to read the first three chapters?

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

Paperback
Kindle
Kobo EPUB
NOOK EPUB

EDIT: Added 2013.12.22—
Apple iTunes Bookstore

EDIT: Added 2014.06.27—
Page Foundry/Inktera EPUB

Lots of Good News re THE BIMBORG

Final BIMBORG cover

Cover art rendered by Doug Sturk a.k.a. Sturkwurk

Things are going faster than I expected with the book. I expect that the PDF files will be uploaded to Kindle and to the print-on-demand printer within two weeks (meaning, before Feb. 26). I expect that the book will be available on Amazon and Google Play roughly a week after that.

Page count: That affects the cost of the paperback book, plus a bloated book isn’t as fun to read, so I really have wanted to reduce the page count.

Just by changing the font for most text from Times New Roman to Garamond, I reduced the page count from 398 to 379. But, that was the easy part.

By cutting out bloat, I’ve reduced the count by a further twelve pages. This is the part I’m proud of.

The cover of a book is designed as one big piece of cardstock paper, back cover-spine-front cover. Design on the cover can’t be finalized until the page count is finalized, because the spine thickness is proportional to the page count. What this means is that the cover won’t be finalized until the book text is finalized; but in the meantime, the front cover and the back cover can be designed. The final front-cover design is what you see above.

If the font for the book title looks vaguely familiar, it’s the same as the title font for the first five Star Trek movies. What an amazing coincidence.

Want to see the original front cover and read the back-cover blurb?

Want to read the first three chapters?

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

Paperback
Kindle
Kobo EPUB
NOOK EPUB

EDIT: Added 2013.12.22—
Apple iTunes Bookstore

EDIT: Added 2014.06.27—
Page Foundry/Inktera EPUB

THE BIMBORG—first draft is done

The first draft clocks in at 398 pages. Some of it is sexy (duh, I’m a soft-core pornographer), some of it is funny, and some parts will have you biting your nails in suspense.

I’m just glad to be finished with creating the story!

Now on to the second draft, in which I punch up the almost-exciting parts and I cut out the dull parts. Call me weird, but I take joy in figuring out how to replace forty plodding words with ten words that speak their truth perfectly.

For sale on Amazon: I still expect this to be sometime in March. More details as they become available.

Want to see the original front cover and read the back-cover blurb?

Want to read the first three chapters?

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

Paperback
Kindle
Kobo EPUB
NOOK EPUB

EDIT: Added 2013.12.22—
Apple iTunes Bookstore

EDIT: Added 2014.06.27—
Page Foundry/Inktera EPUB

One thing that my only Writing teacher never told me

Back when I was a university undergraduate, I took CLEP tests to get out of having to sit through required classes in subjects that I hated. I scored high enough that I took only one U.S. History class in residence, and only one U.S. Government class in residence; the only English class that I took was Term-Paper Writing.

At the time, I thought I was being clever. I’m big on contingency planning, but I never figured I might, maybe, someday be a novelist and need all that English stuff.

Anyway, I haven’t taken any kind of Creative Writing class since high school, and I haven’t had any Literature classes since high school. I know more about Escherichia coli than I do about James Joyce.

Getting the kind of education I’ve had, for a now-novelist, has been good and bad.

The good—

I recently got a chance to alpha-read a manuscript by a friend who has an English degree. Well, lot of things that her professors taught her, about how to write “literature,” made her manuscript unreadable. To write readable fiction, she has to unlearn a lot of stuff—thank heavens I don’t.

Another thing I’m pleased about: With my technical education, I can write books that the English majors and Literature experts would never think of, or would panic if they had to do research for.

The bad—

To learn how to write fiction, I’ve had to spend several hundred dollars on how-to books from Writer’s Digest. Even so, there are times when I’ll be stuck on a writing problem and I’ll think, “I’ll bet the English majors know how to solve this.” I suspect I’ve re-invented the wheel a lot.

Where am I going with this?

I’m currently writing the last chapter of The Bimborg (“last” not counting the Epilogue chapter). This chapter is what you’d expect, given the premise: Good v. Evil, with the fate of Earth itself in the balance.

The writing is giving me fits. I’ve thrown out two complete plottings since I began the chapter, and am now on my third plot for the final chapter.

I feel stupid. After all, the chapter has to start at a certain place (it seems that Charlie-Bob and his cause is doomed), and it has to end at a certain place (Good triumphs, and the villain is vanquished). So how hard should it be to write the stuff in between?

