#I do vaguely know someone who got a job at NASA in it though

[youngerfrankenstein]

…What if I like. Actually went into robotics?

[tothestarsandbackmoved]

Rant about interstellar

i have before but ill do it again!

interstellar touches me for many many reasons.

first off, the entire premise and setting and the world building in it. the dust storms, the failing crops. the protagonist does say at one point- "humanity was born on earth. they were never meant to stay here" and that just,,, hits me you know? presently we've seen the emergence of no human exploration besides the probes and the ISS. there are plans but the same curiosity just seems dead. interstellar stretches that and shows us what would happen when human curiosity and the desire to explore would die. we'd kill everyone on the planet and soon starve ourselves. the blights- the illnesses- the dead medicare- that's a very bleak future, but a very real one. the movie does both its part about scaring the viewer about it- as well as giving us hope about wormholes and quantum data and singularities and how we'd save ourselves. you can see that the old generation is talking about their days and how better or worse it would be. in the end, on the cooper satellites, you see the interviews being played- and it really breaks me. that was a generation that thought it was the end. the end of human life. the final descent and that was it. and then they see the five dimensions and getting lifted and their lives are essentially turned around. this isn't just the older people though. we see that the gen z then, like cooper's son have also mostly been brought up to *live*. we see that he tries to get into school and actually get into uni and find a job in one of the remaining sectors of the world which still offer something other than farm corn- raise family. You see that the teachers also say this? they teach them to fight blights and sustain crops because they’re losing more and more to disease each year. Humanity’s slowly being packed up and demolished and they aren’t seeing it coming. at all.

then there’s the quote which is recurring throughout the movie:

“do not go gentle into the good night”

the professor says this all the time. as they’re leaving- his last few dying words- as they’re preparing. and you know what? i’ll say it. this is where the next important theme comes in. Desperation. When he initially sends them out- he hasn’t solved gravity yet, and he knows he never will. Not without the quantum data from a black hole- something again, he can never get. Which is why he implies that there’s a Plan B and cooper can see murphy again (this is also very important- scroll down for this). He breaks all their trust- and he knows he’ll die before seeing the end of the mission- and you can’t die with guilt, not really. He knows that he can’t be held accountable because he’s dead. He’s well aware that his plan is a hail mary- and it wouldn’t have worked anyways. He’s counting on Plan B, and that’s all there is to it. He uses the quote as a reminder to himself- because he’s torn too. He isn’t inherently evil, at all. He’s the precarious thread the entire mission dangles by- but he’s willing to risk that too. He’ll be long, long dead before humanity dies- or moves- and this is his last try.

Now for the second part of this quote. As I talked about before- the quote feels more like a reminder to himself- and not actually something that inspires hope in the crewmates. But ironically, it ends up becoming what guides murph. As the professor is dying, she tells him “you’ve been doing this with both your arms tied behind your back”- that’s actually when she finds out about his whole plan. This is the failure of the professor- but at the same time, it becomes the moment he passes the torch to murph. The professor died, knowingly sending his own daughter into the reaches of space. He prioritized his need to save humanity over the love for his own daughter. But, murph isn’t like that. When she finds out about this, she remembers the promise her dad made to her.

“I’ll be back when you’re the age I am now”

and now, she knows he’s lied. But he hasn’t done it on purpose. and she understands that. She makes it HER goal that they don’t go gentle into the good night. She knows that this is probably futile, but she’s going to try. and she’s not going to try thinking that she’ll probably fail- like the professor did (in resignation for plan B)- she’s going to try to bring cooper back.

Third, coming back to desperation. A bold, bold act of desperation is what dr mann did. (I have some qualms about the actor playing estranged astronauts- anyways). Him sending out that sensor- knowing that it will bring humans back to him, while simultaneously jeopardizing the entire mission, and possibly the fate of humanity. He knows what he has done- but he has gone insane alone- and he’d betray his entire cause to see a human face again. This movie really says something about what humans are willing to do. On one hand, you have a woman who singlehandedly saves them all- for human love, and on the other, a man who is willing to commit genocide (that’s what i think it is, dont ask) to see someone else. He messes up everything, deliberately, and goes from “the greatest and bravest man to walk the earth” to a “cold and desperate villain”. This theme has a lot to do with what is happening right now too. Forgive the activism, but we do have people who knowingly exploit and burn and ravage the earth, for their own good- and they’re insane to the point that they genuinely can’t see right from wrong. Sure, you could argue that he was motivated by the need to preserve your own life. But if you give his cause *any* context, you see how wrong he is. This is flailing human desperation, pure and simple.

Now, approaching the themes that actually make it as good as it is. Dr Brand is easily my favourite character in the movie. We get to see her as a brilliant scientist initially, and her arc- is perfect, honestly. For example, take the wormhole handshake- as their going through interdimensional space- where time isn’t linear and your brain gets fried if you try to comprehend it- she recognizes a *being* in that space. If you recall that scene, she reaches out, and meets *them*- someone she knows is otherworldly and entirely above humans (we later learn it is Cooper in the matrix- and i have things to say about that too) and makes contact. She suggests, as both a human- and a scientist- that it may be love that transcends dimensions. She makes first contact with beings that may be their salvation- or destruction- and i think that is definitely the peak of human existence.

She argues that love may be what connected the crew to higher dimensions, and I'll dare to say that she’s right. Love is what made Cooper try to contact murph. Love is what made them dare to save humans. Love was what got her there. She tells them to go to Edmund's planet- not just because she loves him, but because she also makes relevant points AND her gut. It might be stretching it to say that was why she was right- but it is worth introspection. Dr Brand represents the best of humanity and she does carry it, doesn’t she? She settles on the planet for ‘the long nap’ in the end. She tries to save everyone- like on the mountain planet- and she loves. She hopes and she trusts and is unwaveringly honest and courageous. This could become a Dr Brand stan blog for all I care.

Moving on

We have the ‘them’. These are the mysterious threads that tie all parts of the movie together. A black hole to a little girl’s bookshelf. Worlds galaxies apart. A very important thing to note here is that the characters recognize that this is humanity, just very, very far out. And most importantly, wise. This is a civilization who has surpassed the ordinary dimensions, and *mortal* time. They could’ve easily saved all of humanity and given them the planet they were looking for. But their entire ineffable plan, and only putting things where they were needed- was what made them greater than just someone who helps others. Only being able to get binary signals through an intergalactic wormhole, building bookshelves that become a huge metaphor for humanity trying to claw at knowledge- and actually slowly pushing the books forward. The ‘them’ weren’t ordinary humans at all. They definitely hinted and gave me a brief, fickle glance beyond what humans could be- raw possibilities.

Then, we have cooper. This makes it hard to write for him- and do his character justice- but I will try. His character, essentially, is brought down to selflessness, love, a brutal, brutal sense of humour- and the courage- the heavy, heavy courage to sacrifice himself. He’s also the polar opposite of what Dr mann stands for. 

His first important point- in my opinion- is when the movie is starting. I didn’t walk in expecting this from him, not really. You see a dying earth- and this man is (alone in his fight, NASA doesn’t count yet) fighting the system alone. He fights for his son, tries for his father in law, and then the most important relationship- his daughter. He’s seeing an earth where not even *children* are curious, or willing, or interested in anything greater. He sees this in his daughter, though. Hence, the bookshelf- the gravity, and the plain curiosity. 

