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Books written by Ray Sullivan

Tuesday 30 April 2013

No Shit, Sherlock

I'm not really a gamer, I'll be honest.  I have PCs and a Nexus 7 tablet but I use them for surfing the web, searching for information, I use Microsoft Office for running spreadsheets and, of course, writing books.  I even write the odd blog entry now and then.  Some contend that all my blog entries are odd.

When I first started with computers, back in the early Eighties, it was with initially a Sinclair ZX81 (known as the Timex ZX81 in the US), then a Sinclair Spectrum (also badged as a Timex over the pond).  My main aim for these was to learn programming and I did a bit of that. But those were halcyon days and there was a large amateur industry that grew up generating games for the new computers.

I quickly gravitated to games that were puzzles - text adventures featured highly in my software list.  I'd like to see someone try to make a living out of text computer adventures today now that 3D virtual reality web-based interactive gaming is the rage.  To be fair, I'm not sure I'd be up for them either, but nostalgically I  have a soft spot for them in my memories.

As the computer industry matured, affordable PCs arrived.  I say affordable, but of course that's a relative term.  I paid £1200 for an Amstrad PC 1512 with twin floppy disk drives and no hard drive in 1989 to help me with my Open University studies.  That's over $1800 at today's exchange rate.  For that kind of money I reckon I could buy a pretty powerful PC or a stock Macintosh today.

Although the PCs were still very expensive in real terms, a new industry grew up.  It was called Shareware and amateur programmers produced games and other software that was very competitively priced.  Some of the companies that are huge today started out as Shareware programmers. However I suspect most peaked at about this time, when software was simple enough for one guy to write and complex enough to make it worth buying.  Hardly anything from that era has survived as a commercial prospect, such is the rate of change.

There was one program that I bought way back then, not Shareware but similar in that it was produced by a one man band and sold at a modest price.  Like most of the leisure software I've enjoyed over the years, it was a game that stretched my braincells.  It was, and is, called Sherlock, and it has recently been ported over to Android and iOS platforms.  The brains behind it is a guy named Everett Kaser.  I don't know a whole lot about Everett - Wikipewdia doesn't seem to know much about him either - but anyone who has taken the time to read his notes or has received his newsletters will realise he has a wicked sense of humour. He's also almost pathological about logical paths.  Sherlock is almost certainly his finest hour.  So, what is it?

It's a game where 6 people, 6 coloured houses, 6 numbers (1-6 inclusive, who'd have thought?), 6 fruit, 6 road signs and 6 letters (H, O, L, M, E & S) are arranged in a unique way.  At the start of the puzzle one or two of the items (people, houses etc) are revealed, although not always.  Some puzzles start with no pieces in their resting places.

Then, below the playing area are a series of visual clues.  Have a look at this screenshot from the Everett Kaser website:


Now this tells me that the Neanderthal Man is in the same column as the number 4 and the letter H.  Looking at the horizontal clues I notice that the number 4 is between the banana and the yellow house.  This means two things straight off:  Number 4 cannot be in either of the outside columns (because it's between two other items) and therefore the Neanderthal Man and the letter H are also not on the ends.  A good start.  You work through the clues and solve the problem.  Sometimes it's like a war of attrition, sometimes you get to make leaps of logic.  Wild stabs in the dark are rewarded with maniacal laughter - this is a game for the thinker, not the gut instinct soldier.

It works great on the Nexus 7 in Android (I haven't seen it working on iOS, but I've been buying this game for years for various platforms - Everett doesn't let us down).  It costs £2.50 for the full fat version, which is probably the least expensive version I've bought over time, available from Google Play store and Amazon (presumably for the Kindle Fire users).  For the Apple version, pop along to the iTunes store.  There are free trial versions available for you to download to see if it works for you - whatever your favoured platform. Once you get the hang of the game, it's easy to play, always challenging to win.  There's always one single solution and it's always solvable.  Everett provides a hint service for those times you can't see the wood for the trees, but it rapidly becomes a badge of honour (cool name for a game, I think) to avoid hints, swerve notifications and yet to beat the clock.  

A great game to while away a few minutes or even hours.  Everett has helpfully made the clock hold automatically if you close the app down, so you can dip in and out of the same game over the time it takes to commute to work, stopping as you board your train or cross the street.  Don't even think of trying it while you're driving!  If you prefer to use a PC or Mac for your leisure, then Sherlock plus a whole host of other logic games await you on Everett's website.