My high-school Creative Writing teacher never told me there would be days like this!

Well, maybe I can cheat?

For Charlie-Bob and the bimborg, it seemed that all was lost. “Victory is mine!” [the villain] cackled.

Then some amazing things happened.

Afterward, Charlie-Bob lived happily ever after. For one thing, he got laid a lot.

THE END

Want to see the original front cover and read the back-cover blurb?

Want to read the first three chapters?

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

Paperback
Kindle
Kobo EPUB
NOOK EPUB

EDIT: Added 2013.12.22—
Apple iTunes Bookstore

EDIT: Added 2014.06.27—
Page Foundry/Inktera EPUB

March, 2013 for THE BIMBORG? I hope so.

THE BIMBORG cover

Cover render by Doug Sturk, a.k.a. “Sturkwurk”

I’m writing the last plot sequence in Bimborg, not counting the Epilogue. After that, I’ll be done with the first draft. Whoo-hoo, party!

I exaggerate. There’ll be no party. I’ll drink a beverage, then start revising. But I don’t expect revising/rewriting the manuscript to take long.

What might well take long is what comes after that: Converting the Word 2010 document for The Bimborg into something that can be used by CreateSpace (the print-on-demand printer), by Amazon Kindle, and by Barnes & Noble NOOK.

Anyway, I expect at this point that The Bimborg will go up for sale in March, or maybe April. It’ll be sold, when it gets sold, in trade paperback and Kindle formats on Amazon, and in EPUB format at bn.com.

More details as they become available.

EDITED 2013.04.07: Changed “Google Play” to references to Barnes & Noble.

Want to see the original front cover and read the back-cover blurb?

Want to read the first three chapters?

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

Paperback
Kindle
Kobo EPUB
NOOK EPUB

EDIT: Added 2013.12.22—
Apple iTunes Bookstore

EDIT: Added 2014.06.27—
Page Foundry/Inktera EPUB

THE BIMBORG—First Three Chapters

THE BIMBORG front cover

Chapter 1-A: Invasion At The Farm

Summer, 2008

I, James Upton, changed the future in 2008.

I was reassembling the carburetor when I heard video-game sounds: zheorr, zheorr! You’re not supposed to hear video-game sounds in a barn.

It wasn’t my barn, of course, but rather my aunt’s and uncle’s. At the moment, Uncle Pete and Aunt Linda and the farmhands were all in town, so I was alone.

It pleased me that my uncle trusted me to be alone with heavy machinery. (Of course, I was fifteen then.)

To the strange noises coming from outside was added a yell: “Goddamn Cybes! why couldn’t they stay in the 27th century where we belong?”

“Because they know that Jimmy Upton is alone in the barn for 2.6 more hours!” someone yelled back.

Since I am Jimmy Upton (call me James), I immediately thought What the fuck? and Who the hell are the “Cybes”?

I hurried across the barn to the west-side big doors. There’s a one-inch gap between the big doors, even when they’re shut. So without being seen myself, I was able to see outside.

Standing outside the barn, their backs to me, were men and women in jumpsuits of dark green, dark blue, dark yellow, and maroon. They were firing ray-guns—complete with flashes of light and strange sound effects. And as weird as that was, it was nothing compared to whom these guys were shooting at.

At first I thought they were robots, because I was seeing so much metal. These people, both men and women, each had metal that was covering parts of their legs and arms. But they had the trunks and heads of people—except that they each had a weird helmet-like thing covering the top of his/her head and eyes, and they each had some weird structure running across the front of his/her chest at the heart. Each of these guys was flushed, as though with fever. These robot-people looked scary as hell.

The biggest and most armored of the robot-men had things built into their left arms that blasted lightning at the jumpsuit-people. Most of the jumpsuit-people jumped out of the way, but two people in maroon jumpsuits were electrocuted. Meanwhile, the smaller robot-men and all of the robot‑women were shooting ray-guns.

One of my defenders yelled, “I’m fighting for the Planetary Alliance and its Space Navy. What are you fighting for, Cybes?” Sarcastically he added, “Welcoming?

All the robot-people spoke as a chorus: “We are the Cybes. You cannot succeed, Space Navy. Defense is pointless.”

Then I heard pounding on the barn’s east-side human door, and a woman’s voice was calling, “Jimmy? Jimmy Upton? Are you in there?” I didn’t recognize her voice.