I’ll dare to say that at this point, humanity’s a dying, dying flame. And what he sees in his daughter, what we see in his daughter, is a rebirth of potential. She has the human spark, so to speak. He sees that, and he makes promises, and is willing to bring the world to its knees to protect her. And he knows he might not be there when Murph burns strong, and bright, and becomes the saviour of humanity- but he hopes.  An important element is the promise, which I mentioned earlier, but it defines their relationship. The promise that he’ll be back when they’re the same age. They both know that it’s not true. They can see the lie, but that promise also empowers them to do what they did when their paths diverge.

Cooper goes to Mann's planet with the vague hope that he’ll be back in time. Murph does most of what she does because she thinks that it’ll bring her father back. Even towards the end, when Cooper willingly jumps into gargantua, a supermassive black hole- which is the literal heart of darkness, he does it in the attempt to save his daughter, and hopes she can get the quantum data at the cost of his life. 

About Murph, we mostly see her through the eyes of Cooper in the beginning. A curious and lovable and stubborn tween who just wants to grow up with her dad and do their science experiments. Her perseverance is phenomenal- she loses her dad despite her warnings and asking- and realizes that her loss is something undefinable, but there. In a way, she grows to understand both her responsibility and her part to play, and why her father did what he did. The ‘ghost’ is another plot device- a mysterious figure who messes with the gravity and knocks her books down. And she sees a message there. She tells him about ‘don’t go’ and i can’t begin to describe how beautifully poetic and heartbreaking it is that they realize the significance of that at the same time, and how it ties together. It is hard for me to fathom that scene really- cooper is in an interdimensional matrix, inside a supermassive black hole, and he tries to tell his daughter two things. (a) trying to stop himself from going out and on the mission, which he knows is deemed to fail and (b) sending the quantum data, because that is what mattered in the end, anyways. The ghost comes full circle- and also says what he had to say, when it was most important. And for those who’ve seen the movie, i just really have to put this quote out there:

‘It was you. It was always you. You were my ghost, dad’

And in that, the movie completes itself. It talks about unfailing love, the peak and fall of humanity, and the potential of curiosity.

In this essay I will...

[tarithenurse]

Space Nurse 5/?

Fandom(s): Men in Black & MCU! Pairing: (Wait and see) x fem!reader Contents: Probably some cussing and slight bit of angsting. A/N: switching from 1st person PoV in the diary, we now get to enjoy some 2nd pers PoV “live action”! Leave me an ask or reblog to be added to the tag list...even if my writing will be slowing down considerably now that I have to prep for last internship’s exam.

From Nightingale to Sci-Fi

You’re unable to finish the breakfast due to the nauseating anticipation of what’s to come. Good thing you’ll be tending humans the first while, at least their physiology isn’t new to you. Nooo, only all the things they can suffer from in their line of work! You’re far from rested after having spent the entire night studying alien parasites and whatnot. It explains the frequent physicals they need to go through.

Abandoning your futile attempts at finishing the yoghurt with muesli, you stash the tray in the rack and turn around to head off only to nearly slam into the solid shape dressed in a black suit with matching tie which seems to soften and lighten his skin. Looking up into the smiling face of agent Jay, you gravity that tries to pull you stumbling backwards, minimizing the movement to a soft sway.

“Easy there, newbie,” Jay grins as he slips an arm around your waist to steady you, “didn’t mean to scare ya’.”

Slinking out of his steady hold (and tearing your gaze away from his endless eyes), it’s easy enough to deny his claim and if he doesn’t believe you…well at least he doesn’t say it.

“Spend most mornings trying to sneak up on…newbies?” The words fall testily over your lips.

When Jay smirks it makes his feathery moustache tremble. “Nah, only the one’s I’ve been told to assess.”

The two of you’ve started walking and you vaguely recognize the path that leads to the locker room. He’s a relatively tall man, at least compared to yourself and you’re not exactly the tiniest person. Even so, there’s nothing unsettling about walking next to him because nothing about his person carries the air of the other cold and anonymous agents you’ve encountered so far.

“There’ll be one from either bureau evaluatin’ ya work and skills every day. I’ve been tasked to represent Men in Black. Doctor Cho was supposed to be the delegation from Shield and –“

“Wait.” Pausing briefly to look at the friendly face to make sure you didn’t mishear. “There’re two fractions at play?”

By the time Jay finishes explaining about Strategic Homeland-something-or-other and Men in Black, your mind’s fuzzy with semi-political history. Your new acquaintance isn’t clear on who knew about the extra-terrestrials first, but it’s apparent that MiB have specialized on the field and it was a director of SHIELD, a guy called Fury, that arranged for a meeting to build a cooperation. One day, rumour goes, he was sitting in the office of “Alpha”, the chief of Jay’s organisation.

“So…I’m not actually part of neither Men in Black or SHIELD?” Pulling out a set of scrubs from an automated dispenser, you continue into the locker room.

Maybe he doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care, because he follows dutifully. “Nah, durin’ the trial period y’are in neutral territory. Once assessed, we decide which agency ya’ll fit with, ya know…skills, temper, shit like tha’.”

“Don’t I have a say in it?” you ask, brows raised although he can’t see it because you’ve got the back to him and your head halfway into your locker.

Kicking off shoes, there’s no sign the man will leave, and you decide to change while he keeps talking.

“Ya want a say in – oh okay, we’re doin’ that!” You hear him shuffle about and a glance verifies that he’s turned away. “It’s not that I mind, ya see. Nothin’ wrong with…with…ahm…” The shadows of flailing hands doesn’t provide him with the needed vocabulary. “Aaaanyways! So…erm…well if ya got any preferences, we’ll be happy to hear ‘em.”

The scrubs from the hospital back home used to be white, maybe with navy leggings depending on the model, so it looks odd to you with the pastel yellow. I’m like an Easter chicken! Baggy pants and unshapely t-shirt, at least both have huge pockets for pens, notebooks with charts and vitals, and much more that you’ve come to learn is handy to have nearby during a shift. Pushing the locker-door shut with a dull clang, you straighten up and breathes in deeply in the hope that it’ll steady the nerves once and for all.

“Let’s do this.”

…

With doctor Helen Cho gone one of the people responsible for your introduction (though apparently only for a little while) is a young SHIELD-scientist although her expertise lies in biochemistry, making her less of an obvious choice to work in the infirmary in much the same way Helen’s focus on genetics does. But doctor Simmons in kind and brilliant, and she willingly explains that most of the doctors at this facility aren’t “ordinary” doctors due to the special needs any disease or injury related to extra-terrestrials require. As such, it’s up to you and the handful of other nurses to cover the gap between the professions.

No pressure. Sure, you’ve done your fair share of stiches and cleaning wounds...but you’re no surgeon, of course, and as your mind lists all the manners your expertise can be insufficient you feel your heart fall. Even though you’d been surprised to be offered this job (and since then shocked to find out what it entails), you don’t want to be deemed unworthy. Damnit, you bicker at yourself, if I gotta leave it’ll be me walking out as a protest.

