I Can Has Valid Criticism?*

So when I created this blog, I realized that I probably wouldn't update it much. I just wanted some record of my thoughts to reference. I didn't think I had the energy for more. I was (and still am) devoting much of my limited writing energy and skill into a novel named Byzantion. Some friends lately inspired me to shift into a higher gear, however. I wrote up the beginnings of a synopsis, so I could have an overarching plan to bind together all of the scattered scenes I'd written so far. I realized that it would be beneficial to me, so I'll be posting some things here. One benefit I'd like to see is that SomeOne might comment on my humble prose offerings; but one danger I'd like to avoid is that SomeOne might steal my shit. You see, that guy Someone is an unreliable bastard. I'd rather put my trust in NoOne, who, I'm reliably assured, is my most reliable reader!**

So I'll start posting the synopsis, and maybe later some chapter fragments. If anyone stumbles across this lonely oasis, I hope you might be generous enough to leave a morsel of Valid Criticism for a starving man. (No Snark, though. It tastes rancid. It's made mostly out of shit, you know.***)

IT STARTED AS A RANT:

A lot of people in this country should feel as if their patriotism, their trust, and their hope have been abused for far too long by swindling third-rate magicians attempting to spin a fantasy of very few words. You’ve heard them all. They made a mask of them: Terrorist. Homeland. Freedom. Like Nylarthotep**** they summoned fearsome phantoms, and mushroom clouds bloomed in our minds. Then the mask slipped, and we saw what it hid: Fear. Lies. Death.

If you’re extremely unlucky, or a poor angry dupe thinking any radioactive material can be centrifuged in a bucket swung overhead, or that two mutually highly reactive liquids could be quickly mixed in the perfect proportion to explode with enough force to down a plane, you could be sent to a place where you learn some new words: Illegal Combatant. Waterboarding. Stress Positions. The prestidigitators of Ideas make also makea few disappear: First Amendment. Habeas Corpus.

That’s why I’m writing Byzantion. I want people to step outside the world they are so deeply attached to. I want them to see that as the tree is twisted, so grows the forest. And our individual ideas which make up our reality are twisted far too often for the benefit of a very few.

Byzantion takes us to the rarefied heights of a society which is twin to ours in such respects, but may seem utterly alien in others. It is an exploration of a world which might have been, as similar to ours as a stranger might resemble an acquaintance when seen from afar.
A vast, secret government project to conquer the problem of missed opportunities, Project Hermes utilizes the most revolutionary technology the near future has to offer in order to spy upon the enemies of the Third Roman Republic’s ruling Blue Party. John, nephew of one of the Party’s elite cadre, is chosen to head the project
Before photographs and video, you only had one chance to witness an event. No one knows what the Crucifixion looked like, for example, though is reproduced in paintings and carvings found worldwide. However, even with the near universal presence of cameras of the most advanced type, important events are often conducted with no record save the memory of participants and witnesses, often factually unreliable, eternally self-centered and unavoidably incomplete.
Hermes solves this problem by taking advantage of speed of light delay times. A spy satellite orbiting Jupiter and aimed at Earth might capture events which occurred an hour beforehand. Hermes’ maximum range is half a light year- they may record video of events that the Republic’s spies might not have been aware of for six months beforehand, i.e.: How did the band of terrorists enter the country several months ago? With whom did the traitor meet before his crime?
Though blind in one eye, John can see into the past itself. And as he finds out, hindsight isn’t always 20/20.

John Trabzeus is the son of George Trabzeus, one of the Republic’s greatest war heroes, and the nephew of one of Thaddeus Baradeus, one of its most powerful Senators. George is immortalized in movies and catchphrases as the bravest of the brave, a man betrayed by his own government and abandoned to death in the fall of the last of the Republic’s overseas possessions, Boston. His memory is carefully stoked by Theodora, his widow, with the aid of nationalist groups and her brother Thaddeus, who uses George’s memory to advance a paradoxical agenda of greed and idealism. Perhaps one is only a tool to serve the other, but which is which? Even Thaddeus doesn’t know.

John feels that his mother and Thad are exploiting his father’s memory, though he dares not confront them. As soon as he is able, he attempts to escape by joining the Army. John tells Theodora not to worry, that the Army will take care of him. She takes this poorly, and is still fuming when he calls her from his first leave following training to beg for her help. He has become stranded in Troy, the Republic’s version of Atlantic City, when he becomes involved in a crooked dice game and his wallet is stolen. He needs money to make it back to base in order to avoid the punishment for Unauthorized Absence (UA): a minimum of five lashes. Theodora refuses, turning his words back upon him: “You said they’d take care of you. So they’ll take care of you.”

Later, I'll post the rest of the synopsis and maybe some chapter fragements.

*Second strip from the bottom.
**Props to that clever fucker Odysseus, that joke's most literally a classic.
***I take the neo-con postition on Snarkers- preemptive war = preventative war. So I'll open hostilities for anyone who was about to snark, but decided to take the time to read the footnote (again, most likely my reliable audience, that righteous dude NoOne*: Thanks for the help, fucko!
****A mysterious, demonic sciento-magician in Lovecraft's short story of the same name. The narrator goes to see his performance, where he heckles Ny (as I like to call him) and is cursed to witness the accelerating decay of space-time, past the heat death of the universe, and the eternal, unbearable vista of 'the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods- the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nylarthotep."