I was getting weirded out. I get a drop-in visitor at the same time as I have spacemen from the future battling outside? I went to the door but didn’t open it. “Who’s there?”

“Miss Smith, Jenny Smith.” When I didn’t say anything, she added, “I taught Computer Literacy class when you were in fifth grade. You invited me to your house that Christmas, remember?”

It didn’t occur to me till too late to ask myself, How’d she know where my uncle’s farm was? By the time I’d thought that, I’d already unlocked the padlock and opened the door.

The Cybe that had once been Miss Smith pushed her way into the barn.

She was naked, except for her metal parts. She was shorter than I remembered, but that didn’t make her less scary. Instead of a lightning-shooter on her left arm, her left arm was bare (and flushed red), with a box-like thing on the back of her hand. Metal tubes ran from that box to her pinky finger—

Her pinky finger had mutated. Instead of a pinky nail, it now sported a plastic-like cone that tapered to a needle. I did not want to get that needle in me. That “syringe” had to be filled with nanobots!

Once inside the barn, Miss Smith’s speaking changed, becoming flat and robotic: “The Overmind calms you. The Overmind frees you from emotion. The Overmind gives knowledge. We Welcome you into the Overmind.

I ran away from her then—but I stayed inside the barn. The video-game and zzzap sounds were still coming from outside the barn, so trying to escape from the barn in either direction wasn’t an option.

She chased me all around the barn. She wasn’t as fast as me, but she never got tired. Fifteen minutes later, I was panting and sweaty, and she was still chasing me. I grabbed up a shovel and tried to knock her flat. A purple rectangle appeared in the air, three inches in front of her chest, as I was swinging. When my shovel hit the purple rectangle, it was like hitting a wall. Miss Smith seemed unaffected by it all. I dropped the shovel and ran again.

I had a plan by then—a desperate plan, admittedly. I ran away to where the fire axe and the rubber gloves were kept, and tossed them into the storage loft. I was climbing the ladder into the loft when Miss Smith showed up. She started to climb the ladder.

In the loft were two objects big enough to hide behind. Miss Smith headed for the refrigeration compressor, because it was bigger. As she walked past, I stepped out from behind the irrigation pump. I was wearing the rubber gloves, and holding the fire axe backward. I swung the axe coming up from a low position, so that the axe’s pointy side hit her right where the base of her skull joined her neck.

She gave off sparks, as she began speaking the same seven words in a language I’d never heard before. Then she went silent, as she fell forward onto her face. I watched her for ten minutes, looking for any twitch of movement. There was none.

It was silent outside as well. I went to the west-side barn door and looked through the crack: I saw nobody. Nearly wetting myself with fear, I unbarred the doors and went outside.

Outside I found no spacemen, no Cybes and, oddly, no corpses. The only sign that there’d been a ray-gun battle here was a scorch mark on the barn. That, and an oak tree was burning.

I went in the barn and up the ladder to Miss Smith, who still had not moved. Now clearly visible was a boxy shape that was attached to her back, between her shoulder blades. An electric cable of some kind ran from the box to the base of her skull and into her brain. My axe-hit had cut that cable.

I cut off the box that was on her back, the box that had grown on her left hand, and her pinky needle. Then I buried the rest of her just outside the barn, underneath the hay baler. No ordinary animal would be digging up her corpse, under the weight of that baler!

I wept for the nice lady she had been four years ago. She couldn’t even change out a hard drive, but in fifth grade she’d gotten me interested in building computers. Hell, she’d made me feel like a genius. And now she was dead, I’d killed her, and she’d died looking and acting like a monster. Fuck.


I walked out of the barn, and noticed that the oak tree had burned itself out by then. It was while I was looking at the oak tree that I saw something strange happen in the air above the oak tree.

A black point appeared in the air, which almost instantly expanded in every direction, becoming a giant floating metal cube. A moment later, my ears popped.

The cube had grooves cut into each of the three faces that I could see. The cube, I realized, was a ship of some kind; each of the three faces had a big thruster-hole in the center of the face, with eight mini-thrusters surrounding each center thruster.

The cube-ship was in trouble. Even though the thruster on the bottom was shooting blue flame to move the cube higher, the cube was slowly sinking down. Also, the cube was wobbling and tumbling, and mini-thrusters on every side were firing short blue bursts to make the cube straighten up and fly right.

Most damning of all, all three faces had scorch marks; and the north-side face also had a spot where the metal had melted, filling in the grooves. The cube was giving off gray smoke and black smoke, and I saw two faces leaking a black liquid.

