Welcome to a special, only-once-in-four-years edition of Fantasy Friday! Every week, you are invited to write and post anything having to do with fantasy, science fiction, etc., right here in the comments: a true tale of geekdom, a bit of a story you’re trying to write, a review of anything from the Spiderwick Chronicles movie to the latest ghost photography you’ve spotted on Flickr. Our optional theme today, of course, is Leap Day! If you’re so inclined, tell us something appropriate, whether it’s a paean to Quantum Leap or a thoughtful discourse on interstitial calendar possibilities. At 5 p.m. PST, if we’ve got at least ten participants, we’ll choose the day’s most entertaining writer and PayPal them $10 on the spot. Go start your weekend off with a cold one on us! And make sure it has lots of hops. (Hops! Get it? Like leaps… ah, never mind.) Minors, make it a root beer.
1 • Nick Mamatas said:
February 29th, 2008 at 12:54 pm, permalink
I’ve been asked recently about experimental writing and what it is, so here is a little number I whipped up to help writers.
HOW TO WRITE EXPERIMENTALLY
For the writer who wishes to explore the limits of the written word, the last ninety years or so of aesthetic innovation has created a tradition of its own. What follows is a brief survey of experimental writing techniques.
One thing to do is use technology to play with words in a way that undermines the authority of the author. For example, you can use babelfish for translates various lines of text, for example, in Greek, so that a language of the ideologies of the Western thought of townsmen names, and runs then the result behind via the same computer program and it publishes the this result.
2. Make a numbered list of texts.
Transgressive fiction is also popular and I’m going to fuck my father.
“Plagiarizing from debased forms of fiction, like pulp SF, is also useful,” Try’z explained, but it was too late, as this habit city-burning has now become a habit with me more enchaining—and infinitely more debased–than ever was opium to the smoker, or alcohol to the drunkard. I count it among the prime necessaries of my life: it is my brandy, my bacchanal, my secret sin. I have burned Calcutta, Pekin, and San Francisco. In spite of the restraining influence of this palace, I have burned and burned. I have burned two hundred cities and countrysides. Like Leviathan disporting himself in the sea, so I have rioted in this earth.1
1 To avoid ethical dilemmas, you may wish to footnote the texts from which you plagiarized. Shiel, M. P. The Purple Cloud.(1901) Online: http://www.fullbooks.com/The-Purple-Cloud.html Accessed 29 February 2008. You may also want to put some creative work in the notes, such as another reference to how I am going to fuck my father.
2 • Michael Gordon said:
February 29th, 2008 at 12:55 pm, permalink
I like this topic. here’s one concept I came up with:
To a lot of people the calendar tax sounded like a windfall. Who wouldn’t give up February 29 to save a few hundred dollars each year? I think they just assumed it was some sort of clerical thing, like Daylight Saving Time. You know, just boosting productivity, that’s all. I don’t think anyone really noticed a difference when they went to sleep on February 28 and woke up March 1. Not for the first year anyway.
The second year people started waking up sore and tired, even if they tucked in nice and early the night before. But everyone has bad nights’ sleep sometimes, so no big deal, right?
The third year I woke up black and blue. I know folks who couldn’t get out bed because of bone fractures or pulled muscles. The official reports said it was just flu-like aches, not actual broken bones, but we know what we felt.
The fourth year people disappeared. People go missing, they said. People leave their husbands and wives and children all the time. We are looking into it, they said. They’re looking alright. A black van has been sitting outside my apartment for two days.
It’s 11:56 pm, February 28. I’m sitting watching the second hands click achingly toward my stolen future. I don’t know what’s coming, but this year I’ll be ready for it.
3 • Rob Davies said:
February 29th, 2008 at 12:55 pm, permalink
Well, I grew up on Lovers Leap Avenue in Lynn, Massachusetts, but no one has been able to fully explain to me the origin of the name. Of course, there is the old story of a young Indian couple from warring tribes falling in love and choosing to leap to their deaths together instead of being apart, but this tale appears all over the country.
I forget what it says on the street sign, but I have seen it punctuated in city documents as Lover’s, Lovers’ and Lovers, which means some municipal employee is changing the story dramatically with his every whim.
