Monday, June 25, 2018

(Advanced) Dirty John

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Dirty John is a true crime story focusing on the life and exploits of John Meehan. L.A. Times Journalist Christopher Goffard first heard of Meehan when he learned that the police were investigating a possible murder in Newport Beach. Upon investigating, Goffard discovered a bizarre web of deceit and abuse.

 The main focus of the story is Meehan's relationship with businesswoman Debra Newell, who he met via Internet dating, as well her immediate and extended family. The podcast deals with themes of abuse and manipulation, as well as the behaviours of those being abused.



Episode 1: The Real Thing

Debra Newell, an interior designer in Southern California, meets John Meehan on an over-50 dating site. His profile looks exciting: Anesthesiologist, divorced, Christian. She falls in love fast. But her children dislike him and warn her that his stories don’t add up. A psychologist advises Debra to set firmer boundaries with her kids, saying she has a right to be happy.

Dirty John - episode 1 - The Real Thing


Link to whole series on Wondery:

(Advanced) Private fireworks ignites community

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Fireworks

Wednesday, June 6, 2018

(Advanced Film / Lit SPIN) Clips from 2001 - A Space Odyssey



 Clip 1 - From Bone to Satellite

Using a bone as a weapon for the first time, an ape beats down the leader of another tribe to reclaim control of a watering hole. Triumphant, the ape tosses the bone into the air which transforms into an orbital satellite, jumping four million years of human history.

Clip 2 - Sketches

Bowman (Keir Dullea) shows Hal 9000 some sketches he's worked on and also discusses the mission.

Clip 3 - Hal 9000

The Hal 9000 computer refuses to obey an order from Bowman (Keir Dullea) by simply responding in monotone, "I'm sorry Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that."

Clip 4 - Beyond the Infinite

Having gone from Jupiter and beyond the infinite, Bowman (Keir Dullea) arrives in a strange bedroom with Louis XVI-style decor.

Clip 5 - The ending

Dave is near death. In front of him monolith shows up - some kind of step to a higher evolution level made by aliens. Dave dies and is reborn  - perhaps a metaphor for purity, harmony and love.

Sunday, June 3, 2018

(Student Writing C1.3) Science Fiction Story: "Proxima B – The Journey of Bucephalus", by Nils Afentoulidis


From Gabriel: I have highlighted some minor errors in bold and commented / suggested changes italicised and bracketed.


Chapter 1 – 37 years in space 

“Captain’s log, 10th of December 2067. Today, 37 years ago, the Bucephalus embarked on its long journey to Proxima B. Traversing the Jörmungandr nebula, the range ship’s sensors are severely limited and communications to mission control were lost three years ago when we first entered Jörmungandr. At 0200 our ship was hit by a meteor shower: 3 Injured, 1 Critical. Damages: Antimatter banks D21 through F47 Jettisoned for safety reasons after irreversible damage; minor damages to the ship’s hull. The affected Energy supplies were merely a redundant reserve but according to the informations currently on hand, we are nonetheless to arrive at our final destination on the first of January, 2069; just as initially planned by mission control. Cherenkov Out.” 

“Attention, All technical officers! Rendez-vous at 0525 in the mess. Repeat: All technical officers! Rendez-vous at 0525 in the mess!” roared the ceiling speakers in a distinct Russian accent. This was the first time I (have) noticed an accent in his (Captain Cherenkov's) voice and it can only mean one thing: Captain Cherenkov (he) is nervous. Perhaps even desperate. Before I leave however, it is crucial I finish inspecting the adjacent Antimatter banks lest we all get atomised merely due to an overlooked defect. 

(Present tense to past tense shift?)

“Torvald and Singh! Report immediately!” boomed the Speakers as I was dashing toward the mess. I felt terribly nauseous as the entrance to the mess came into sight. Was it my lack of sleep or my circulatory system giving up after a 35 minute Sprint in Magnetic safety boots? Or was it my anxiety of seeing an outraged Cherenkov? Probably all of the above. 

Running in a blurred, tunnel-visioned effort, I suddenly found myself on the cold metal floor of the corridor with something slender lying on top of me. “Oh my, please excuse me, Torvalds! We’re late, let’s hurry up” Singh said as she was helping me get back up on my feet. Exhausted and out of breath I didn’t bother replying and simply gave her a nod and followed her to the mess. 

“Your delaying of our meeting is Intolerable, you are endangering the entire mission. You will face severe-” scolded the Commander but (he) was interrupted: “enough, Commander Rohrschach! Let us start immediately” said Cherenkov to a grim faced Rohrschach as we were taking our seats. Still breathless from my long sprint, I took a moment to appreciate the interior of the mess in order to mentally calm down. It was the only place on the Bucephalus where the walls and ceiling were not just flat and white. The room was lighted by oil lamps (needless to say, the flames weren’t real but holographic; odourless and with adjustable luminosity), the walls and ceiling were clad with ebony and the banquet tables were made of hand-forged Damascus steel and so were the chairs. The mess could host had 40 people at once, just enough for the personnel of one shift. 