I knew I was looking at either the Cybes’ ship or the Space Navy ship, and I wondered what I should do if the ship crashed or exploded. Then I realized: I’m not obligated to help the fuckers who turned Miss Smith into a monster and tried to kidnap me.

But none of my worries came true. The cube quit wobbling; it stopped sinking. It rose in the air, as it swiftly shrank to a rising black point. A moment later, my ears popped again. After ten seconds, the black point vanished.

I watched for ten minutes, waiting for the damaged cube-ship to reappear. But after ten minutes of seeing only blue sky and clouds, I went in the house.


My uncle and aunt and the farmhands returned twenty minutes later, in a different truck than they’d left in. Uncle Pete said, “Yeah, the Ford threw a rod, so ‘a movie and fast food’ turned into a real adventure. How about you, Jimmy? What’s new?”

I pointed out the window to the oak tree. I said, “A lightning storm came through, and set the tree on fire.”

I shrugged and added, “Otherwise, it’s been a boring, ordinary day.”

Chapter 1-B: I Learn My Future

The summer ended, and I went back to Grand City and my parents. I brought with me the two boxes and the needle that I’d taken off Miss Smith’s Cybefied corpse.

During the next three years, I spent all my free time in my basement workshop.

Actually, it was my dad’s workshop—but he wasn’t there to use it much. He started “working late,” then my mom filed for divorce and he moved out. For a while, Mom didn’t get off the couch, then she went through a phase when she went out every night, then she started spending lots of time over at David’s apartment. I barely noticed, I was so obsessed with cracking the mystery.

The Cybes from the 27th century had come back almost to Y2K to grab me. They’d Welcomed my fifth-grade teacher, just to make sure I myself got Welcomed. Meanwhile, the other people from the future, my protectors, knew that the Cybes would come for me. Why? What did the future know about me?


2010

Two years after I’d killed Miss Smith and robbed her body, I still didn’t have answers to my ultimate question, but I knew what the two boxes and the cone needle were for.

I learned exactly who the Cybes were. The Cybes were the terror of the 27th century because if you fought them, killing one of your men is not the worst thing that the Cybes could do to you.

Nope, your soldier might get Welcomed by them, and then everything that this soldier knew about your weapons, defenses, and tactics, the Cybes would now know, through the Overmind. Worst of all, this Cybefied soldier’s loyalties would get completely and instantly changed, and he would wind up fighting against you as an Overmind-linked drone.

Individual Cybe drones were organized into clans; all the different clans together made up the multi-planetary Cybe hive. This Cybe hive was made up of—
• 427 human-colony planets that had been 99.9 percent Cybefied;
• the entire planet of the Stone Age-level Mrraok (cat people); and
• one captured ship filled with Amigogi interplanetary traders.

While the Overmind gave all the Cybes an inhuman level of agreement in what they did, Cybes also had Cybe Alpha in charge. Cybe Alpha gave orders when a decision was needed quickly.

By the year 2652 (the year that this clan of Cybes had come from), there were (are? would be?) specialties within the Cybes. The Cybes shooting lightning at the Space Navy were Soldiers. The Cybes shooting ray-guns at the Space Navy, as well as the former Miss Smith, all were Welcomers.

I had guessed correctly, back at my uncle’s farmhouse, that inside the plastic cone and needle were billions and billions of nanobots, whose job it was to convert a human body into a Cybe.

The box and cable on any Cybe’s back that connected to that Cybe’s brain were to connect that Cybe to the Overmind, by uploading and downloading thoughts and memories.

But providing a brand-new Cybe with its orientation and initial protocols was discovered to be too taxing of Overmind resources, for too unimportant a task. (Translation: It slurped up bandwidth.) So instead of a new Cybe getting orientation from the Overmind, by 2652 everything that the new Cybe needed to know was broadcast from the transmitter on the Welcomer’s hand.

There was a third kind of Cybes, the Invisibles. Invisibles looked like regular humans (or Mrraok, or Amigogi) and mimicked the speech and actions of regular humans, thanks to their Turing Subroutines. An Invisible’s Overmind module wasn’t a box on its back; but rather, a small hemisphere on the back of its skull, easily hidden by hair or fur. Invisibles couldn’t Welcome, and they couldn’t fight like Soldiers could fight, but Invisibles could blend in perfectly, while reporting everything they saw and heard to the Overmind.