If you enjoy a cerebral challenge and have a tablet computer, mosey over to Everett's webpage and help keep a computing legend rolling.


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Monday 29 April 2013

Parallel Lives chapter 90


Simon flung the intel reports back onto the desk and resumed his earlier pastime of staring out of the window.
The last two years had been good to Simon, ever since his transfer to head up the Special Projects Intelligence Department. Following what Gerald insisted on calling the ‘Debacle in Devon’, research efforts into the project had intensified, with the country being scoured for potential level three-ers and even utilizing volunteers that were high end level two-ers. The volunteers had not fared well, with two ending up sectioned and one dying from a reaction to the drug regime needed. However the pre-emptive intelligence gleaned had reaped bountiful rewards, especially with the worsening relations between Britain and America.
In fact the Americans had become increasingly paranoid as every attempt to break up British spy rings were thwarted just ahead of them. Their belief was that American Intelligence had been riddled with informers and they had consequently turned their considerable resources into a massive witch hunt internally. This in turn had aided British attempts to obtain previously secret information regarding American weapons systems the British had bought in years gone by when relations had been better.
Now Simon's superiors were baying for more of the same, the political landscape was strewn with rocks and boulders and they wanted the means to scale these obstacles. Unfortunately for Simon the pre-emptive intelligence was drying up, despite the endeavours of the scientists running the program. No matter what they tried, they kept running into blocked doors at every turn, or produced intel that was the equivalent of old news.
Simon turned back to the reports he had scattered over his desk a few minutes earlier and shook his head. He needed to produce some good intelligence soon, and it didn't look as though he was going to succeed the way things were panning out.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011


The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence.  All rights reserved

Parallel Lives is published in paperback and as an eBook

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


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Sunday 28 April 2013

Where Are the Wearable Computers?

Already this year wearable computing has been a hot topic.  Apple iWatch to Google Glass there is talk about integrating computing power with the ordinary items we place on our wrists and faces every morning.  In many ways it is an obvious extension to the way computing has moved, from large bulky boxes to compact tablet computers, some of them masquerading as mobile phones.

Not all the hype is being believed - there's justifiable scepticism over the do-ability of some of these projects.  For a wristwatch to be wearable it has to be pretty small, for spectacles that will be mostly lenses there's virtually nowhere for the electronics to reside.  There's nothing inherently radical about what any of these devices are proposing to do - they are mirroring the capabilities of mobile phones, tablet computers and digital cameras but in a very compact package.  It's the package coupled with the advertised seamless integration of the functions that is setting the interest levels to high.  And the doubt levels are up there too.

There are some rumours floating around that that Google Glass is an elaborate hoax.  If it is, it's an indication that you can have too much money, and if anyone has too much, it's probably Google.

But let's suppose that the wearable computing concept is in fact very doable - and as I said there's nothing technologically difficult here apart from the integration at the minuscule scale.  In fact, the dimensions are probably only an issue if you're aiming at a budget, and for these to take off as consumer devices you have to.  So, it is possible that until economies of scale are achieved, Apple and Google may have to subsidise these products.  Well, maybe not Apple - they have a knack of stringing out a new product, working up the faithful and the packaging it in a way that makes it irresistible - but I'm not convinced Google have that skill-set yet.   The Nexus range of tablets are bumping along despite being good products - I use a Nexus 7 every day and love it - and the Chromebooks, aggressively priced that they are, don't seem to be making much of a dent in the market despite aggressive TV advertising.

So maybe the Google Glass product is giving the impression of a hoax simply because they are trying so hard to work up a head of pressure on the product launch.  They've tried the Apple approach of denial, then a series of carefully leaked reports.  They even allowed a group of  people to apply to trial beta versions for a year before launch as long as they paid $1500 for the prototypes.  Coincidently, $1500 is the projected price for Google Glass when launched.  Some find that a little bit suspicious.  I see two possible scenarios that might be considered possible.

First, they are truly prototypes and the $1500 is a significant enough sum of cash to make sure that only the serious apply to help with the trial.  But of course, $1500 is nothing to what a rival manufacturer would pay for access to a beta product to disassemble and maybe reverse engineer ahead of launch.

Second, running a competition publicly to gather applications for trialling this product provides a realistic focus group of those who probably are the target market for the finished product.  Tell a little porky to say that the successful applicants have been selected and everyone who might be a potential purchaser goes 'shucks' and awaits the launch.  In the meantime, successful 'applicants' are seen wearing the Google Glass in public, in the press and on the web.  They blog, they write newspaper columns, they promote.  But they could be wearing dummy Glass.  Or maybe the real deal, but who says they aren't Google employees?