4 • K. Tempest Bradford said:
February 29th, 2008 at 1:27 pm, permalink
Michael, I really like that
5 • NewroticGirl said:
February 29th, 2008 at 2:15 pm, permalink
Leap… well… Falling…
There is a moment
between balance and imbalance
when you’re standing on tiptoes
waiting to fall.
6 • Ellen Denham said:
February 29th, 2008 at 2:19 pm, permalink
On leap day on the island nation of Oongaboonga, all of the monkeys, from the old grey-furs to the babies, go cliff diving. No one has been able to establish how the monkeys know it is leap day, as they do not keep a calendar in any recognizable form. It is quite a spectacle, as has been documented by one Professor A. Thwidgett. They do not simply run to the edge of the cliff and dive off into the blue waters below, but gather in groups to take hands, feet, or entwine tails before jumping.
This does not only happen within family groups. Monkey families who have spent the past four years in a terrible fight will grasp each others’ tails and jump in a long line, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the popular children’s toy, “Barrel of Monkeys.” Other more creative individuals may assemble into a ring or even a double helix. In 2004, no less than twenty-five monkeys jumped in the shape of a dodecahedron, with babies participating by clinging to their mother’s backs.
After Professor Thwidgett made his long-term study of this behavior public in 2001, eco-tour companies have wanted to make this fascinating destination a tour stop for February 29. Unfortunately, Oongaboonga is so remote that it only has one freighter visit per year to bring supplies to the small community of inhabitants. This freighter is captained by Angus McSomething, who refuses to set sail in February due to personal superstitions. It appears that this unique destination will not become a tourist haven any time soon, but keep your eyes open for February 29 of 2012.
7 • Clint Harris said:
February 29th, 2008 at 4:09 pm, permalink
So, how does it calculate if I break a mirror on a Leap Day?
Leap Day should be embraced and celebrated. It happens less frequently than any of the major commercial holidays. What better excuse to go out and put oneself into debt than to have some festivities attached to it?
Well, probably because of our reliance on technology. This morning I was driving to work, listening to the radio. I heard no fewer than two Smashing Pumpkins songs in the span of twenty minutes. It wasn’t like they were playing a two in a row either.
Apparently the station calendar for the rotation schedule fouled up because it suddenly thought today was March 1st. So the DJ was accepting nothing but requests throughout the day because there was no playlist. Odd that a human being couldn’t remember that they had just played Bullet with Butterfly Wings seven minutes before playing “Tonight Tonight.”
Proof positive that nanobots have infected our brains. Y2K has nothing on Leap Year this year. The little buggers were not equipped to handle Gregorian/Julian Solunar units of measurements. And so we get to hear Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness over and over again. Just like it’s 1996.
It all makes sense after watching LOST last night. Every. Bit. Of. IT. Desmond is bouncing back and forth between 2004 and 1996. The year Smashing Pumpkins made that album!
The Resistance is communicating to us through episodes of LOST! Soon, the Iron Empire of the Elderbeasts will be toppled. Or topless! Even better.
How’s that for a leap?
8 • John O said:
February 29th, 2008 at 4:29 pm, permalink
As a veteran Lostie, I have to admit that the fact that Desmond was leaping from between leap years (and that this is also a leap year) never occurred to me. Nice notice.
9 • Berry said:
February 29th, 2008 at 4:54 pm, permalink
Dear Contributor,
Although we appreciate your interest in The Quasi-Stellar Objectificator, we regret to inform you that “Particle or Wave: A Photorealistic View of All Things Cosmological” may not have grabbed our attention. However, you had been invited to submit another manuscript during our next reading cycle, which is scheduled to open three months prior to today.
Continua(lly) yours,
The Staff
Pop the Quark Press
10 • Abby said:
February 29th, 2008 at 5:14 pm, permalink
Do you ever wonder how Santa experiences time? Is Christmas just one day for him, or does he leap over the entire rest of the year and have a year-long Christmas?