It was the Invisibles who made the Cybes even more terrifying in the 27th century. By the time the people in a human community ever laid eyes on Soldiers and Welcomers, chances were good that the Overmind already knew who that community’s leaders were, and what defenses they had. Entire settlements were Welcomed without their defenders being able to fire a shot.

Finally, there were a small fraction of Cybe Leaders. Leaders were red-skinned, unlike Invisibles; and Leaders had the armor and force-field generators of Soldiers, but didn’t have any built-in weaponry. Leaders weren’t artificially tall and strong, like Soldiers were; but this meant that Leaders weren’t quick-tempered like Soldiers were. Only a Cybe Leader could become Cybe Alpha.

One thing that the Cybes did not have, I noticed, was a “Cybe King” or “Cybe Queen”—

Meaning, someone who hadn’t been Cybefied, so that his/her  thoughts couldn’t be read by the Overmind, but who could give orders to Cybe Alpha and to the Overmind both.


When I finally solved the mystery, Why me?, I was eighteen, and it was a week after my high-school graduation. I tell you, if I’d been legal to buy liquor that night, I would have gotten myself blotto on the nastiest, cheapest rotgut I could find. But forced to stay sober, I watched my Ghostbusters DVD five times in a row.

In my place, you’d have done the same thing. You see, I created the Cybes.


Once upon a time, around 2050 or so, there was a professor of nanotechnology named Jimmy Upton.

Compared to the 27th century, nanotechnology in the 2050s was primitive. You built the nanobots outside the human body, you loaded every nanobot with the same program outside the human body, and you injected all the nanobots into the human body. Then every nanobot followed the same program, whether it was inside the heart or inside the hand. Each nanobot could sense only hydrogen ions, hydroxide ions, and carbon dioxide. Like I said, nanotechnology in the 2050s was “primitive.”

In the 2050s, what did nanotechnology professors do? They tried to figure out how to stuff a few more computer instructions into a nanobot’s brain, or how to make the nanobot a little faster or a little smaller. Everyone accepted the “limits” of nanotechnology: Every little ’bot has to behave the same as every other ’bot.

But in 2055, “I” (my older self) published a paper declaring that it was possible to create a system in which every nanobot in the body could report back what it was finding, and could receive tailored instructions. This could be achieved, “my” paper declared, by building a little transmitter/receiver into every nanobot.

To put it bluntly, “my” paper was laughed at. For a nanobot to work right, it has to be small enough to pass through blood capillaries. It was gleefully pointed out that even the smallest transmitter-receiver that was imaginable in 2055 would make the nanobot way too big for human capillaries.

Imagine an astronomy professor, who has a Ph.D. and an observatory, claiming that there are men on Mars and that the Martians want to meet us. A nut case, right? That’s how “I” was viewed within the nanotechnology community.

“I” persisted. Yet instead of persuading anyone, I was labeled a crackpot and fired from the university. And for the rest of “my” life, I remained in disgrace, a national joke—when “I” died, only my elderly Aunt Linda came to my funeral.

“I” died in 2064 with my reputation a joke. But in 2314, the anti-tachyon microtransmitter was invented. Soon after that, someone remembered my “ridiculous” theory, and the CNS (Coordinated Nanobot System) was perfected in 2331.

Nanobot breast-enhancement became commonplace overnight. Near-eternal youth became possible; within a few years, it became affordable. By 2354, comedians were making jokes about great-grandparent/great-grandchild incest. Women over a hundred years old became call girls—and stole clients away from young whores.

Meanwhile, unnoticed by anyone in the news media, the men and women being sent to the gold-mining prison planet Tizurka IV were getting their bodies nanobot-modified, so that they could live and work on the planet without spacesuits. As part of their modifications, their projective-telepathy psychic abilities were enhanced.

In 2419, Rachel Toyomachi was convicted of hacking Earth’s planetary-defense computer system. To “make an example of her,” the judge sentenced her to Tizurka IV. Once there, she proved herself to be a skilled hacker but a poor programmer—when she hacked into the nanobot-control computer, she accidentally created the Overmind.

In 2427, two mine-collapses occurred on Tizurka IV within the same month. The Tizurka miners declared the mines to be unsafe, and declared a work stoppage. Thanks to the Overmind, that work stoppage was 99.9999 percent effective.

Interestingly, there were fourteen miners on Tizurka IV who kept working, in order to toady up to the warden. They were part of the Overmind, but they didn’t obey what the Overmind said.

