Paul Merkley
Bio
Co-Founder of Seniors Junction, a social enterprise working to prevent seniors isolation. Emeritus professor, U. of Ottawa. Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada. Founder of Tower of Sound Waves. Author of Fiction.
Achievements (1)
Stories (51/0)
Just a Minute
In a crisis, time slows down, and the mind speeds up, thank God, he reflected. Colonel Willis (Cool-Hand) Luce, six feet five inches tall and a shade under 290 pounds, commanded the launch room at US Stratcom, Offutt Air Force Base, Sarpy County, Nebraska. He was fond of tennis, not much for running around the back court, but with his wingspan he was a high brick wall at the net. Besides himself and the requisite lawyer, the room had two junior lieutenants at identical stations with keys to initiate a launch, two arrays of signal displays and monitors, one for Luce and his adjutant, the other for four analysts, two techies standing by to troubleshoot equipment, a linguist, a secretary, and a comms assistant. There was also a medic, placed there, Luce was pretty sure, for him. A widower, survivor of three heart attacks, veteran of two tours of duty in forward positions and a retired professor from the War College, he had accepted this position at the insistence of his former student the president, who had taken his course in Deterrence. He had obeyed the Commander in Chief, and insisted on the night shift, relishing the luxury of sleeping in after all the years of a military schedule. Following regulations there was a military chaplain. After all, you never knew, Luce mused.
By Paul Merkley7 days ago in Fiction
'Whose woods these are...'
It hit me, light snowfall underfoot, white, wooded air. Each snowflake is unique. How? Each a collection of one-D strings, each vibrating at its own frequency, each string responding uniquely to the Sound (the Logos). Why can't we see them? They're just one dimensional. No width, no thickness. How long are they? God alone knows. Every possible, imaginable length and more? Consciousness ensouls all, down to each string, which wants to further creativity, because of the Sound. Consciousness is the only cause. Each string impelled to vibrate.
By Paul Merkley3 months ago in Fiction
Why must people be so Litefractious? OR Keeping priorities straight
'I'm throwing a good-bye party for Anna. Just eight of us one meat entree one vegetarian.' "Can't. Jan's gluten free. Libbie's paleo plant based. Mark is New South Beach. Minimum six different entrees for the 8 guests."
By Paul Merkley6 months ago in Fiction
Potent potions
Tres megistos magnus Hermes Coram coram bamudores Nos laudamus formam formans Bamudamus Damudores Finishing the incantation, Sylvia reached for the paper she had written on, onion skin as prescribed, added a lock of her auburn hair that she had carefully cut, folded it into the paper and placed it in the beaker with the solution of tobasco sauce and lemon, also as instructed. Oddly, a small pink eraser flopped onto the counter. This woke up her Siamese cat, which immediately knocked it onto the floor.
By Paul Merkley6 months ago in Fiction
Rich Men North of Richmond
Times must be tough in the music business South of Richmond. No competent guitarists, singers, or lyricists, no barber to trim an unkempt beard. Childish guitar, weak melody, nonsensical message. Candy-eating welfare recipients starve morally superior drinking southern workers? Really? Old soul? Hasn't learned much. Makes true conservatives seem ridiculous.
By Paul Merkley9 months ago in Critique
Mysteries, Math, and Metaphysics
Do you know what 'Ekstasis' means? Neither did I until I met Philolaus, disciple and successor of Pythagoras. I am called Simmias of Thebes, but my name is not Simmias and I am not from Thebes; I am from Metapontum, the small paradise on the Ionian Sea, just a short distance from Taranto and Brindisi to the east at the end of the Via Appia, and a little farther from Croton to the south near the end of the Via Latina, part way to the island kingdom of Sicily.
By Paul Merkley10 months ago in History
Ardent Desire
No, the honor is mine, sir. You are the herald of his most Christian majesty the King of France. Now that your king has inherited all the earthly property and possessions of the happy memory of my illustrious Lord René, you need to understand everything about his state that a herald needs to know. The names, the references, the traditions. Everything! I was his favorite painter. This was my honor. This is my honor. I asked to meet with you here, before this painting, because it is my best piece and it explains so very much.
By Paul Merkley10 months ago in Art
Blockchain
Major mistrust means escrow, that's me. Many can plan a blockchain crypto heist, but how to split the proceeds? A and B rob C, then A robs B? No, so A, B, and C, rob D, money goes to escrow (me), A, B, and C assign armed guards to me in person, and I split up the proceeds, taking a reasonable cut for me. I'm held hostage until they get their money. I'm known. It's a good living. I make the blockchain to receive the heist. They give me blockchains to their own accounts. I'm in my office, three goons with pieces watching me, my own goon watching them, and my finger's on the button, watching the clock for the microseconds when the crypto vault is open. Huge score. All of us on the call. Counting 4, 3, 2, BLACKOUT! "Damn! Missed it!" Struggle in the dark. Shouting on the call. Lights on again. Two goons knifed, dead. My shirt bloody. My guy holds a gun on the third man. Two men on the call collar their third man. "Instructions?" One answers, "Replay, retire." My man shoots. Call ends. Idiots. Earlier blockchain. Brazil. Maximum mistrust means my retirement, no replay.
By Paul Merkley11 months ago in Fiction