Now look back at how Apple are managing the iWatch project.  The concept has been leaked, but virtually all the functionality has been second guessed by the on-line Apple community.  Critically the technological aims are relatively modest to that being pursued by Google, but tangible.  And one really important thing to remember about Apple is that they rarely invent new ideas, no matter what the patent lawyers keep insisting. There were MP3 players aplenty before the iPod, even very good MP3 players such as the Creative Zen (we've got a couple of these at home), but the iPod was better.  The Mac Air is hardly the only laptop in town and the iWatch isn't the first attempt at a wrist-based computing device.  But it will probably be the best example.

So the iWatch will appear and it will be a success.  No doubt about that.  When, I'm not sure, but it will come in a fantastically designed box when it does and will cost way more than it should.  Apple fans will queue around the block for days to get one.

Google Glass - fact or hoax?  If they are a fact, then they will turn up late this year or early next.  If a hoax then someone, somewhere will make them a fact, and Google will buy that someone to make sure it's them who sell them. When?  No idea, but expect it won't be more than a couple of years.


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Saturday 27 April 2013

Android Keyboard Gets the Thumbs Up

I taught myself to touch-type around 1998, maybe 1999.  I was working on defence projects and was writing specifications, reports and even found time to write up a couple of editions of an in-Service magazine named 'Riggers' World'.  To be honest, they were the only two editions ever produced, unless someone resurrected the project after I left the RAF in 2002.  If you come across a copy of either edition of that journal then please realise it is almost certainly collectible now.  I wrote 100% of the words - not that makes it particularly collectible - had it printed on high quality magazine paper by a specialist printing outfit within the Royal Air Force and distributed it to every operational station in the airforce that employed airframe technicians - Riggers in airforce slang.  It was intended to promote the technical training activities of the squadron that employed me and actually caused a bit of a buzz for a short while, then died from lack of sponsorship.  A few copies fell into my memory box, along with a set of Chief Technician epaulette slides and I guess the vast majority were recycled over a decade ago.  So due to rarity the magazines should be collectible to someone now.  Of course, the few remaining copies may actually be in the possession of the only person who wants a copy.

So I had to type a lot of words.  Bear in mind that ten years earlier I had bought my first PC at a time when the airforce actually didn't have any PCs in the workplace - I'm sure a few officers had PCs on their desks but apart from some dedicated mini-mainframe engineering databases we didn't come into contact with that kind of technology at all.  By the mid 90s the airforce started to modernise and PCs started appearing in the operational work areas and by the end of the Century I was pretty much chained to a PC and haven't seen sight of the key since.

Initially I was a two fingered typist, stabbing at the keyboard with my index fingers like Schroeder out of Peanuts, hunched over trying to push out a couple of thousand words a day on technical reports.  I started to realise that I had pretty much reached terminal velocity with two fingers, so I decided to teach myself to touch type.  I walked my keyboard down to the photocopier, pushed out a printout of it and taped it at the bottom of my monitor screen.  For a couple of months I painstakingly typed using all ten fingers and thumbs, avoiding looking at the keyboard but using the photocopy in front of me to find the right keys.  By month three I had overtaken my two fingered speed record and I've touch typed ever since.  OK, I admit it, I do look at the keyboard more than a true touch typist does, but it was certainly worthwhile learning that skill.

But the world, inexorably, continues to turn and I spend as much time using my Nexus 7 for computing - outside of work anyway - as I do with my laptop.  Now anyone who has tried typing on a tablet computer will have struggled a bit.  iPad sized tablets are just about doable, although I suspect most users perform the Schroeder style stab for most of their typing.  Touch typing on the Nexus 7 sized keyboard is not a viable proposition.

I've written a few of the blog entries on the Nexus over the last few months too, but I'll be honest - it's a slow process due to that darned keyboard.  So it was with keen interest that I learned that researchers in the UK, Germany and the US have collaborated on designing a keyboard for tablet computers.


It's been named the KALQ keyboard and is designed to be operated with the thumbs.  The name is derived from the line of letters lining the lower right-hand set of keys, much in the same way that the keyboard you use on your PC (in the UK and US at least) is called QWERTY.  In Germany it is QWERTZ because of a slightly different arrangement of the letters.