Anyway, in 2427, gold-mining on Tizurka IV came to a halt. Halliburton PanStellar immediately demanded that the Space Navy “do something.”

The Space Navy, not understanding what it was dealing with, sent a squad of Epsilon Force Marines in spacesuits to “neutralize” the Tizurka IV leadership. Alas, the Space Navy never asked itself the question, “What happens when a man who needs a spacesuit fights a man who doesn’t?”

After that embarrassment, the Space Navy sent an entire company of Space Marines to the surface of Tizurka IV. It took those men longer to die.

The Space Navy took time to consider its options, then sent an entire battalion to Tizurka IV in 2428, under the command of General Karl Mbomo. But when the battalion arrived on-planet, they discovered that the Overmind-connected Tizurkans had concocted a new defense.

A Private Chong was the first offworlder to be Welcomed. A Major Lech!-Chich was the second. General Mbomo  was third.

When General Mbomo got Welcomed, the Overmind-linked people on Tizurka IV became the first Cybes, and Mbomo became the first Cybe Alpha.


And all this happened because in 2055, “I” wanted to prove how smart “I” was by publishing that damned paper.

Well, one thing was for sure: This Jimmy Upton wasn’t going to make that mistake!

Even though I now knew how to build and to program my own Cybe-making nanobots that communicated with each other by anti-tachyons—thus proving that “my” paper was correct.


Or so I resolved. I would have kept this knowledge quiet—never publishing it, never using it—until Mom’s boyfriend’s daughter Stephanie spoke fateful words at Thanksgiving dinner.

David’s daughter Stephanie stood up from the table, her plate in her hand.

“What are you doing?” Mom asked.

“The stuffing’s too cold,” she said. “I’m gonna nuke it.”

“Honey, don’t do that,” Mom said. “You’ve got cranberry on your plate. Cranberry is a dish that is best served cold.”

“It’s my food, Ellen,” Stephanie said. “If I want to microwave it, I’m going to microwave it, and you can’t stop me.”

“Go ahead, Steph, if you need to,” David said.

“Hot cranberries?” I said. “You’re weird, Stephanie.” Understand that when I said this, I was making a joke.

Stephanie looked down her nose at me. “Whereas you are a loser, and you’ll die a loser.”

That hit too close to home, because of what had happened to my other self in 2064. That’s when, in my anger and hurt, I crossed a line in my mind.

“I” had died in 2064 being called an idiot, a fool, even crazy. Well, this James Upton would show Stephanie—no, I’d show them all!

Chapter 1-C: Queen Stephanie-1

It really doesn’t matter why I did everything I did, does it?

After Stephanie’s insult during Thanksgiving dinner, I spent months in my workshop, rewriting all that nanobot programming.

But the nanobot hardware, this I left alone. Mechanical engineering in the 27th century is a wonder to behold, and comparing Cybe electronic engineering to what we have now? Resistors are feudal.


2011

Listen here, have I told you about Exnillo packs? They’re not much to look at—one of them is about the size of two shirt buttons glued together—but they’re amazing technology.

An Exnillo pack takes energy from. . .the universe, basically. Year-2011 science says this baby can’t exist, and yet I’ve got one powering the Cybe computer I stole. Keep using a ray-gun till its Exnillo pack is dead, and the sucker will recharge itself in 24 hours. In the 27th century, fossil-fuel technology is thought to be “quaint.”

Here’s what I’m proud of: I figured out a way to grow an Exnillo pack inside a woman, as part of the bimborg-ization process.

This is a big achievement. For one thing, Cybes don’t have built-in Exnillo packs. Cybe Welcomers take their energy from little battery packs inside their armor, while Cybe Soldiers use big battery packs. But either way, the battery pack only gets recharged after a Cybe has spent the night in a Recharging Chamber.

My bimborg, whether Pleasure Units/Welcomers, Ass-Kicker Babes, or Spy Babes, don’t need no stinkin’ Recharging Chambers.

If I want to have an orgy at 3 a.m., my Pleasure Units aren’t standing in a box then. You want to send a squad of Special Ops guys to attack me at 3 a.m.? My Ass-Kicker Babes aren’t standing inside a box either.

Yeah, there’s a big design tradeoff. Besides being much weaker than a Cybe Soldier, a bimborg Ass-Kicker Babe can’t shoot lightning bolts like a Soldier can. On the other hand, at three a.m., an Ass-Kicker Babe is ready to fight, while a Soldier must stand in his box and recharge.