11 • Texhot said:
February 29th, 2008 at 5:14 pm, permalink
From: Earth Media Moderator
To: Overmanager
Re: Clock Issues
We counted on them not to notice. That’s why we put on the extra day, as camouflage–they function in linear time, they shouldn’t have noticed! But first we had the apologists yammering about God operating outside of time. You brass started to get antsy. Verne, Roddenberry, Bellisarius, Rowling. Now these Lost guys.
We here in EM know time is most analogous to a Project Runway challenge–scattered pieces, waiting for someone who has the wit to pick the up and make something.
But I could have sworn they weren’t smart enough to realize that.
I say we give ‘em a Deal they accept–or go straight to reruns.
12 • Michael Gordon said:
February 29th, 2008 at 5:16 pm, permalink
It’s almost February 30 and I still have no plans. I’m usually planning for months in advance. Last year I went sky diving. I had planned to do it the year before, but it was impossible to book. It’s just one of those things people won’t normally do except on NoConsequa. I admit I’m one of those people. Skydivers will tell you how safe it is yadda yadda yadda, but the thought of landing headfirst on the ground still scares the crap out of me.
Which is why I was so psyched about the whole thing. And I didn’t even die.
I’ve died three times on NoConsequa, once without even deserving it. The first time I was a freshman in college, a real nerd and completely unimaginative. So I got stone. I mean, really stoned. I’d done pot a few times, so I started in familiar territory. But by the end of the day (you’ve never seen so many drug dealers out in the morning as on NoConsequa) I was wasted on cocaine and heroin and some hobo’s homemade whiskey. I’m not really sure if I overdosed or not, I couldn’t find anyone the next day who’d been partying with me. It didn’t really matter anyway, I woke up with vivid memories of being high and no after effects.
The second time I died because some nut decided to live out his sniper fantasy. Now there’s a great example of consequences, even on NoConsequa. The bastard thought he would get off scott free since everyone would be fine the next day. No such luck. 5-10 years on possession of an illegal firearm (he bought the gun in January) and a massive civil trial for emotional distress. I’m still upset about that day. I had awesome plans set up and some idiot goes ahead and shoots me at 10:30 in the morning.
The third time was small stuff. It was last year, after the skydiving and I had gotten a bit drunk. I was being a little overly aggressive with a girl at a club—I know they say the “No Consequences” doesn’t apply to interpersonal interactions, but hell, I was smashed and I knew I would never see her again. Turns out she had a boyfriend. He ignored the Cardinal Rule as well—I won’t go into the gritty details, but the last thing I remember is that broken pool cue coming at me. Next morning it was March 1 and all was well in the world.
I don’t know what I’ll be doing this year, but I’ve been thinking: it’d be kind of fun to cheat death again. Anyone up for swimming with the sharks?
13 • Shadodottir said:
February 29th, 2008 at 6:24 pm, permalink
“Oh, to be twenty-nine again!” sighed February.
“Just march on out of here!” shouted the month behind her. “Keep it moving or this will take all year!”
In the distance, someone whispered, “May be…”
14 • John O said:
February 29th, 2008 at 6:31 pm, permalink
Was it June? I love her.
15 • John O said:
February 29th, 2008 at 6:44 pm, permalink
We popped in from hyperspace already within our target solar system – over a hundred of us – wheeled into the gravity well of a gas giant and shot toward our destination planet, one of the tiny, rocky, interior ones. When we were close enough to scan it, I was pleased – I like a little more land, a half-and-half land/ocean mix, but this would do. All that water would make some interesting weather and insure whatever sentient creature evolved from it (all sentient life ever recorded has come from oceans) would be hardy and complex. For our assignment this wasn’t necessary, strictly speaking, but who wants to spend fifty thousand years enduring a boring planet on a failed mission? Because fifty thousand years, give or take, is how long we’ll be needed. Sentient beings either evolve beyond the need for us in that amount of time, or destroy themselves.
Inevitably.
We are now close enough to tell this will be a dual-sex planet, and we adjust accordingly. One of our most experienced leaders assumes female identity and declares herself Mother Earth. She’s far ahead of me, but I can see her spansuit shred in the upper atmosphere and she wills her molecules out into a globe-misting spread. The degree of difficulty that displays makes me proud to be a Legend Seed. One day I will be that skilled. More importantly, the sentient beings of this world will come to regard their planet as feminine, and will, in the deepest recesses of their primitive brains, no matter how far above that they reach, feel moved to love and respect it.