There are several competing theories about how the standard keyboard came to have the obscure arrangement we are now all used to.  The most common belief is that it was designed to optimise the typing process, putting the most used letters in the most comfortable positions while avoiding inconvenient clashes of common letters.  Another view is that the unusual arrangement was chosen to slow typists down to reduce mechanical issues with the early typewriters.  Either way, I doubt the early designers used 'computational optimisation techniques' to determine the best order of the letters.  The UK, German and US researchers, however, have and they claim they have developed a truly remarkable improvement for the tablet computing era.

The designers of the KALQ keyboard layout claim that QWERTY keyboards on tablets are really only capable ot delivering about 20 words a minute in the hands of a capable typist, but say that with training we should be able to attain speeds of 37 words a minute, admitting that this is with the assistance of an error correction algorithm.  I've seen my errors - I hope it's good.  The point is that tablet computers are going to be used increasingly in the workplace and for serious leisure use.  The ability to use them to write reports, blogs, novels and anything else you can think of is going to be a true acid test.  If we have to return to our laptops every time we want to write anything more demanding than a shopping list - and that can be challenging on a tablet - then their progress and adoption will be stymied.

The new keyboard will be available as a free download for Android devices soon, apparently. I'm keen to try it out, I tend to leave my laptop at home, but my Nexus is with me most of the time.  The ability to draft ideas for my books and to work up the next day's blog when I find myself with a few minutes to spare has to be a boon, having an intuitive keyboard optimised for tablets a force multiplier.  I may even draft a third, much belated edition of Rigger's World.  

The real limiting factor, then, will be the lack of a productive word processor for Android.  I know there are some that claim to be the real deal, but currently I'm left a little cold by what I've tried.  Perhaps the KALQ keyboard will be the tipping point - I doubt it, but here's hoping.  Maybe Microsoft will license the design for its Surface tablet so that it can be used without the clip on keyboard?

Anyway, once they launch the App I'll download it and give it a try.  Naturally there will be a learning curve - I'm up for that.  I just don't know where I'll tape the crib keyboard!

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Friday 26 April 2013

Parallel Lives chapter 89


Two and a half years later

Karen spotted Jack straight away, sat outside the Farnborough town centre cafe, newspaper folded in four. The brilliant, hot sunshine reflected off the sheen of sweat on his brow and the dark, black rimmed sunglasses as he looked casually around. She admired the younger haircut he sported, felt it suited him, as did the beard. But she still recognised him straight away; knew anyone half well trained looking for him would too.
Jack looked up, genuinely pleased to see Karen, the first time in over twenty months. Standing he pecked her on the cheek and signalled to the waitress inside that he was ready to receive the two coffees he had pre-ordered.
'You look well,' he opened. 'You look gorgeous' was what he wanted to say, but he needed her to wait until he had said his piece, had received what he had asked for. She flushed, nerves contributing as much as modesty.
'Thank you,' she replied, 'so do you.' The waitress flowed out of the cafe door, balancing the two broad, low cappuccino cups carefully. Karen and Jack sat as the cups were placed in front of them, Jack lifting his newspaper out of the way.
'How's the arm?' asked Karen. Jack raised the cup slowly, a slight tremble in the action.
'I expect I'll spill some before we're through,' he replied, smiling, 'but much better, thank you.' After a pause he continued, 'It was the best thing we did, getting me out of that hospital before they could get to me. I'm not convinced I'd be here today if we hadn't.' Through the dark lenses Karen could still tell the pain and truth his eyes were showing, she knew from the furrow above the thick frame he was wincing. The pause hurt both, allowed them to think about things that shouldn't have been and those that should but never would. Ever. Jack broke the silence while Karen sipped the hot, tart, coffee.
'The kids?' She lowered her cup.
'OK, miss you of course, never stop asking,' she answered, feeling the pain return.
'Alan?'
'Over. It was a mistake, I know that, a reaction.' Nothing more to say, nothing further to offer, it was history. Jack hadn't shown any emotion over that one. Karen looked around, surveyed the broad, hot pavement, the ground level car park beyond, the trees that separated the car park and the cafe.
'Why here?' she asked. Jack smiled.
'Why not? Did you know DTRU have set up shop near here, on the commercial site North of the town,' he asked back. Karen shook her head, incredulous.
'Are you mad?' she asked, 'They'll be looking for you.' Karen scanned around, expecting to see Government agents stood watching. Jack smiled, clearly amused.
'There's risk, sure, but one thing I've learned since joining the group is that the best place to hide is in plain sight. There are people watching us, but they work with me, and I doubt you would ever spot them,' he said, lifting his coffee cup up carefully. After another pause Jack re-opened the conversation.
'Did you bring it?' he asked. Karen nodded, reached down to the shopping bag she had placed carefully between her legs earlier and lifted out a crumpled paper bag. She placed it carefully on the table.
'I could lose my job over this, you know,' she said. Since the separation Karen had worked in the same hospital she had visited Sam Jackson in. Jack looked at, but did not touch, the loose package.
'I know,' he said quietly.
'And if they catch you?'
'They'll kill me. But if I don't do this,' said Jack, closing the distance between himself and Karen, lowering his voice, 'then the consequences will be much more terrible for all of us.
'We believe that the Government is gathering enough tactical advantage to wage war on America and win. We think that there are people inside DTRU and the Secret Service so fired up for a war that they will tell the Government anything that will persuade them to follow that path.
'I don't know if they are right or wrong about our capabilities, but I know a war will endanger you, the kids, me. And why? Because of ideological differences? A trade war? None of this is that important, we're coping quite well without our cousins.
'So I may die, that’s true, but I will almost certainly die along with those I truly love if I don't do this. It will strike a major blow to them, might just make them break step. We know they’re winning the intelligence battle and this’ll put a halt to that.' Jack realised that he had started to shake, the emotion of his cause rising through his veins. Karen was curious.
'Is Michael supplying you with this information?' she asked, aware that Michael had managed to retain employment with DTRU. Jack shook his head.
'No, they watch him like a hawk, or at least like to think they do. Anyway, they keep him away from the real sexy stuff these days. He's been working on water supply defence protocols since that botched terrorist attack on the Syrian capital, Damascus, two years ago, but he’s quietly recruiting scientists from within.' Karen reached out and placed her hand on Jack's, felt the shaking, trembling undercurrent that would haunt him for whatever was left of his life.
'Take care,' she said, standing.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011