…

You don’t leave that day. Instead, the time is spend doing regular checkups and collecting blood and urine samples from the many (human) employees that have been called in in advance. Some of the equipment might be fancier than at your old job, but the procedures are perfectly familiar, putting you at each and freeing your mind to make small talk with the military personnel which apparently are being checked these days.

A few of the faces are recognizable from the hallways or the cafeteria, there’s even a set of twins (whom you’ve assumed was actually just one very busy guy) that recognizes you from the gym. Red hair and brown eyes equally aflame with joy barely able to mask a glimmer of mischief when they each in turn offer you to join them for training or company at meal time. After seeing the second out, you take the liberty of noting down their names just in case you take them up on their offer.

And so, the day passes surprisingly quickly with you in one room together with the “patients” and agent Jay and doctor Simmons, the two people who has a power over your future, in the lab except when they decide to check up on you or stop by to give you a message. No one joins you for lunch, and by the time the day ends, you’re thankful that neither of the two leaves with you even if it means walking the halls alone.

…

You’ve had an hours rest before needing to be ready for the daily torture at the hands of the trio in charge of your training. Dragging your sorry ass and buzzing mind to the gym, getting insulted and yelled at is the last thing you feel like because even if the day technically speaking has been simple, getting used to a new work place is taking its toll mentally.

Dropping the little towel and water bottle in the treadmill’s holders, you know the first part of the training session you’ll be left mostly alone as long as you don’t run too slow. A few beeps with the buttons starts the preprogrammed, torturous, cardio workout.

15 minutes in, and your lungs are burning as though someone’s filled them with acid, forcing your body to work on anaerobic metabolism and sheer stubbornness. Breathe in while left-right-left, breathe out while right-left-right. On and on, the mantra drones while the empty gaze stays fixed on the barren wall at the other side of the room. Just a…bit more. You know you’re lying to yourself, but it’s easier to handle one more minute at a time than all 15 at once.

By the time the machine slows to a halt, some unknown deity must have taken pity on you to prevent your legs from giving out under you. Wiping the sweat away with the little towel (and stifling a groan of discouragement), the only goal is to drag out the time before one of the three buddies turns their attention to you.

“Hey, [Y/N]. Right?”

The cheery voice right behind you makes you snap around so fast you nearly trip yourself, and four hands shoot out to steady you. What was their names again?

“Woops,” the other twin smiles (or maybe it’s the same that spoke before), “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Heh. Nono, you didn’t,” you lie with a half-hearted smile, “I was just erm…mentally far away.”

The one you think might be Sean looks solemnly around the boring gym. The place is styled á la minimalist institution with once-white concrete walls and linoleum in some uncanny greenish hue that looks more like mold than anything you ought to have indoors.

“Next time…please bring me along.” The sigh would seem honest if it wasn’t for the twinkle in the brown eyes.

“Oï!” Of course, his brother (possibly named Ian, depending on who’s who) isn’t about to miss out on anything as he elbows his way closer, sending maybe-Sean slightly off balance. “Anything particular in mind? Otherwise I’ll show you the good places around here, just say the word!”

Their enthusiasm and smiles are contagious, rekindling a happiness that has otherwise been dampened since you left home. You’re just about to answer, accepting the offer in the need of having some sort of friends in this foreign place, when Costa sidles over with a brow arched in disapproval. Clad in shorts and a sports bra, showing almost all of her toned body, you’re reminded of the inferior status thrust upon you – and for obvious reasons when it comes to physical prowess. If it was only that, at least. But no. Of course, this warrior-lady somehow manages to look gorgeous and be smart too, and a pang of mixed emotions in your chest prompts you to look away.

“What’ve we got here?” The slightly nasal Caribbean dialect is honeyed. Too honeyed. “The havoc-twins are trying to sabotage my recruit?”

“Ma’am, no, ma’am.” Both guys’ drain in the split second it takes before they answer in unison.

Smoldering eyes turn frosty, freezing the guys and you to the spot. “Good. I won’t tolerate anything but perfection, and if you mess with my work, I’ll make you regret it. We clear?!”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” You bite your tongue not to answer with Sean and Ian.

“You can have her when I’m done.” Costa’s words sends a new wave of heat to your cheeks for no reason you should be thinking of. “Now move.”

Watching the twins scurry off, you wait silently for the punishing rant that must be brewing for you.

Nothing.

No harsh words or degrading comments slip Costa’s lips while she instructs you on the use of some equipment meant to exercise arms and chest. Oh no, her punishment is way more refined, much crueler. From one machine to the next, she pushes you beyond the limits you thought you had in a gruelling manner where raw strength and endurance are brought to the test until you literally pass out, losing your grip on an elastic cord as you slump unto the floor. Weather it’s the sharp whip against your face from the equipment or the impact with the linoleum that wakes you, well that’s impossible to tell. Either way, it’s the burning humiliation that hurts the most as you try to focus on the face of your tormentor.

[brittysaucefanfic]

Operation: Voltron

Part 5

Keith

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

Keith had been knee deep in his files on Blue Lion when his brother knocked on the door. Usually, when interrupted in the middle of his thought process on this infuriating case, Keith would not be happy. He would have snapped at the person, no matter if they were a King from another country, or if they were his overprotective big brother. Keith wouldn’t have held back.

But his thoughts were already so jumbled up and ready to send Keith to the loony bin, that he actually appreciated the distraction. He swirled around in his chair, which might as well have been an extra body part from how long he was sitting there. In the doorway stood his obnoxiously muscular older brother.

Don’t get him wrong, Keith adored hs brother Shiro.

When he was eleven, and was first brought home to the Shirogane household, he had met Shiro for the first time. And it was like Shiro just became God in his eyes. To this day Keith couldn’t tell you the moment he stopped hating this family he loves so dearly now, to when he was suddenly practically worshipping the ground that Shiro walked upon.

It could have been when they first locked eyes. Or it could have been when Shiro bailed him out of school to get some ice cream a week later. Maybe when Shiro left for another tour overseas. Perhaps it was long before the first meeting though. 

When the Shirogane couple he calls Mom and Dad now first came to the orphanage, Keith was their first choice. They had talked to him maybe twice, told him about Shiro, when Keith had demanded to know why he wasn’t with them.

They gave him a letter, one he still has hidden in his house somewhere. 

It was a letter from Shiro, and it said, in summary, that Shiro wanted the choice of adoption to be up to his parents and not to Shiro. There were so many kind words crammed into a single sheet of notebook paper, that Keith had immediately ran to his room in the orphanage to hide it. 

So, yeah. Keith loves Shiro dearly. But the amount of hours in his day just spent working out or cleaning, especially after getting the new arm, was ridiculous. Sure, it looks good on him, and he wasn’t exactly the size of a mountain, but still. Chill dude.

“Shiro, what’s up?” Keith asked, eyeing his brother who simply stood leaning in his doorframe. They were in his office at the FBI headquarters, which was a fancy little area, small but cozy. Nice view, not too much furniture- just Keith’s style. Shiro smiled fondly down at him, and Keith knew it was a fond smile, because only one corner of his lips lifted.

“Just came to talk. Got a minute, or am I interrupting?” Shiro asked as he stepped off the frame and stepped inside, letting the door swing gently closed. It was glass, because there was a lot of glass walls and doors in this building. 

"Please." Keith said, rubbing his sore eyes. He needed a coffee, or five. "I'm begging you to kill me right now." Shiro only gave short scoff before dragging out a chair and taking a seat.

