This is the 10th in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
 
Recently I was reading a collection of short stories by Arthur C. Clarke, one of my favorite science fiction authors. The collection included a few short introductions to some of the stories. In one case, he lamented how many would-be SF writers fell into overused tropes, using as his example a story of two space travelers who land on Earth in the ancient past to become Adam and Eve.
 
I chuckled, albeit awkwardly, as I thought about “Enmity.”
 
In my defense, “Enmity” isn’t about the origins of Adam and Eve, but rather what led to their infamy. The serpent, in this case, isn’t the ground-slithering creature we know. Given that the Genesis account puts special emphasis on the creation of humans, made in the image of God, and that the serpent’s “snakeness” happens after it’s cursed, I thought the serpent here ought to be exceptionally unusual. Enter Herpet and a little twist in time.
 
The title is a direct reference to the Genesis story, by the way. And Herpet (get it?) is the one who instigates the enmity that marks the rest of human history.
 
This story was another community literary award winner. I thoroughly enjoyed those contests and the opportunity to read excerpts to an audience.
 
Before anyone gives me grief: Yes, I realize the forbidden fruit almost certainly wasn’t an apple. But I mean, come on, it makes for a great final line!

This is the ninth in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
 
“Moksha” has a surprising genesis: It was originally intended as a comic book. Upon reflection, I realize it probably wouldn’t have worked—too much talking, not enough action. But it was fun to think of it in a graphic novel kind of way.
 
The invitation came from some folks I met while working on Star Trek New Voyages. I’ll always be grateful for the opportunity, and for the nice way they told me “Moksha” wasn’t a good fit. Still, I enjoyed doing my own take on Groundhog Day.
 
“Moksha,” oddly enough, has a tenuous link with an Open Door novelette I wrote in 1995, Something To Hide. While vastly different stories, both are inspired by the story of Queen Esther and how she was called to a great—and dangerous—mission. In Amit’s case, it was a mission he didn’t want and found it all but impossible to escape. But “relief and deliverance” (Esther 4:14) did come from somewhere else, even as Amit’s freedom perished.
 
“Moksha” does raise an admittedly uncomfortable question: If we truly believe we’re called to a specific purpose in life, and that purpose isn’t what we want it to be … what do we do? Fulfill that calling? Or turn our backs on it, even if that rejection costs someone else? Ponder that a spell.
 
Once again I experiment with a little humor despite the dire nature of the story. Extra credit if you pick up on the (deliberately vague) Monty Python reference.

This is the eighth in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
 
I heard about a short story contest that was looking for speculative tales related to climate change, so I decided to see what I could do.
 
I wasn’t interested in penning a Mad Max dystopian tome, though. I wanted to step just a few decades into the future, drawing some reasonable conclusions about what might happen. The megadrought in the western U.S. was getting a lot of attention--it’s still happening, by the way—as was the rapidly shrinking Ogallala Aquifer, the largest underground water source in the United States. And there was the ongoing discussion about piping freshwater from the Great Lakes to arid regions elsewhere.
 
So my thought became: What if drought-struck communities, having lost a war for freshwater, started a “wet market” (not in the way the term is typically used) to purchase stolen water from the Great Lakes? And what if the states around those lakes formed a law enforcement group to stop it?
 
It’s an interesting premise, but not a particularly human one. And I definitely wanted a human perspective. Thus was formed Brooks and his little daughter, Dayla, who presents her dad with a moral dilemma: When does compassion for others overrule dispassionate laws, especially those rooted in greed? “I have seen a grievous evil under the sun: wealth hoarded to the harm of its owners, or wealth lost to some misfortune, so that when they have children there is nothing left for them to inherit.” (Ecclesiastes 5:13-14).
 
Much of “Thicker Than” is set along the Lake Michigan shoreline. Two of my favorite haunts get a shout-out, South Haven and Saugatuck. And I tapped the cop language of TV shows and novels, perhaps a bit too cliché, for the back and forth of the AquaMarines. I loved coming up with that name, by the way.
 
Finally, Dayla plays rugby because that’s the only organized sport I pay any attention to, thanks to my son. I imagine she’s a great player.

This is the seventh in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
 
Humor! I have a deep and abiding respect for people who can “write funny.” It doesn’t come naturally to me—in fact, stand-up comedians say it doesn’t come naturally to anyone.
 
That said, “Locum Tenens” isn’t a laughfest, nor did I intend it to be. It’s dark humor, a tale that (hopefully) prompts a snicker or two and ends with a dollop of horror.

I drew inspiration for the Hedwigs from two well-known TV couples: the Bunkers of All In The Family, and the Kramdens from The Honeymooners. The Hedwigs seem to both love each other and rub each other the wrong way. It’s a bit of a coin toss as to which they really are at their center—until the end, where we understand what a complete ass Bing Hedwig is.
 
But “Locum Tenens” isn’t really about Bing or Willa; it’s about scapegoating. It’s about blaming others for our personal or societal shortcomings. Instead of owning our mistakes or embracing our ability to make things better, human nature prompts us to fault another person or an entire population.
 
I remember reading once that, in ancient times, a well-to-do family might have a servant or slave whom they would beat for the failures of a family member. From that memory I imagined an entire bioengineering industry to serve the same purpose—on a much larger and much more disturbing scale.
 
Of course, our modern reality is all the more bleak. Scapegoating is a way of life in our society, and that hit me hard when I penned this piece. “Locum Tenens” is my way of calling it out, with hope that we all might see it and change our ways.
 
“Locum Tenens” was another community literary awards winner, one that I’m particularly proud of because I think the dark humor works well. And there’s a whole secondary story to tell, isn’t there? What do the clones think of their sad role in society? It makes you think.