The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence.  All rights reserved

Parallel Lives is published in paperback and as an eBook


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        Visit Project: Evil Website here                                        Visit DLF Website here

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Thursday 25 April 2013

Samsung Has Its Thinking Cap On

One of the side events I witnessed at the Gadget Show Live recently was a demonstration of a thought controlled roller skateboard, demonstrated by one of the founding fathers of Twitter.  Putting aside any inclinations towards scepticism - the thought control element could have been kidology, it may have been controlled by a remote control out of sight of the thousand or so spectators - it was shown to drive around the small arena, accelerating and decelerating as needed to negotiate the circuit.

It worked reasonably well - it was driven onto the main stage, down a ramp and around the front seats on three sides of the stage, with the driver crouching down and slapping kids on the palm as he swept past.  The concept is that you train the computer - a Windows 8 tablet on this occasion, presumably because the Gadget Show Live was sponsored by Windows 8 although it is understood that a Samsung Android tablet has been used in earlier iterations - using a headset that is sensitive to neuron activity in the brain.

It appears that each driver has to train the computer to recognise the way their brain generates neuron activity. We're all different, apparently, so consequently a pre-programmed device ready for fine tuning is out of the question.  This sounds remarkably similar to the issues and challenges overcome by the teams training rats to push buttons using brainwaves, as mentioned on my blog posting from the 10 March this year 'Leave the Mouse, Get a Rat.'  So, for brainwave controlled activities we're about as effective as rats.  That's reassuring.

Samsung have been working with MIT to develop this technology further  using a headset bristling with EEG measuring electrodes.  Think of a swimming cap with a poor man's dreadlocks and you get the idea.  Hooking up to one of their Galaxy tablets they've had a fair bit of success in selecting and launching apps.  As one commentator states, thought controlled technology will be a boon for those with mobility issues, and persons suffering with illnesses such as Locked In Syndrome may have some relief.  Looking beyond low hanging fruit such as that, it also presents a wealth of opportunities for those of us lucky enough to not be classed as disabled.

Controlling the TV and the DVR by thought control has to be an aim, although the resulting carnage in houses up and down the country needs to be considered as TV channels are changed in the literal blink of an eye.  Adding an extra input dimension to operating your computer has to be an objective, too.  As we demand more from our programs, the need to manipulate needs more than a virtual extra pair of hands.