Keith watched with lidded eyes as his brother scanned the table piled up with Keith's most infamous case. It was separated into two halves. The first half of the pile, to Keith's right, was directly involving his criminal, named Blue Lion.

It wasn't very much, maybe three folders worth of actual information and two boxes full of origami lions made out of Blue paper. Hence the name. Each lion was about the size of a softball, and they were intricately designed.

Should you line each lion up from oldest to newest, you could physically see the skill get more and more perfected. But Shiro's already seen all of that. Even the folders of information, no matter that Keith could lose his job for it.

It was the second pile that was more interesting. Keith has pulled every case file he's done since becoming an FBI agent, and he's been steadily combing through them for any similarities. Like connections to each other and connections to Blue Lion. It was just a hunch he had.

Recently, someone Keith put in prison had recognized keith right off the bat. When questioned, the man had simply said ‘Blue was right about you.’ Refused to speak at all after that, no matter how long the interrogations went, or if Keith was or wasn’t in the room. The man had said nothing, not even to taunt the interrogators, which was a very common reaction from guys like him. So after that, it got Keith wondering just how many people he’s gone after who had connections to his number one case.

"What's all this?" Shiro asked. His eyebrow was raised and a curious glint in his eye sparked. Keith's always hated that glint in his brother's eyes, because most of the time it gets Keith into unwanted situations. Like a double date with twin girls. 

Keith is gay.

"These are all the cases that I've done since I joined the FBI. I'm looking for any correlations between my old cases and the Blue Lion case." Keith said. Goodness, even he could hear how exhausted he sounded.

Shiro looked back at Keith briefly, before he did that thing he does when he's hiding something or being nonchalant to get his way. It's hard to put a name to what it is, but Keith knows it by heart.

Because he taught Shiro how to hide things and lie to their parents.

Before Keith came along, Shiro was horrible at lying and keeping secrets from his family. And at first, Shiro was perfectly fine with that. Up until the moment when Keith got away with something Shiro never would have. The look of astonishment was priceless. After that Shiro shyly asked Keith to show him how to do it.

"What if I told you," Shiro started. He had gone as far as poking at the left pile to keep up a charade in front of Keith. It was useless. One, Shiro was too obvious when you knew what to look for. Two, Keith had been both a detective and an FBI agent for a while now. Kind of part of the job description to read people. "That I made some friends who could help you out in the Blue Lion case?" Shiro said, still thumbing the edges of a stack of files. It got Keith's interest at least, and Keith leaned forward. 

He was definitely awake now.

Shiro never tried to help anymore, Keith had been too irritable to let people help him on this case. Any other case? He loved to have someone else’s opinion. Not the Blue Lion case though. Keith felt it in his bones that he had to be the one to catch this guy, no one else. Maybe it was a pride thing, or maybe it was just him desperately wanting to prove himself to his old mentor. 

Or maybe it was both. 

He never wanted help with catching the Blue Lion, but at this point Keith would take anything. It's almost been three years since he was handed down the case from his mentor and boss. Three years working on this case all alone.

Three years of chasing smoke while his suspect avoided him like a pro.

"Listening..." Keith said, trailing off. If it meant finally being able to sleep at night without obsessing over this case, he would bend his pride and accept an offering of assistance.

It had been after his fourth closed case, which was a counterfeiting ring bust that ended with a boat load of bad guys in prison, when his mentor had approached Keith about the Blue Lion. It wasn't a secret that his friend, practically a God among mortals when it comes to closing cases, had been having no progress on this one single case.

Said he was tired of the case haunting him, and that it was his greatest regret on not being able to close it himself.

He had told Keith that he was stepping out of field work, and handing Blue Lion over to Keith. Keith had dutifully taken the mantle and spent the next week combing over the three pages worth of information. Which wasn't a lot, but by the end of the week Keith knew the details of the case back to front.

After about three months of chasing geese, his mentor had given Keith a new case, putting Blue Lion on the back burner. Anyone sane in his profession would have deemed it a lost cause. But Keith was too invested.

Why?

Because his mentor, friend, and boss deserved to see the case closed by someone he trusted to take over it. Over the three years working this case, Keith has nailed down every potential lead. There were maybe three people he put in lock up who had suspected ties to the Blue Lion, but interrogation offered nothing more than sarcasm and snark. 

Either these men were extremely loyal to Blue Lion, or they were terrified of him. 

Keith was almost afraid to find out which one it was.

“You remember how I told you about the new job offer, the one I agreed to take on?” Shiro asked. He had finally stopped messing with the files to try and look casual, now leaning his side against the table from where he sat, his chin propped up on his hand.

Keith nodded but didn’t reply.

“So far we, Allura and I, have recruited two more people to be on the team.” Shiro said after he realized Keith wasn’t going to reply with his words, as per typical of Keith. 

Allura. Keith remembers her. 

A white haired bombshell with more power in her pinky finger than the past four presidents combined. Shiro introduced the two of them at lunch one day maybe a week ago. And with how those two interacted, one would think they were already married for a decade. 

The sexual tension was disgusting.

“One them specifically, is a computer genius who used to work for NASA, and also well versed in hacking and breaching high level security databases.” Shiro said. Keith pretended he didn’t hear that, but didn’t interrupt Shiro. “She’s a bit younger, but she’s good. Remember Matt? From the space launch?” Shiro asked.

Matt? Keith vaguely remembers him. They never met face to face, but they did say hello one time when Shiro was doing a video call. Matt was one of the scientists who accompanied Shiro to space, and were also taken prisoner by the same terrorist group Shiro escaped from. He nodded to Shiro’s question anyways. 

“Katie, or Pidge as she prefers, Matt’s little sister, is the NASA scientist I’m talking about.” Shiro continued. “She can be a really big asset when going after Blue Lion, look at things you might have never even thought about thinking about.”

Keith pushed his tongue into his left cheek as he thought, considering this new turn of events. Then a thought hit him that had his eyes narrowing suspiciously at his brother. “And what? You’re just gonna give her to me like some sort human pet to use as I desire regarding the case?” 

Shiro cringed, his nose scrunching and bunching the scar on his nose up as he did so. “When you say it like that it sounds like I’m pimping her out or something.” Keith quirked his lips a little at that, because that was what he was going for in the first place.

“So what do you want in return for her helping me?” Keith asked, not beating around the bush and going straight into it.

Shiro sighed as if he held the world on his shoulder, which wasn’t too far from how Shiro carried himself. He was always the first to volunteer when someone needed to unload their own burdens. He was an extremely empathetic person, feeling someone else’s pain as if it were his own. And though it wasn’t the best of things to be when in the war zone, Shiro never let it hold him back.

It was one of the many things that Keith admired about Shiro.

“I can’t just help my baby brother?” Shiro said, his voice raising a notch in a classic tell for lying. Keith raised an eyebrow at Shiro, who caved in far too soon for someone who could survive a year in Zarkon’s captivity and escape.

“Okay fine. I want you to consider joining Allura’s task force with me. You know? We could bond and watch each other’s backs and all that. I think it would be fun.” Shiro finished weakly with a shrug. Keith rolled his eyes, but caved as well at Shiro’s puppy eyes.