But let’s be honest, huh? I didn’t cook up these improved designs so I could have more deadly bimborg bodyguards. Nope, I designed things this way so that any Pleasure Unit would be truly “a 24‑hour fucking machine.”


Eventually my work was done; the day came when I showed up at Stephanie’s apartment, supposedly to apologize for something I’d said.

“Is the wine chilled?” she demanded to know. “Or did you leave it in the trunk of your car?”

“It just came from the refrigerator,” I replied. “Even I know, wine is a drink that is best served cold.”

My left hand held out the bottle of amontillado that was my supposed “apology gift”; my right hand was in my pocket. As smirking Stephanie took the bottle from my hand, I stepped forward and, using the cone-needle Cybe thing as my syringe, injected her in the back of her neck.

Stephanie pushed me away, too late. She grabbed the bottle of sherry by the neck, intending to use it on me as a club. She screamed at me to get out—or rather, sheintended to scream at me.

She couldn’t utter a sound.

Panic replaced anger on her face. That quickly was replaced by calmness.

When five minutes and 27 seconds had elapsed since I’d needled her, I said, “Administrator command: Mute override.”

Stephanie paused, then replied in a calm voice, “This unit senses no others. Is this unit the first bimborg unit?”

“Correct,” I said. “Your unit number is 1.”

“Who is Alpha? Is this unit Bimborg Alpha?”

“I am James Upton, Bimborg King. I am in command. You are in command of all bimborg, subject to my orders. Your function is Bimborg Queen; I don’t like the termAlpha.”

“Understood. What is Bimborg Unit-1’s designation?”

I almost got smart-aleck and said Stephanie of Nine West, since she was such a shoe-buying fiend. Instead I said, “Your designation is ‘Stephanie-1.’ A unit’s designation will be that unit’s Solitary first name, followed by her unit number.”

“All units will comply.”

Now comes the good part, I thought. Hopefully. Aloud I said, “I call subroutine Turing-Bimbo.”

Her expression and body language changed completely. “Ooh, Jimmy, you are sooo sexy! Let’s drink some of this wine and then, like, I’m gonna make you see stars.”

“Call me James from now on. Even in front of my mom or your dad.”

“You got it, James. So, tiger, is there, like, anything you want to do now?” Her voice sounded like a phone-sex operator.

“Yes,” I said, “I want you to get naked. And while you do, tell me your standard orders as Bimborg Queen.”

“Sure thing, lover.” As she unbuttoned her blouse, she said, “As a bimborg I’m to, like, fuck and suck you silly whenever you tell me to, and, you know, otherwise obey your every command. I will always dress to get you so totally hot; also, I’m to act, you know, sizzling hot and horny for you, but like totally uninterested in every other guy. As a bimborg, I must, every moment, do the whole ‘Three Laws of Robotics’ thing when it comes to you.” Pulling down her skirt, she added, “As Queen, I’m to Welcome the first Pleasure Units/Welcomers, Ass-Kicker Babes, and Spy Babes, and make sure that every unit acts totally like a good little bimborg, you know?”

I said, “Supplemental Order One for the Bimborg Queen: Cover all traces of everything we do, so that neither the military nor any level of law enforcement notices anything unusual.”

“Ooh, I will comply,” she said in a sexy voice.

“Supplemental Order Two for the Bimborg Queen: Subject to the limitations of Supplemental Order One, if you see a way to make my life better, then do so.”

“You got it, stud muffin,” Stephanie said.

“Arouse,” I said. Her nipples popped up. I put my hands on her tits, and she smiled at me. I said, “Your tits feel burning hot.”

“Will they get bigger?” she asked.

I nodded. “And your hair and fingernails will get longer soon.”

She said, “Good. Big tits please you.”

I took Stephanie to bed—

She lay on the bed, legs up and spread, and her arms reached for me. “My wet, eager pussy wants you, King James. Fuck me! Fuck me with your hard, throbbing cock!”

Stephanie-1 was indeed wet and eager; she was also agreeable and inexhaustible. She knew a trick with her pussy muscles—Wow.

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

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Writing a “Star Trek” parody is harder than it looks

In my post of September 15th, I told you the sales blurb for my upcoming soft-core porn novel The Bimborg.

Now, I didn’t come out and say it was a “Star Trek” parody, but between the art and the sales blurb, Trekkies will figure this out.

Well, I’ve since come to figure out that if my novel is a “Star Trek” parody, then it has to be just like “Star Trek” in one respect: It has to have epic battles.