Part of the tests carried out at MIT is using the thought control to manipulate a music player, getting the human equivalent of the lab rat to select, play and pause classical music tracks.  At present the accuracy of such tests is between 80% and 95%, which isn't perfect - I would expect around 98% accuracy using conventional controls by persons familiar with the software.  However it is probably a lot better than most would expect.  The researchers are very happy with the results and are looking at ways to make the headsets more convenient, such as replacing the current wet electrode requirement with a dry electrode.

It's early days, but if a viable range of controls are developed then maybe the sensors will be fitted subcutaneously, allowing computers and other devices to be controlled just by thought.  Like Google Glass, this technology has the potential to change the game permanently and my guess is the days of clunky rubber headgear are limited.  For this application, anyway. The technology will undoubtedly develop faster as the results improve, and I expect the progress to increase in leaps and bounds as the capability is realised.  And of course it's not just Samsung looking onto this technology, IBM have a research project working on it, so we're looking at some heavyweight research going on.

In my opinion, if any technology is worth thinking about, this is it.

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Wednesday 24 April 2013

Parallel Lives chapter 88


The wind and cold drove through Karen as she was led past the Puma helicopter, feeling the force of the down-draught and the consequent wind chill. Her scarf wrapped and unwrapped itself around her head a dozen times as she walked, following the man who had extracted her politely but firmly from the car.
He had asked questions about boats and America, none of which meant anything to her, and the noise of the rotors made clarification nigh on impossible. He led her to another man stood watching some commotion by the cliff edge; she looked again and realised it was Jack hauling John up. The second man turned as she approached, smiled and cupped his hand over her ear.
'Mrs. Howells, will Jack listen to you? All we want is Staples back,' he shouted, 'we're prepared to pay.' Karen took a step back, unable to comprehend what was happening. Why were they watching? Why not help Jack? The man was shouting in her ear again.
'Talk to him, tell him to let Staples go, we can cut a deal,' he said. Karen stared, unable to decide if the man was mad or blind.
'He's trying to save him, you fool, can't you see?' The man looked at her, looked at the eyes, started to wonder if he hadn't been misled. Suddenly, they both spun around, alerted by the noise, looking at the ginger haired man.
*
Jack couldn't understand what was going on, he was losing his grip on John and they were all standing talking, pointing, not helping. John had found a foothold and was beginning to climb up the face, allowing Jack to recover his stance on both legs.
Then he heard the sound, over the helicopter, over the wind, over the shouting and the screaming. The sound he had once loved, lived for; the sound he had subsequently feared, had caused him to scramble quaking in foxholes to hide from, had caused his friend’s head to explode in front of him.
The shot must have missed, because Jack knew he wouldn't have heard it if it had hit. He looked up, stared at beyond Karen and the two men, watching them spin around to face the ginger haired man, watched the two men run at and overpower him, push him to the ground.
*
Karen recognised the airforce man immediately, remembered the eye to eye contact in the car park that morning which now seemed like days, weeks, months ago. The two men had sprung, literally, and pulled the man down, dragging the gun away from him. She spun again, back to Jack, watched the red stain spread on his right shoulder, watched him realise he had been shot.
*
The cold had masked the pain, reflex had momentarily boosted his grip. But within two seconds Jack's right arm was useless, his grip gone. Looking first at the red stain, then downwards, he watched John slip loose.
*
John sensed the change, felt his hand slip further down. He tried to compensate, tried to hold onto the lifeless limb swinging above him but his footing failed, his weight dragging him down. He slipped beyond the fingertips, accelerated, watched rock pass within inches of his face. He struck a piece of jutting outcrop with his left pelvis, felt his body turn turtle, saw his arm smash and bend three times, saw the rocky base to the cliff face approach.
Lying at the base of the cliff, John felt the wet rocks cut into his face, the dribble and blood seep out of his mouth. The cold enveloped him, numbing the pain, easing the transition to darkness. Up above he heard shouts, his name called by voices he didn't recognise. Attempts to turn, to move at all, were futile. Not even his head would turn.
He hadn't expected to survive the fall, had realised when he had hung onto Jack's arm that if he didn't climb back up he would die. But he knew that wasn't the answer, not for him. It would just continue in some other situation, a new collection of memories, more nightmares to wake him screaming and soaked in sweat.
But he was here, at the foot of the cliff, immobile and bleeding. The voices were not those of the people he had known, had travelled down here with. Was this another reality, a slower death, a shorter fall resulting in a longer, fractionally longer, life?
John closed his eyes, felt the darkness surround him, allowed the voices to fade, fade away.