“I’ll think about it. When do I meet this Pidge?” He asked. A new, and very unfamiliar voice sounded behind him, making Keith spin around, his hand already placed on his gun just in case.

“How about right now?” Said a short female with choppy cropped strawberry blonde hair and thick rimmed glasses. She was dressed in a pair of shorts, which barely peaked out from her lime green hoodie, zipped halfway up her body. Her brown eyes were sharp, even sharper than Allura’s were when they met. Speaking of the white haired bombshell, she appeared in his doorway behind the short female, as well as a very large man with a headband. 

“I’m Pidge, and this is my friend Hunk. We’re on the task force with your brother Shiro.” Pidge said, pushing up her glasses with a jacket covered hand. She looked kind of childish right then. “Shall we start then?”

****** 

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

[blackers-donuts]

Plaits of love

When Froghorn comes in with two small plaits prodding beneath his head with those funky plaits that come down from the top. Hitch had vaguely heard about them, he lived with a teenage girl after all and whilst they could both admit Ruby isn’t the most fashion forward girl, Sabrina sure is.

“Maybe if you take a picture Agent Hitch, it’ll last longer,” he snaps looking up from his papers, “if you are about to make fun at my pigtails I’m fairly certain I could get you fired.” “I am not, it is pretty, they suit you,” Hitch says, he can feel his body turn bright red and looking briefly away blushing completely to his ears. 

Froghorn matches Hitch’s colour before motioning through the door, “Miss Redfort is through there with Blacker.” “Froghorn, you maybe want to go out sometime,” says Hitch, trust the field agent to be the brash one and offer a date to the normally quiet Froghorn. “Cha’yeah,” says Froghorn, “and call me Miles please.” “I could call you anything you want me to,” flirts Hitch letting his field training get the better of him.

“Miles I am just a Miles, are you just a Hitch or,” replies Miles. “Art, sometimes,” says Hitch feeling his blush increase at his admitting his stupid first name. Why do parents name children after something they found beautiful, Art. “Okay Art, I’ll see you around seven,” says Miles taking control of the flirting, “maybe I will take you to a nice restaurant or something.” “I asked you out,” replies Hitch, “thank you though.” “Yep, pick me up from my home, you know where that is?” “No,” answers Hitch truthfully. “Ruby knows, ask her I am sure she has it all written down in those notebooks of hers,” Froghorn answers, “you really should do your job and pick her up.” “Seven?”double checks Hitch, “seven at your place.” “Yep don’t dress up fancy and yes a suit is fancy, I don’t care if you always wear suits,” says Miles, “ just put on a t shirt or something.”

Hitch nods though he is panicking about the lack of t shirts in his wardrobe. He has jeans, but he wears jeans with shirts not t shirts. He needed to go shopping or at least find someone to lend him something. “See you Art,” says Froghorn, “Redfort, your lift is here.” Ruby leaves and high fives Froghorn before fist bumping Hitch and leaving to wait in the car downstairs. “Listen I have the perfect place but it is not a suit place t shirts,” says Froghorn. Hitch nods before waving goodbye to Froghorn and following Ruby who is grinning from shotgun as Hitch slides in.

“I heard you need t shirts,” says Ruby. “No offence Ruby, I would much rather get fashion advice from Clancy then you and he wore heart shaped glasses for a month,” says Hitch, “I’ll drop you off at home and then I will try to find something. Do you know where Froghorn lives?” “With Blacker,” says the cryptic Ruby. “Where is that?” asks Hitch so close to just kicking Ruby out of the car. Ruby rattles off the address and Hitch smiles before passing her the donuts that he bought for her and tapping on the steering wheel till he reaches the house.

“That’s cute,” says Ruby watching the house keeper pull t shirts messily from the back of his wardrobe. “Too informal,” counters Hitch looking at the Nasa logo on the front, it came from the woman’s section so it was covered in glitter and silver, too be honest this was probably going to be the one t shirt that wasn’t covered in paint. He pulled it on and pulled a Star Wars hoodie over it. Hitch looks down, “too nerdy?” “Hell nah, he loves Nerdy stuff,” says Ruby.

Hitch nods and pulls on sharpied jeans, nothing wrong with a bit personalisation Ruby smiles and writes something around his ankle and he leans down to read it but she seems to have written it in Morse or something. “You are going to be late,” says Ruby. Hitch swears before sprinting to his car and driving, possibly at an illegal speed before parking the wrong end of the street and sprinting down.

“Shit, Miles I am sorry,” says Hitch as Froghorn opens the door, “I had a panic over an outfit.” “Oh did you,” says Miles embracing him in a hug, “seems a bit too nerdy for a field agent.” “I like space,” answers Hitch and he can feel his blush returning, now he will need to organise his outfits around when his face turns red. Miles separates and looks at his top, “my sister has that top.” “Well, I am not changing,” says Hitch. “I like it,” answers Froghorn, “I like your whole outfit honestly.”

Blacker comes up behind Miles, “are you two going out or standing in the doorframe letting snow in.” “Shut up Ethan,” says Mile before checking his reflection in his phone and brushing through his hair with his fingers before plaiting it with like three interlocking strands and pulling a giant red scrunchie around it.

“Hitch has got me for tonight, I’ll be back by shall we say eleven,” says Froghorn looking between his housemate and Hitch. Hitch looks up from his feet where he was standing awkwardly, “I am not going to kidnap you Miles.” “Just in case,” answers Miles, “I trust you.” “One date went wrong,” inputs Blacker before patting Hitch’s back, “have Miles back by eleven or I’ll get Sam out.” “Yeah yeah I will have him back Mr Blacker,” says Hitch, “ready to go.”

Miles looks up at Hitch, they happily swing their hands together before Miles drags him into one of those fancy bars that also offer food. Exciting food, actual good food that wasn’t microwaved fish and chips or a greasy pie. This is nice. “Hitch,” calls Sabrina from a table where she is sat over with a friend. “Miss Redfort,” replies Hitch. Miles grins a little, before tugging his date to another section of the restaurant and sitting down.

Hitch smiles a little, pulling at the hem of his t shirt. “Nasa eh,” asks Froghorn, linking their ankles under the table. “It is cool, I don’t fully understand the science. Probably not like you,” answers Hitch, “you could probably make a machine that could reach the constellations.” “Freckles,” mutters Miles, “don‘t pay attention to them.”

“They are adorable,” answers Hitch, he can see the decoder reach over into his hand and trace Orion on his palm almost self-consciously.

“Adorable eh? I think you liking NASA is adorable,” answer Miles smartly, “you know nothing about it and you are still fascinated by it.” “Aliens.” “Aliens,” comes the repeat. “It is a possibility,” answers the field agent, “don't make fun of me.” “Imagine Ruby knowing you believe in aliens,” giggles Miles.

The meal is good and both men spend the night blushing, flirting (badly) and talking (easily) and at about nine pm Miles pays and Hitch starts to walk Miles home, leading him around some teenagers drunken by either liquor or the night. Miles tucks himself neatly into Hitch’s arm before unlocking the door. “Do you want to stay tonight?” Miles asks, “Blacker makes mean pancakes every Saturday.” “I don’t want to overstay my welcome, ”answers Hitch. Miles look softly at him, cupping his chin slightly “Art.”

