Day 1, am, 1116 words

My plan is working! Hah. My early youthful exuberance! The plan: write 2000 words per day. Up early in the morning (4:30 ish), go for 1000 words. Home from work in the evening, after 9 pm, another 1000.

This morning: 1,116 words.

OK, here is an excerpt from the prolog:

After two weeks of various orbits, the results came in. The planet not only could sustain life, it was currently doing so. But, the precursors to intelligent life, as understood by the ship, were also there. A dead-end.

They were preparing to leave orbit, when the maintenance biologist and the maintenance geologist asked to see the captain of this cycle. This was not unusual. Often the crew wanted a shot, just for the sake of staying near a planet, and not sliding through featureless space. Maq and Jenzi were allowed an audience, as Hedly really didn’t want to head back into space either.

Hedly allowed an audience. Maq and Jenzi came in, visibly excited. Jenzi was the maintenance geologist, responsible for the equipment that mapped the topology, and conducted the tomography that revealed what was occurring beneath the surface. “Captain!”, she began, “please look at these calculations.”

Hedly just looked at her instead. An easy thing to do, given her loose fitting toga. After staring for a moment, he said “Just tell me. You know I can’t understand all that.”

Maq interrupted. “Hedly, you were maintenance geologist last cycle, and maintenance biologist before that. So, we know you can read these. You need to look at them; you are the only one that can authorize a revisit.”

Now, this piqued his interest. Revisits were rare. “Whaddya got?”

He leaned forward and began to absorb the information, finally seeing it. He then asked for the biology projections. After 20 minutes of silence, he leaned back, clasped his hands behind his head, and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“OK. We’ve got a month planet side to verify these projections. Shore leave for everyone!” Maq and Jenzi gave whoops of excitement and pride. “Very good job”, said Hedly. “That took some smarts, and some imagination. But its there for sure.” They left the captain’s cabin elbowing each other and beaming.

Hedly sat back again. The tomography was subtle, and there was nothing sure yet. But, if the projections were correct, the magma and solid core patterns of movement were moving toward a chaotic period which would be followed by periods of intense geologic activity, and ultimately the poles would shift. If the shift were abrupt enough, the planet would tilt dramatically, and most of the life on this planet would disappear in of those mass die-offs some planets were prone to in their early formation.

Which would make this planet a seed planet.

So, that is the prolog. Next we have an excerpt from Chapter One, Cielo sin Sol:

He stood on the plain, improbably tall and nearly as thin as his spear. His spear was ready and easy at his side, an accessory, or accouterment, not a burden.
Listening to the sounds of ancestral drums in his mind, he pondered the fact they were gone. Gone in more ways than one. They were gone in the most irreversible manner possible. They had, in fact, never been.
Never been. An eyebrow raised incrementally. Never been. He felt hollowed out, like the non-existent drums. Hollowed out, skin taut on his frame. Stretched and tied. Waiting. Someone was to come and play him. Not a musician. Not anyone that understood the music. But, he would be played, nonetheless. It appeared he had been made for just this dance. He knew the music that he would make. It would spill from him regardless of his new knowledge.
Odd, how this new fact of existence, this new knowledge, which had negated everything he knew to be true, made the lessons learned from this fake knowledge, even more true and more relevant. ‘Ahhh, the world is an amazing place, holding surprises for even one such as me’, he thought. He calmed himself, quieted his mind, and prepared for the new man that would come from the plain before him. Into the wilderness a youth. Out from the wilderness a man. That was the way it had been for generations. It should continue, regardless of new knowledge. Moa’qi could see no reason for the traditions to change.

OK. Perhaps it is crap, perhaps it is snot.

Regardless, I've hit 1116 words on the first morning. We shall see what the night shall bring!
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