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Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011


The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence.  All rights reserved

Parallel Lives is published in paperback and as an eBook


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Tuesday 23 April 2013

All New Amazon TV

Just last week I posted my views on the future of TV programming. Part of that synthesis concluded that the future involves programming that is unshackled by schedules. I made the suggestion that the model being pursued by the likes of Netflix and Amazon, through its Lovefilm subsidiary, might be the way forward. I also suggested that unlike the BBC, which is actively forging a similar path with its iPlayer, Netflix and Amazon would be unlikely to contribute to the general content slush pile.

Well, once again, I was wrong. I should consider making a career of this. Anyway, no sooner had the virtual ink dried and Amazon announced that it had funded a slew of original TV shows. They have had independent producers and writers create a host of adult comedy and children's cartoons. The programmes were launched in the UK on Sunday through Lovefilm and a couple of days earlier in the States apparently via Amazon Prime.

I've only looked at one of the pilots, a comedy about four Republican Senators sharing a crib in DC, starring John Goodman with a cameo featuring Bill Murray. It wasn't great, but pilots are a tricky field as the writers and the actors attempt to understand the character dynamics. Perhaps it is simply as Hollywood.com suggested, though. They asked the simple question, why would Republican supporters want to watch a programme that made their politicians look stupid? Why would Democrats want to watch a programme about Republicans?  The question they didn't ask is why anyone would want to watch a programme about politicians.

But here's a couple of interesting points to fall out of the programming - first, Amazon want the viewers to report back on their views on the programmes. Most programming is judged by its viewing figures - I'm sure Amazon will consider them too, but this is looking more like the way books and CDs are rated. They might have some expertise in that department.  Second, it sounds like Amazon are hoping to provide a way for new writing talent to be found - extending the self publishing paradigm to TV writing. I'm not sure how they'll work, but I'll be dusting off a comedy that's sat on my hard drive for ten years or so.  Just in case.

The idea that TV scripting could follow a similar path to that forged by self published books is a compelling one. Obviously there is a cost element to be considered - ebooks technically only have to cost time, frustration and sanity. Even mediocre TV costs arms and legs. But an avenue for new writers to pitch their talents that breaks the industry mould - that's ballsy.

Take a look at the Amazon Originals, you may find something that works for you. And do provide feedback, especially if you enjoy the pilot you watch.