Hitch can feel himself blushing, colour spreading from Miles’s hand over his face, Miles leans down slightly and catches his lips slightly, “stay on the sofa or something. I will stay on the sofa.” “I will stay on the sofa,” answers Hitch leaning up a little, “if you go on another date with me.” “Yeah,” whispers Miles, leaning back down to kiss him slightly more stronger now, more confident.

“You came home early,” says Blacker dropping his keys by the front door and hanging his coat up, “I didn’t expect you.” “I came home like half an hour after I left three weeks ago,” answers Froghorn. Blacker rolls his eyes, “yeah, because he was evil.” “He was evil,” Miles tells Hitch, “you are a gentleman.” “Gentleman? Tell that to Ruby,” laughs Hitch, “I am hardly a gentleman.” “Compared to the last person he went on a date with,” counters Blacker. “Don’t talk about my last dates with that person, he was still better then Kevin,” answers Miles embarrassed, “especially in front of Hitch.” “Miles, no offence. Anyone is better Kevin,” says Blacker. “Go away Ethan, I was happily kissing Art before you rolled up.” “Get a room,” answers Blacker, as Hitch leans up to kiss Miles gently holding his shoulder.

Miles leads Hitch up to his bedroom, the opposite of his office which is pristine because this room is awfully messy with books (a mixture of sc-fi and fantasy) and notebooks (awfully similar to Ruby’s) are stacked and scattered across the room everywhere except the bed which has a small homemade quilt over the top and Miles sits down on it. “Don’t ask about my lovelife,” he warns, “I will tell you when I want to.” “So long as I get you now,” says Hitch, “don’t care about your past, I can care about your future if you want.” Miles shrugs a bit watching Hitch move around the room picking up cracked spines and funny named authors, carefully ignoring the notebooks- some of them may be too private to share right now or ever he did not want to flick through someone’s dairy after their first date.

“You should read that one,” points Froghorn, “it is very good.” Hitch picks it up and reads the blurb- flicks through the pages and notice the small print of the agent as he has written his own annotations. Places it next to where he sits as he moves to be in a closer space to Miles who is fiddling with his hair. Hitch opens the book and leans against Miles before reading quietly whispering words, under his breath as he reads.

“Art,” he asks, causing the agent to look up sharply from his book, “can we do this again sometimes?” “Yeah,” says Hitch, “do you want me to go?” “No no continue reading please,” comes the quick reply as Froghorn pulls a notebook out and starts to scribble as Hitch goes back to whispering words about mystical lands, letting occasional distractions from Miles pull him away.

[hybridfiction]

February 2020 Free Content: "Ear Worm" by Lena Ng

Elmer, for the sixty-third time that day, hummed that stupid song in his head out loud. “Tooda do, tooda dee, tooda doodle do,” he sang. He hummed it as he filled the coffee machine. He hummed it as he took a shower. He aggravated everyone around him on the bus and while waiting in line at the Value Mart. Damn earworm, as his mother would say, for a snippet of song stuck in a mental loop. It played over and over in his mind. In some faint way, Elmer knew how annoying he was. But he couldn’t get it out of his head.

He was humming that blasted song later that evening as he was emptying the dishwasher. In the middle of the refrain—

CRASH

Something big had banged against the house. It rattled the aluminum siding. A discharge of blue light filled his country-style kitchen. Cautiously, he peered out the kitchen window.

Squinting against the blue light, Elmer stared at the smoking hole in his yard, the grass flattened and burnt. A large rock, glowing a faint blue with a surface pocked with craters and larger than his head, indented the centre of his carefully manicured yard. A meteorite with an interesting, radiation-blue glow.

Elmer’s heart leapt with excitement. A gift from the cosmos. And it could hold aliens. Aliens! All his life he had awaited their arrival. He had the tinfoil hats (which he shaped into antennae, all the better to hear them with), the bug-eyed, big-headed plastic models, and the complete series of The X-Files on DVD, lovingly watched and re-watched as he had developed—as most fans had—a fierce crush on Dana Scully. Wouldn’t it be amazing if he—Elmer P. Elmsdale—discovered extraterrestrial life?

He threw off his apron as he raced from the house. Elmer stood at the edge of the smoking hole and stooped to examine his find. A beautiful, smoking, glowing rock. As the smoke dissipated and the glow slowly dampened, Elmer extended a hand and cautiously touched the rock. Warm, but not hot. Rough. He placed a hand on either side of the rock and loosened it from his yard. It wasn’t too heavy when he picked it up and brought it back into the house.

***š›

On the coffee table, the blue light faded away at last. “Hello?” Elmer called out to the rock. “Is there anybody in there?” He studied the rock from every angle—from eye level on the coffee table, from directly overhead, from lying on the floor. He examined it with a magnifying glass. He peered into its crevasses. He poked, with a pencil, its craters. He rocked it and tapped it and turned it over and over.

Just as Elmer was about to give up and go to bed, a trio of tiny eyes on a tiny round head burst out of the rock. It was as if someone glued a triangle of plastic eyes on the head of a blue earthworm. Elmer shrank back. The worm did as well. Elmer leaned forward. “Hi, little guy,” Elmer cooed. “Don’t be frightened.”

The worm made a trilling sound as it again poked out of the rock. “Aww,” Elmer said. “You have nothing to worry about, I come in pe—”

Emitting a small cloud, the worm shot out of the rock. Elmer felt a slimy jolt and an alarming wriggle. He clapped a hand over his ear. What the heck? Damn thing invaded his ear canal. He poked in his pinky and rooted around.

<Cut that out,> the voice inside his ear said.

Elmer and his little finger halted. He plucked his finger out of his ear. “Uhh, what’s going on?”

A small, unnerving waggle. < I’m a traveller exploring the galaxy.>

“Does it have to be in my ear?”

<It’s a fast and easy way to get around. No limbs, you see. Undetectable, too. Most people are hostile to aliens, human or otherwise. All this ‘alien abduction’ and ‘they’re stealing our jobs’ business giving us a bad rap.>

Elmer thought about what the worm said, and it seemed to make sense. “What do you want me to do?”

<Just go about your day. We can start in the morning.>

Elmer went upstairs and tried to get some sleep. In the comforts of Elmer's ear canal, the worm gave a light, trilling snore.

***

Elmer staggered into the bathroom. He turned on the shower. After running for two minutes, the glass shower doors began to steam up. Worm or no worm, Elmer couldn’t help but relax while standing under the hot water. “Tooda do, tooda dee, tooda doodle do,” he sang as he soaped away.

As Elmer dried off, his singing filled the small bathroom. As he started shaving, the worm popped its head out, assessing them both in the steamy mirror. <Why are you singing that song all the time?>

“I’ve got an earworm.”

<Another one?>

“It’s deep in my brain, and I can’t get rid of it.”

Elmer felt the alien worm pop back into his ear. It squirmed, burrowing deeper. <How did it get in there?>

Elmer’s nerves went off like a five-alarm fire. “My brain? What's it to ya?”

<Just askin’. Not like we're trying to take over Earth.>

"WHAT?"

<Haha,> the worm laughed weakly with a trio of shifty eyes.

***

Elmer spent the next day announcing his exciting discovery. He called up his parents who listened patiently. He resurrected a long-abandoned blog. He posted it on Facebook and got thirty-seven “Likes.” He called NASA and left a voicemail.

