This is the 22nd in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
 
As I noted in the blog about “Three Hours,” “Flash of Life” was a contest winner and an episode of Chronicles long before winding up in a book. But this may come as a surprise to you: I like the TV episode better.
 
“Flash of Life” is based on the old notion that we see our lives “flash” before our eyes at the moment of death. (Or, if you prefer, it gets a hard review in the afterlife.) In this case, Hap Lister isn’t actually experiencing the future moments before it happens, but rather his entire “life” is the review happening at its frightening end.
 
In Chronicles, Hap becomes Hannah, and the story happens in the 1940s after a woman finds the journal of her deceased grandfather, a doctor who observed what happened to Hannah. We filmed the opening and closing scenes at the Gilmore Car Museum near Kalamazoo. Except for those scenes, the episode is filmed in black and white, underscoring its back-in-time setting.
 
Like Hannah, Hap becomes increasingly desperate as he slowly comes to realize what’s happening to him—and that it’s too late to turn his life around. The reciting of Matthew 25 makes that painfully clear to Hap. And to us.
 
If you’re interested in the TV version, it’s still online. Fun fact: The bag carried by the doctor has made two appearances on TV screens. This is the first one. The same bag also appears briefly in “Mind-Sifter,” an episode of Star Trek New Voyages for which I wrote the teleplay. I purchased it at an antique store near my hometown, and I still have it.

This is the 21st in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
 
A few years ago, a couple of news stories—written with tongue firmly in cheek—suggested that time travelers are among us. Or were, as the case may be. One story claimed that a street scene in a 1920s Charlie Chaplin film shows a woman talking on a cellphone. The other story insisted a man at a 1940s gathering was a time traveler as well, sporting modern-day clothing and sunglasses.
 
Both instances have perfectly logical explanations that don't involve time travel. Still, those were the images that prompted me to write “Gabbatha.”
 
There’s another motivation as well. We like to pretend that we’re enlightened in the 21st century and would never make the poor choices that our ancestors made. Christians, for example, insist they’d be far more faithful to Jesus than his disciples proved to be. Had today’s believers been in Jerusalem then, they would stick up for him, stand beside him, be prepared to suffer with him.
 
“Gabbatha” suggests that isn’t so.
 
Rhys, our time traveler, glimpses a Christ we don’t like to think about: a Messiah who takes on all of our sins and failings. We applaud this in our church services, but we really don’t consider what it must have been like—what it looked like, if we could literally see that ugliness. Rhys sees it, abhors it, and joins in with the deadly chorus.
 
Finding the ancient Greek phrases was more difficult than I’d expected. Google Translate doesn’t do koine. Fortunately, I found a history text that offered phrases I could write around. I thought it brought a little realism to the final product.

This is the 20th in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
 
“Three Hours” shares something with another story in this collection, “Flash of Life.” Both won writing contests, and both appeared on TV screens before landing in a book.
 
In the days before YouTube, I collaborated with a producer friend on a direct-to-video series called Chronicles. It took a cue from The Twilight Zone—an anthology show featuring strange, even bizarre stories with a moral. We did four episodes before the producer, laden with other projects, decided to move on. I wrote two installments, including the pilot, “Three Hours.”
 
The difference between the video version of “Three Hours” and this one is that the former has an entire act (plus a female character) that doesn’t show up in the short story. That’s because the story wasn’t nearly enough to sustain a 30-minute episode. When preparing Random Precision, I briefly considered rewriting the story to include Weena—H.G. Wells fans will recognize the name—but decided that, while she was essential to the TV show, she wasn’t needed for the story.
 
Once again I revisit the theme of trying to rewriting one’s history to duck one’s responsibility. For Herbie—yup, H.G. Wells again—not only does it fail, but does so with horrific results.
 
If you like the short story and wonder what the Chronicles version was like, it’s your lucky day! It’s still available online.

This is the 19th in a deep-dive series on the stories in Rick’s newest book, Random Precision. The following blog includes spoilers.
 
The idea of quantum dice isn’t mine. I read a thought piece (I think it was in Scientific American) about quantum dice as a way to illustrate quantum mechanics—in this case, how that feeds into alternate realities. I’ve always been drawn to multiverse tales for the same reason I enjoy time travel stories: the idea that you can change your reality to something else. Larry Niven’s “All The Myriad Ways” does an outstanding job with this concept. (And the ending of “A Throw of the Dice” takes a small inspiration from that story.)
 
Of course, the twist here is that Trevor Gaine has been rewriting his reality all along, without dabbling in quantum mechanics. He does it simply by not being accountable for it—running away from it, in fact. But the simple truth is, his sins (like ours) are destined to find him out. At some point, we must be accountable to our past, our present and our future.
 
I placed this story in Tucson because I’d recently visited there, though I didn’t visit any such bars. As for the London pub, applause for anyone who catches the classic Monty Python reference!