A new kid, off my shoulder, is going to do something silly. All the ones fresh from the academy do something silly – I did – he will too. I am not disappointed. Unable to achieve nearly the molecular spread of our leader, he rockets down to and blankets an island in this planet’s northern hemisphere, assuring that the children raised there will hear about something called leprechauns. Wee folk? Rainbows? Pots of gold? I wonder how long he’s been cooking that one up.
My best friend – a real fan of the ocean worlds – does one of her specialties: Atlantis. It’s a cautionary tale plus a quest, and will spur our beings toward exploration and humility – nice job. We are falling faster now:
The Grim Reaper.
The Fountain of Youth.
The Philosopher’s Stone.
The Legends fall from the sky and I see we are going to be heavy on hope and quests, light on cautionary tales, so I aim for that continent beneath the leprechaun kid – better to keep an eye on him – and decide on something bloodthirsty, something that roams the night, sucking the life force from the unwary, something to keep people sensibly home and in their beds. I will be Vampire. But first I want to see something. The entity that is my mate in dual-sex incarnations will do something spectacular – she always does – her creations are studied back at the academy. She hits an upper jet stream and her molecules fly out over the entire largest continent and all land surrounding – to which I can only say, “Wow,” and becomes…
Inwardly, I am laughing so hard it’s hard to keep course. Giant, magical, flying, fire-breathing lizards? If anyone can pull that off, she can, but as I shed my spansuit and let my molecules fly I have a final thought:
Dragons. That’s the silliest thing I ever heard of.
16 • Shadodottir said:
February 29th, 2008 at 6:50 pm, permalink
Dang. Glad I got here before the Legends fell.
17 • Chuck said:
February 29th, 2008 at 7:09 pm, permalink
…
“Alright. You first — tell me exactly what you did.”
“Well … uh, sir… I set off a massive series of ground level nuclear detonations to slow down the Earth’s spin — just by a smidge, ya know — to cure the leap year problem.”
“Cure? Problem, you say?”
“Um…yeah. Yes, sir. It sounded like a good idea at…”
“Shut up. Now — you. Tell me exactly what you did.”
“I … uh … I set off a completely different series of nuclear detonations to place the Earth into an orbit ever-so-slightly closer to the Sun, with the aim of giving us a shorter trip around the Sun.”
“Hoo-boy. And — let me guess — the purpose of this was to ‘cure’ the leap year problem.”
“Actually, I was going to say ‘fix.’”
“Shut up! I have another question for you two — but I suspect I already know the answer — did you two even think to consult with one another, or me before you embarked on these public works projects?”
“no”
“WHAT?”
“NO, SIR!”
“And — tell me — what exactly have your unfortunately synchronized projects left us with?”
“I can handle that one. By my calculations, we’ll … um … we’ll have progressively shorter calenders every year.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Earth is dropping into the Sun, sir.”
…
18 • Aniko said:
February 29th, 2008 at 7:49 pm, permalink
When I was growing up, I always thought it would be cool to be born on a Leap Day. It would be at least one thing that would be special about you, something people would know you by even if you had no chance of ever getting into the Positively Perfect Physique Team or the Brains of the Future Club. Oh, she? She was born on Feb 29, brats. She only gets one birthday every four years. Totally nucular!
So when it was time to produce my replacement, I requested the birth date Feb 29 from the Ministry of Birth Authorizations. They directed me to their Department of Astrologically and Numerologically Auspicious Dates, where a friendly intern told me my request was unusual but permissible under the regulations. But as they were awfully busy recalculating the new astrology charts now that Pluto had been reinstated as a planet in good standing and they hadn’t seen their superiors or any paid staff since vacations started in April, he asked me to help by working out my exact age for them. I had to hurry too if I wanted to catch the deadline for next year.
I turned in the papers the next day, hoping to hear from them within a week. Three weeks and nine service request later I did, but it was bad news.