Over the next week, Elmer showed the worm the town. They went to the aquarium and ogled the octopuses. They skipped on the freshly-cut grass in the park, carefree as little girls. They munched on popcorn at the movies. They browsed for avocados at the farmer's market; they puzzled over post-modern art at the gallery; they cruised through the Science Center, where, when asked about its home planet, the worm vaguely waved to the space left of Neptune.

But, after two weeks, like the saying of fish and guests, the worm overstayed its welcome. The constant tickle of the alien grew into a deep-seated itch, a rash which seemed to extend into Elmer's brain.

After another busy day of sight-seeing, an exhausted Elmer asked, while flopping on the couch, "When are you going?" The itching was slowly driving him crazy. Maybe the worm shed a protein that sensitized him over time. He had taken to walking around with a Q-tip in his ear, disregarding his ridiculousness.

In contrast, the alien worm stretched out in its comfortably-warm, ear canal abode. <Thanks for taking me around. I really like it here. I think I'll stay.>

"In my ear?"

<Why not?>

"You can't stay there."

<Why not?>

"Because you're itchy and wiggly and you talk all the time. No offense."

<You constantly hum to yourself and you smell like salami and—I don’t even have hands—but I know you scratch yourself in terrible places. No offense.>

Elmer jammed the Q-tip around in his ear. The worm stretched, dodged, and ducked. "You get out, or I'll get you out."

The worm crawled in deeper than Elmer's Q-tip dared to follow. <Make me.>

***š›

Deep in the emergency room, surrounded by impatient, suffering patients, Elmer was causing a commotion. He was screaming, "I said, get out, get out, GET OUT!" Each “get out” was punctuated with a punch, from Elmer's own fist, to the side of Elmer's own head. The triage nurse, wearing a starched white cap and uniform, pretended to review some paperwork as she inched her hand under the desk to the panic button.

Elmer realized the rest of the patients were staring at him. He snatched the paperwork from the triage desk and shuffled to an empty seat in the crowded waiting room, digging fruitlessly with his finger into the offending ear.

A few seats over, nudging his son, an annoyed dad pointed at Elmer and said in a loud stage whisper, "And that's why you don't stick anything in your ear."

The alien worm started giggling. <Guess you didn't listen to your dad.>

"You leave my dad out of this."

<Your momma…>

"YOU LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!” Elmer roared. More shocked stares, and Elmer muttered through the side of his mouth, “Can you keep it down? Everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

<If you had some discretion, people would think you were talking on a cell phone.>

“You know about cell phones?”

<I'm a talking, travelling, interplanetary worm. We're waaaay past cell phones.>

Finally, Elmer's name was called to be assessed by the physician. A gangly, cadaverous doctor ushered him into an evaluation room with a white tiled floor and glaring fluorescent lights. After Elmer nervously settled into the examination chair, the doctor intoned, "From all the screaming and punching in the waiting room, you sound like you're having a psychotic break. How long have you been hearing voices?"

Elmer gripped the chair's padded arms like he was riding a rollercoaster at Disneyland. "I'm not crazy, just look in my effing ear!"

<Haha, earth fool. Think you can get rid of me so easily?>

"Get out of there!"

<Never!>

Humoring the bellowing, belligerent nutcase, the doctor hummed to himself as he calmly poked at Elmer's ear canal with his medical tools. His invading utensils halted. "What do we have here?" He gave an excited chuckle. "A blue-coloured parasite. Don't see one of those every day." The doctor rummaged in a drawer for a syringe of lidocaine which would kill the worm, and a stainless steel hook.

Elmer felt a shotgun blast of air as the worm burst from his ear. As though the worm had pulled a parachute's ripcord, in an eruption of tremendous growth, the alien worm transformed into a massive, three-eyed, Jabba-the-Hut-sized slugbeast. It stretched open its cavernous mouth and—

GULP

The corpse-like doctor disappeared down the alien worm's gaping black hole of a maw.

The explosion of air shot Elmer across the room. The room went black as his head bounced off a wall. He felt the cold tiles slam into his face as his cheek hit the floor.

***š›

Blink.

Blink blink.

Blink blink blink.

With the palm of his hand, Elmer smeared crusty saliva across his swollen face as he picked himself off from the floor. Surgical instruments lay scattered all around him. No one in the room but him. Elmer slowly straightened with a rusty bike-chain creak. Like the doctor said, he must've had a psychotic break. But everything was okay now. Everything was okay now. He had stopped hallucinating. No more annoying alien worm, no more massive slugbeast…

But still an itchy ear…

<Burp>

The sounds was real quiet, like a belch in church.

"How the hell are you still in my ear?" Elmer grabbed a surgical pick which looked like a thin dagger from the floor. If the alien worm was gonna eat the damn doctor, he was going to have to spear the worm himself. With the sharp pick positioned at the entrance of his ear canal, like a fencer, Elmer delicately lunged the pick to the left. Then he angled the instrument and parried to the right. All the while the worm wiggled samba. Finally, he felt the squirmy body press up against the bottom of his ear canal. He made a desperate stab and—

"AAAAAAARRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!"

Elmer had punctured his eardrum. The horrific pain was like—obviously—an icepick to the head. He squeezed his eyes shut as he clapped his hand over the injured ear. Seizing the advantage, the worm swiftly slipped slimily through the rupture and burrowed into Elmer's brain.

***š›

Staring directly ahead, in a zombie-like trance, Elmer monotonously murmured, "Tooda do, tooda dee, tooda doodle do," as he flashed the green laser light from the black-shingled roof of his house. The pattern of flashes, translated from alien Morse code, was an interstellar version of, "Come on in, the water is fine." Throughout the cosmos, an array of lights flashed back.

Satisfied its work was done, the alien worm gnawed further into Elmer's brain. Searching for a mate, it tunneled deeper, leaving chewed-out worm trails as it crawled high and low in dogged pursuit of the other, elusive, singing earworm.

About the author: Lena Ng is from Toronto, Ontario. She has short stories in close to three dozen publications, including Amazing Stories. Her 2020 forthcoming publications include Mother Ghost’s Grimm, Beer-Battered Shrimp, What Monsters Do for Love, Schlock Magazine, and The London Reader. Under the Autumn Moon is her short story collection. If you want to contact her or join her mailing list for story updates, please email: scarystorygirl@hotmail.com

Thank you, Lena!

[portfolioshowcase]

Interview, Paul Hoi - On a Different Plane

Paul! What kind of dreams you have? 

I dream of all sorts of things, as most semi-functional humans do, but ever since I  went to New Mexico, there’s been recurring dreams of White Sands, or a landscape that’s really similar to that — an open space like White Sands or Bad Water Basin at Death Valley that’s under a soft, diffused light.  And there’s a looming feeling that there’s a transition happening, whether it’s going to get dark soon, or that I need to go somewhere or find something.  I had that feeling when I first started going out to Death Valley on my own, so maybe it’s a part of that.

I also had a dream recently of a fast food spot that opened under my apartment, and they were selling Kit Kat bars along with their meals.  I was pretty bummed when I woke up and realized it wasn't real.

Do you feel that sometimes your subconscious is creating the photographs for you or in some way controlling how you create?