I’ve published two previous novels as Doctor MC. The climax in both Names Have Power and Three More Wishes involved the good guy fighting the bad guy in a one-against-one confrontation. But with Bimborg, I’m not revealing any big spoilers to tell you that at least once in the novel, Charlie-Bob Owens and the bimborg have to fight off a whole lot of evil Cybes.

You’ll have fun when you read the chapter(s). But writing Cybes-v.-bimborg chapters is hard.

The first reason is that I’ve never been a general or admiral, so it’s a challenge for me to make what happens when imaginary armies collide, be believable.

The second reason is that an army has more options than an individual has. So when I have an evil army fighting a good army, I have to consider many more plot options of how the battle could go.

The third reason is that the action during a big-battle chapter is supposed to be exciting, so I need to do more plotting per page. In the beginning of the novel, I can spread out my plot points to one per page or one per several pages; but in the big battle scenes, a plot point might only take up two paragraphs before another plot point hits.

But am I complaining, saying “The life of a novelist is oppressive”? Not at all.

Follow me a moment—

I as a reader don’t like literature or “Chick Lit” where the entire story is a bunch of people talking and crying. When I pick up a novel, I want things to happen!

When events happen in a novel, it’s because the novelist plotted those events to happen.

Well, I give a lot of thought to my plotting, and the result is that in my stories, exciting things just seem to happen. I take great pride in that.

I don’t neglect the emotional parts, though I make them secondary. In both Names Have Power and Three More Wishes, the hero doesn’t change much, but someone near to the hero changes for the better during the novel. In Names Have Power, that person is Susan Cooper; and in Three More Wishes, both Fatima the genie and Virgilia the stripper have personal-growth character arcs.

So shall it continue in The Bimborg. Wait till you see what happens to the high-school girl who is originally known as Nightshade the witch.

But to get back to my original point: Writing The Bimborg has turned out to be the biggest writing challenge I’ve ever taken. But IMNSHO, you “Star Trek” fans will be blown away by the results.

Want to see the front cover and read the back-cover blurb?

Want to read the first three chapters?

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy my books now! You know you want to.

The Bimborg

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Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie

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Names Have Power

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A novel coming “soon” on Amazon: THE BIMBORG

THE BIMBORG cover

Cover art rendered by Doug Sturk a.k.a. Sturkwurk

I’m writing it now. Here’s the cover-blurb text—

How does one young man alone stop cyborg invaders from the future?

For Charlie-Bob Owens, a nerd high-school senior, everything started when he attacked an armed robber in order to save two fair damsels. He got shot in the leg as a result.

Soon after, he got rewarded with a harem of—though he had no way of knowing this—sex-slave cyborgs called bimborg. All he knew was that the hottest girls in his school (plus two hot teachers) were dropping their boyfriends and were offering Charlie-Bob any kind of sex, anytime, anywhere.

But soon after, Earth got a second kind of cyborg: the Cybes, evil cyborgs from the 27th century, who had conquered 428 planets. The Cybes had gotten stranded in the year 2013. The Cybes decided to do what they did best: turn every one of Earth’s billions of people into a Cybe.

Two weeks after Charlie-Bob Owens learned the truth about his high-school harem, about the bimborg (of whom there were 22 million on Earth), and about the Cybes, Charlie-Bob became Bimborg King. He alone could save Earth from the Cybes.

But what about the Cybes’ deadly enemies in the 27th century, the Space Navy of the Planetary Alliance? The Space Navy got prevented from ever existing. Now there was nobody who could come from the future and help Charlie-Bob beat the Cybes.

Note: This is a soft-core porn parody. But not of “Lost In Space.”

PARTS OF THE NOVEL:

Part 1: “KING JAMES” UPTON—he’s the mad scientist who steals Cybe technology and creates a worldwide harem of bimborg.

Part 2: CHARLIE-BOB OWENS—he does a brave act to save two damsels in distress, and unknowingly wins a great reward.

Part 3: THE CYBES—evil cyborgs from the 27th century crash on Earth, and decide to Cybefy all of Earth’s people.

Part 4: BATTLE FOR EARTH—Charlie-Bob and the bimborg v. the Cybes.

Part 5: EPILOGUE—life after the climactic battle between Good and Evil.

EDIT: Added 2013.05.03—
Buy The Bimborg now! You know you want to.

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EDIT: Added 2013.12.22—
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