Dear Prospective Parent, the message said. Your application was reviewed on May 3 and referred for special investigation. Our records indicate that your Days-to-Date Age (DTDA) is more than what your calculations show, and a correction request was placed on May 10. After the completion of the correction process on May 15, your case was transferred to the Available Dates Department, which indicated that unfortunately Feb 29 was no longer available. The only open date for next year is Feb 14. Please indicate if this is acceptable, or if you desire to wait for the next Feb 29.
My heart broke. Feb 14? The darkest, most sinister day on the calendar? Of course it’s open—no one wants it! According to tradition, it’s the day of the evil imp Cupid, who flies around disguised as a pudgy naked baby and shoots arrows into hapless humans, infecting them with an incurable disease called Amor Romanticus and an inexplicable obsession with the color red. AR, as we know, is the main cause of depression, suicide, homicide, and unauthorized reproduction. Some say there’s a prophecy that a diabolical creature called the Beast will be born on this day and she will bring about the end of our current era of goodness and perfection. But that’s just silly superstition.
I got a couple of Margaritas from the cocktail machine so I could think more clearly. There was an attachment with the message that highlighted the error in my DTDA figure: I was ten days older than what I had stated. How could I mess up so badly? I quickly redid the multiplication on my wrist computer and I got the same thing as before. Those idiots at the MBA—
Damn, the Leap Days. I had forgotten to add them. There had been ten of those since I was born.
Well, anyway. Waiting four years was not an option, so after getting a few more Margaritas and watching the latest irreality show in my teleroom (“Does This Chair Make Me Look Short?”), I decided I’d take it. I wanted a special day—well this one was even more special, and it would work just fine.
19 • Stanislaw Lemming said:
February 29th, 2008 at 8:08 pm, permalink
In honor of Leap Day, and on behalf of the Lemming Insurance Institute, I thought I’d use today to clear up a common misconception: lemmings do not commit mass suicide on leap day or any other day.
Turns out the widely held lemming prejudice is due to a Disney film, White Wilderness, where the crew loaded a handful of lemmings onto turn tables, spun them, and forced them to leap into a foamy abyss.
Aforementioned lemmings were purchased from Inuit children and forced to perform in violation of union rules and without the aid of stunt doubles.
Said action was then covered up in the guise of mass hysteria attributed to feeble minded rodents.
It is unclear if Uncle Walt was aware of the chicanery. But the fact that the film was filmed in Calgary, where there is no sea, should have been a clue that something was amiss.
Please contact me to join the class action lawsuit.
Stop the madness.
20 • John O said:
February 29th, 2008 at 8:30 pm, permalink
I’m now in love with Aniko. I also have a non-sexual crush on Michael Gordon.
21 • The Editors said:
February 29th, 2008 at 9:41 pm, permalink
Wow — Leap Day sure struck a chord in the fantasists’ collective imagination, eh? Good stuff all around!
The winner is Michael Gordon, who gave us two memorable SF Leap Day scenarios — the first a day with serious consequences, the second a day with no consequences!
We’re also declaring a runner-up this week: John O, whose “Fall of the Legends” is too great not to recognize. John, we’re going to send you a Fantasy Magazine gift bundle.
Both winners, drop us a line at prime@prime-books.com and give us your contact info!
22 • Berry said:
March 1st, 2008 at 7:12 am, permalink
All the way around–major props. This blog is loaded with gifted, talented, witty folk.
23 • John O said:
March 1st, 2008 at 9:10 am, permalink
Unfortunately, I’m having problems connecting to your server – could one of you try mailing me? I’m at Irewrite@bellsouth.net
24 • Michael Gordon said:
March 2nd, 2008 at 11:04 am, permalink
In true Oscar-spirit I must now drone on with my many thanks to the editors (thanks Tempest for the initial feedback), to the other contributors and their awesome entries (and John O’s asexual crush. I’m blushing sans emoticon), to my wife (for helping come up with an ending to the second piece), to King Solomon and the Raven King (for the idea of a government taxing people’s time), to my parents (for no other reason than that they were both born on one of the many leap days in the Hebrew calendar) and of course, to Groundhog’s Day.
Uh oh, the music is playing…