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Monday 22 April 2013

Parallel Lives chapter 87


Martin had seized the moment and had swung his car in front of the two parked cars before they even realised they had company. The approach down the lane without lights had been bordering on treacherous, given the conditions, but the tracker, linked to his mobile GPS unit, indicated that the hire car had been parked up. The look on Michael’s face when Martin leapt out of his seat, pistol aimed directly at him, was one that would remain in his memory for a long time. Surprise, anger and resignation all in a split second, not bad for one look, he thought.
Simon had followed Martin but had been vaguely aware of some activity near the cliff edge. Parking up near the road end of the parking area he and Gerald jumped out of the car, both wincing as the biting cold hit them. Simon pointed to the barrier, grabbing Gerald by the sleeve.
‘There’s someone over there,’ he shouted, pulling Gerald closer to ensure he heard him, ‘come on.’ The two men edged forward, leaning into the oscillating wind and snow flurries, shielding their eyes with an arm each. Simon pulled them up short once he had made out the struggle taking place on the cliff edge.
‘I think that’s Howells,’ he said as loud as he dared, ‘he must have heard us. Bloody helicopter probably gave us away,’ he rationalised. ‘The other guy, d’you reckon that’s Staples?’ he asked. Gerald was in no doubt, despite the swirling snow battering his head he recognised the hair colour and body build he had been studying all day. This was their man, absolutely.
‘That’s him,’ he called back. Simon edged a little closer, unsure about how this game was being played.
‘Jack. Jack Howells,’ he called, cupping his hands to his mouth, hoping the words wouldn’t be whipped way behind him, mingled with the sound of the Puma settling on the car park. Howells turned and raised Staples arm into the air, clearly controlling him. Staples tried to pull free, but Howells held on tight.
‘Bloody hell, he’s playing hardball,’ said Simon, ‘how close to the edge do you reckon they are? Gerald eased himself carefully forward a pace, reaching on tip-toes.
‘It’s not far, that’s for certain.’ Simon decided to negotiate, there wasn’t time to waste.
‘What do you want, Jack?’ he shouted. Jack wriggled with the still struggling Staples, shouted something back, but the words never reached Simon, the wind carrying them across the shoreline. Simon turned to Gerald.
‘Go back to the car, get the briefcase with the cash, bring it here, then get his wife if she’s with the others. He won’t want to leave without her if he can help it. Find out if they’re waiting for a boat below,’ he said. Gerald nodded his understanding and turned for the car. Simon edged a little closer.
‘Jack, I can offer you cash, you can have a free passage out, you can use the helicopter to take you to the continent if you want,’ he promised. Simon didn’t actually know if he was authorised to use the Puma for that kind of activity, but he’d sort it out if it came to the crunch. He could see Howells was shouting some kind of instructions, but he couldn’t hear them; he wasn’t at all sure Howells had heard him either. Reluctant to move too fast, Simon waited for Gerald to return with the case.
*
Karen stared at the loathsome man she had outwitted that morning in Manchester, despising the gloating look on his face, fearing the pistol he was waving at her. Michael spun around, his hands resting on the top of the dashboard.
‘Keep your hands where he can see them, I don’t think he would shoot but he looks edgier than usual. We’ll have to get out, there’s nothing we can do now, it’s over,’ he said, resignation in his voice. Karen slowly raised her hands and then lowered her jaw as she saw the black and green military helicopter appear from the direction she had last seen Jack walking towards, watched it spin one eighty, lower its undercarriage from the protruding side pods and land. The little shit outside had placed his left hand on the bonnet to steady himself as the force of the down-draught buffeted him and served to further obscure the events beyond it.
‘Just how important is this project of yours?’ asked an incredulous Alan, mirroring Michael’s lead with the hands. ‘I think there’s something you haven’t told us, this just isn’t right,’ he said, feeling the car shake under the combined buffeting of the natural elements and the Puma. Michael just shook his head.
‘This is way over the top, even for him. Truth is, I don’t know what strings he’s pulled, what lies he’s told, but you’ve got to believe me, I’ll do my best to sort this out.’
Out of the white haze a middle aged man in a business suit, thinning hair waving madly over his head, approached from around the side of the helicopter. He approached Martin, lay his hand on the arm holding the pistol, gently forcing it down to a safe position while speaking closely to Martin’s ear, then walked around the car. Opening the rear door, he leaned in.
‘Mrs. Howells. My names Gerald, would you come with me please?’
*
Jack was confused. His left hand was aching through gripping the icy metal, John was struggling to be free of his grip. The edge was much closer than he had realised and he felt totally unconfident about letting go of the barrier. He tried to shout to John, but he was out of it again, in a world of his own.
Then that man had appeared, from the direction of the cars, where it sounded like the helicopter had landed. He had shouted Jack’s name, he knew who Jack was. He had shouted something to Jack that sounded like he wanted to know if there was anything he could do. ‘Like help, that would be a good start’, thought Jack. But he had stood back, not venturing any further, shouting some stuff, but the words never made it. Another man had arrived with him, disappeared into the blizzard, returned with a case, probably a first aid kit, thought Jack and then he had left again.
Jack thought he heard the man ask if Jack wanted to use the helicopter, but he wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem to be making a lot of sense. He was starting to shake, the cold was running right through him and John was beginning to struggle harder. Then John slipped, sliding off the edge. Jack dropped to his knees, crunching onto the jagged, rough outcrop, clinging onto the barrier as hard as he could, aware that the change in position had weakened his grip. John was shouting, his hand forming a grip around Jack's wrist, his body banging against the coarse rock face. Jack strained against the weight pulling down on him, pulled himself up onto one leg outstretched, bracing his body. He heard his name called again, why won't they come and help? Pulling harder with his left hand he focussed on the man with the bag again, only to see two extra people, mere shapes. John was scrabbling now, which was alleviating some of the strain on Jack, but simultaneously causing his weight to shift, making maintaining a grip that much harder. Peering through the snow, cold and pain, Jack started to put a form to one of the three.
Karen.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011


The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence.  All rights reserved

Parallel Lives is published in paperback and as an eBook


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


                                                          Visit my Book Website here

        Visit Project: Evil Website here                                        Visit DLF Website here

        Follow me on Twitter  - @RayASullivan

        Join me on Facebook -  use raysullivan.novels@yahoo.com to find me