I think that’s always at work once you have a basic grasp of the instrument you’re working with.  Echoing your last question, I think I’m drawn to a sense of openness in my travels and in my photos.  I like the desert for that reason, and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become a bit more averse to crowds or groups in general, especially in interior spaces.  When that obvious openness isn’t there, I try to plan my shoots or use my camera in a way to allow that feeling of openness to reveal itself.

Some of the photographs feel like a whisper, vague as if a fading memory or a dream. Is this how you see the world or you ought to see it?

I think so.  I think a significant part of it has been my experience as someone who grew up in another country before coming here at a young age.  I grew up in Hong Kong and came to the States when I was nine.  It was a very decent childhood, both here and abroad.  But it was massively confusing, and it’s felt as though most parts of my life, all the way down to my sense of home, language, and so on, are a bit in flux.  It’s a common story for lots of immigrants, I think, but I was lucky enough to stumble on the arts to learn to articulate these things for myself.

I think as I got a bit older and started doing trips out to the desert and abroad, that feeling of transience on my own life evolved into other questions.  Anyone who’s been out to the desert can tell you a bit about that feeling of massiveness and age that exudes from the land.  You’re just surrounded by things that have been here long before you came and will be around long after you and others have passed.  You’re looking into the past and future all at once.  The sands, the stars, the hills, the moon.  It’s a very humbling feeling, with a quiet, underlying sense of terror that you’re lucky just to be there as a tiny, cosmic blip.  The desert doesn't give a shit about your career or social circles.

Can you recall the moment when your pre-determined idea of reality was shaken and you were introduced to a more psychedelic world?

Going off of the last question, I think coming to the States was the earliest event that resembles something like that.  I remember being at the Hong Kong International Airport when I was nine, seeing adults around me crying and hugging each other as we stood in front of the terminal.  There were these huge, staggered panels in front of the terminal that block you from seeing what was on the other side.  It was my first time flying, and even though I’d told my friends and myself that we were moving to the States for years, I obviously didn’t understand what was happening.  I remember the yellowish lights at the airport, the high ceilings, and I remember that weird feeling of knowing there'll be massive, impending transition for everyone who was going to the other side of those panels, and that I was going to be a part of that.

I don’t remember anything between that and waking up intermittently after we were picked up at the San Francisco Airport at night.  I remember waking up in my aunt’s car and seeing the lights on Golden Gate Bridge, falling asleep again, and then making out the vague shapes of the rolling Sonoma County hills.  I really felt as though I’d really entered an alien world.  I wasn’t sad about it at the time - I was excited, even, but it was obviously confusing, and the whole experience left a deep impression on me that things and circumstances can change quickly.

Other than that, I’ve experimented with psychedelics, and it’s been quite beneficial for me, creatively and otherwise.

..how do you feel towards reality now? Is it still subjective or universal? 

I’m not really sure.  I go back and forth on questions like that.  I think at large, the world is made up of subjective differences, and people find their own journey and others like themselves by engaging in these differences.

Can you walk us through your process, exactly, how these moments come to life through you? 

Sure.  It’s fairly straightforward, to be honest.  If I hear or see or read about somewhere that left an impression on me, I usually try to research and plan a trip around that thing.  I’d scour the internet for any places that seem interesting in that region.  I usually get a map, markdown everywhere that I’d like to go, then edit down the trip depending on budget and time.  I used to plan thing down to every single day and every single thing I’d like to shoot, but as I’ve gotten more comfortable traveling on my own, I’m a lot more relaxed in my planning.  Nowadays I keep the itinerary shorter, leave buffer days in-between key locations, and I just keep my eyes and mind open as I’m on the road.

I like to play with different equipment, so the equipment varies quite a bit from one trip to another.  The most recent trip I was with New Zealand was shot with a modified infrared mirrorless camera, which was really fun.  On another trip, I brought an 8-lb medium format with me on a three-week trip through the Atacama Desert and Patagonia, which was incredible in its optic quality but was very challenging with its size and operating mechanisms.  I bought that same medium format along with a Minolta instant camera with me to the Arctic Circle, and the temperature gave the development of the Impossible Project film pretty otherworldly colors.  I have lots of different experimental filters I like to play with - diffraction sheets, star splitters, etc.  It’s good to experiment, as the challenge of different equipment can help you re-engage with a familiar process from a different angle.

After I come back from the trips, I spend a few days editing down the photos and depending on the scale of the trip, I try to have about 10-20 photos that make up a rough ‘series.’  I then begin post work on each of those photos, and occasionally revisit the other raws — sometimes I might find some that aren’t strong shots per se but do a good job of tying the other shots together.

Stars have been a major element in your photographs. What attracts your towards the astral? 

Well, I think I’m attracted to the night in general.  I’m an incorrigible night owl, and I really enjoy shooting after other people are gone.  Again, it allows that sense of openness.  I love shooting under the full moon, because it'll likely be empty, and the breadth of the landscape almost seems to extend further under the even light.  It almost seems to repaint a familiar landscape into an otherworldly dimension.  When I was in the Atacama Desert, I really wanted to photograph the Hand of the Desert sculpture, which is a massive 11-meter tall stone sculpture in the middle of nowhere, and about an hour outside of the nearest city.  I scouted the location during the day, but when I drove back around midnight, pulling up my car and seeing the giant hand slowly lit up by the headlights of my car was pretty wild.  That region has the clearest sky in the world, and NASA deploys missions there because it’s more similar to the terrain of the moon than anywhere else on earth.  

I also think the stars and the moon are probably the most self-evident signs that we’re guests passing through in a massive space, regardless of where you are on this planet.  I think on top of the sense of openness that I’m attracted to, I'm drawn to that idea at large.

..and has there been any experiences on the astral plane of consciousness?

Interesting question.  I do think there’s a very special feeling of adventuring and photographing under the full moon, of seeing massive, sun-soaked landscapes under a softened, diffused moonlight.  Planning a trip, taking time off, saving money, and finally being out there on your own seemingly in the middle of nowhere under the moon, trying to create a beautiful thing.  There’s nothing like that when it works out, and it always works out in its own way.

Is there any specific artist or genre that you listen to - and how does it affect your creativity?

I actually stay away from listening to music as I’m shooting or editing.  I don’t like that the music might potentially be filling in a part of the photo that isn’t actually there.  I want the photo to do that on its own whenever possible. That said, I listen to lots of music.  I really like ambient music like post-rock and post-metal -- Red Sparowes, the Album Leaf, Jonsi/Sigur Ros, Explosions in the Sky, Pelican, Russian Circles, etc.  I also really love Tycho.  Every now and then, I like to go back to droning hardcore like Defeater and Modern Life is War.  As of late, I've gotten more into retro electronic music like Kavsinky, MOON, and Perturbator.  I guess the genre is called Synthwave?  The Hotline Miami soundtrack is great.

Lastly, what would you like to suggest or share with other photographers?

I think the photographers whose work I’ve always been drawn to are people who lead interesting lives, and them being photographers is almost a footnote to what their lives are like.  I think it’s important to do that - to relax on the self-conceived identity as a 'photographer' every now and then, fall in love with something outside of photography, and pursue it genuinely while having a camera at your disposal.  

Interview with Paul Hoi

http://www.paulhoi.com

https://www.instagram.com/paul_hoi/

Interviewed by The Portfolio