(Excellent descriptive passage Nils)

But for our captain, our commander, Singh, 5 other officers and me, the mess was empty. With all required attendees seated, we started by reporting the current status as well as our newest calculations and estimations. “Sir, Chief Engineer Torvald reports. The remaining antimatter banks are intact and fully operational. Our maintenance drones will have repaired the ship’s hull by 0800. ” “Sir, Flight Surgeon Singh reports. The damages to the Antimatter (sometimes you spell with cap and sometimes without - be consistent) banks have caused a brief power spike, ending the lives of 30 Cryo-passengers. Apart from this temporary malfunction, our medical service drones report no permanent damages to the Cryo-chamber and its remaining passengers.” “Sir, Commander Rohrschach: Our sensors have detected a massive barrage from outer space heading into our general direction. Estimated time of impact: 29th of December. We need more energy for our thrusters to reach the next moon for shelter.” 

I was so focused on our meeting that I had forgotten about my nausea but now, hearing Rohrschach’s menacing tone and his sharp German accent, I was feeling it again and in to its fullest extent. I had a brief (vague) understanding of where we were and which celestial bodies were within a 30-day range from our current position. None, to my knowledge… “The closest solid orb is 42 days away from our current position… at our current speed that is” Cherenkov uttered, followed by a sigh. “Sir, with all due respect” I said, “we would have to increase our velocity by at least 120%. At this speed, our machines will be far less efficient than they are now. Having lost most of our antimatter reserves, we won’t have enough energy to make it to Proxima B, within the next two decades…” Rohrschach stood up to tell me to calm down before I continued speaking, but I couldn’t help it: “we would have to reduce our remaining energy consumption to 2% of what we are using now. This is madness!” I screeched as my voice failing me. “Chief Engineer, you are dismissed! Come and see me on the bridge at 0745 for a recap of this meeting. Panic is the last thing we can afford in a time like this.” Cherenkov ordered. Nerve-wracked, I left the room and stumbled towards the restroom, where I finally disgorged... 

The next thing I knew was that I woke up in sickbay with Singh syringing me with Stimulants and intravenously infusing concentrated nutrients into my body. When my sight was clear again, she gave me my holographic communicator. With a sad expression on her face, she told me that my meeting with the Captain was cancelled and that I was to look at this recording instead it. 
I switched on the communicator and it projected Cherenkov’s bearded face into mid-air, his head as large as a Swiss ball. This time he was calm and without a discernible accent. He was assigning me my work orders. 

Singh and I were staring at each other in horror. Just as I had feared, I was assigned with the task of shutting down the rotational gravity generator as well as the life support systems (except for the bridge and the cryo-chamber). Singh was worried about the additional psychological stress imposed by zero gravity combined with the need to use breathing devices leading to personnel burning out. 
I was more concerned about the fact that our crew lacks experience in zero G and our indoor drones not being calibrated for zero G either. Furthermore, most of our active personnel will have to enter cryo-stasis to save energy and naturally, a decrease in manpower at an unvaried total work volume will result in an increased error rate. I didn’t mention this to Singh because, as Cherenkov pointed out, panic is the last thing we can afford right now. 


(Student Writing C1.3) Science Fiction Story: "The Girl I Met In An Alien Toilet " by Mare Vandeborne


I close my eyes. It’s all there, inside of my head. The fog following the contours of the grass. The sudden cold that bites into my face. Leaves falling down onto the concrete streets, lying there sad and lifeless. I perfectly remember every detail about the morning we found the ship, but more importantly, her.

No sooner had I finished my unusually stale cup of morning coffee than my phone rang. I quickly finish my coffee, burning my tongue, and pick up the phone. 
“Hi. Lance?” 
“Yes yes, I’m here, what is it?” 
“Um, well...we’re having a bit of a situation here, ground G8. You need to get over here ASAP.” 
“Yeah, sure, I was about to leave when you called. What’s the situation?” 
“It’s kind of hard to explain, Lance.” 
“Why are you being so mysterious, Olivia?” 
“Just get over here, okay Lance? You’ll see when you get here.” 
“All right, fine, I’m on my way.” 

She abruptly hangs up the phone without having said goodbye. I’m worried. Why didn’t she say anything. She can’t just call me up every morning without any explanation and summon me to the gate. This better be serious or I will be having a chat with her later. I can’t really fire her seeing that she’s my daughter. Not that I was ever a real father to her. 

I grab an apple and leave the kitchen pod. I get into the entrance zone. Only Olivia and Sam’s suits are gone, the rest of the crew is still asleep. I eat my apple as fast as I can, I know now that I’ll be hungry for the rest of the morning but eating this early in the day makes me feel sick. Having accepted the hunger to come I suit up and leave the base. 

“Good morning Aseralt and welcome to the first day of the Asran fall this year. Fall 2438 was good but this year’s is predicted to be even better. The weather’s lookin’ rough folks so don’t forget those extra sweaters today! It is 7 o’clock and here’s the news with...” I turn the radio down. I still don’t get why this guy gets paid for this stupid radio station. There’s only a thousand people here, nobody cares about the century 2000 hits. Another stupid idea from the government I suppose. All of this money could be used for research but instead they spend it on making sure every single person on Aseralt hates pre-revolutionary music. 

As I approach the entrance point for ground gate I slow down. Olivia’s standing next to the bench, waiting for me. I park the car and rush over to her. She seems nervous, almost scared. 
“Finally” 
“I came here as fast as I could Olivia. Now can you please tell me what the problem is?” 
She rolls her eyes at me and starts walking. I follow her and start pondering why she hates me so much that she can’t even speak to me as a normal human being. She was born a few years before the revolution. Her dad and I had no choice but to send her to boarding school. She’s never going to forgive us for it. 

Suddenly she stops and goes to the side of the path making way for me to pass her by. I continue walking and stop when I see it. My heart starts to beat faster and I am having trouble breathing. 
“Pretty crazy isn’t it.” 

This is amazing, mesmerizing, revolutionary. Ground G8 has always been deemed the boring one. A scientist-wannabe ground. Who would have thought that of all the places where this could have landed it would land on a boring field. This is not just any piece of metal. This is a ship. And it is most certainly not human-made. The radars probably didn’t pick up on it because of the heavy rainfall last night. It is seriously damaged, clearly this was not safely landed but chaotically crashed. 

“Have you been inside?” 
“No, not yet, we waited for you.” 
“Well, let’s go then, what are we waiting for.” 

We get out our flash lights and carefully walk towards the ship. The actual door isn’t open so we enter through a hole made by the crash. The ship has only one level with two rooms. You would think that alien ships are huge and incredibly advanced, but this one is small, compact and well used. There are strange markings on the walls and papers. We look around the rest of the ship and see nothing. It is empty; no people or signs of life. As if the ship hasn’t been entered for ages. 

I go up to the little room in the middle of the circular ship. Perhaps this is the powerhouse or a storage room, there are several doors to it, each one has different markings. I open the door closest to me and upon pointing my flash light into the small room I discover that it is merely a toilet. I guess aliens need those too. I let out a small laugh and Olivia and Sam look at me. They come over and burst out in laughter. All of a sudden we hear a sound, something bumping against metal. We all stop moving. We look at the door where the noise is coming from. Having looked at each other and silently agreed that I will open the door we creep over. I put my hand on the door handle. Sam gets out his shooter. Olivia counts down with her fingers. 3, 2, 1… I open the door and see her. 
Her eyes are open wide and have fear written all over them. She’s curled up in a ball, breathing heavily, bruises all over. This is human, what happened to her? 

“Do you speak English?” 
No answer. Olivia pushes me aside and goes near her. The girl bursts out in tears and falls into her arms. I guess it it true what they say about women. They’re easier to trust with their soft skin, gentle smiles and unconditional love for those who deserve it. I’ve never been a part of that group. Born an orphan before the revolution (Lance). Doomed because I was different from others. 
“Lance!”, Sam yells, breaking my train of thought. 
“Yes Sam, what is it?” 
“We should inform the Asran Circle,” 
“Yes, yes, of course. Um...I’ll go. Um..I’ll go do that, yeah.”, I stutter. 
“Are you okay?” 
“Yes Sam, I’m fine.” 

I leave the ship and start walking in a slightly elevated pace towards the car. Her eyes, I can’t get them out of my mind. Never have I seen so much fear and pain in one person’s eyes. Not even during the revolution; not on any of the battlefields, not in any of the mother’s eyes when I told them, time and time again, that their son, daughter or husband didn’t make it. 

I get to ground C0 and barge in through the front door. The man at the front desk looks up at me with a frown. 
“What is it, Keller? You’ve proved another one of your theories?”, he chuckles. 
“Very funny, Esra. And no. Olivia discovered something in the gate this morning.” 
“Oh my, are you sure it’s not just an Asran tree? I can’t imagine anyone in the G section knowing the difference between a normal tree and, well, anything.” 

He’s referring to the time I found an ancient tree from Earth. No one believes me and I’ve been made fun of ever since so I’m fairly used to it by now. I still stand behind what I said though. It was there, I’m sure of it; an actual Earth apple tree. I took one of the apples and took it to the lab, the results were conclusive, it was Earthian. When I took a team from section A there the next morning the tree was gone. As if it had disappeared into thin air. But the apple I took was still there. I’m trying to use it to plant a new tree. So far not much has happened but I’ve been doing research on Earthian soil and I will prove them all wrong when I finally figure out how to make it grow. 

“No Esra, it’s not a tree. It’s much more important than that. A ship crashed in the gate. Coordinates are KYS-739. Go ahead, have a look with the satellites.” 


He starts typing with a look on his face ready to start laughing at me. Not gonna happen Esra, not this time. He stops and stares at the screen, he refreshes the system. He picks up the phone - not taking his eyes off of the screen – and dials a number.