About Martha Fawcett

Martha Fawcett is founder and honorary curator of Martha Fawcett Archives. Just before she was born, Jana Nova, Executive Director of the Janaforma Clearinghouse Project, brought the Gathering’s attention to her waiting potential. Jana Nova described Martha as if her achievements were a fait acompli. “She will be lively, a curious artist, a person with an excellent imagination and acute receptive skills.” Martha was born an Aquarian in the heart of the American Midwest. Growing up in Tiffin, Ohio, in the middle of the Twentieth Century, it was a hotbed of “Alien Invasion” stories, rumors about “Area 51,” and tales of a mysterious race of humanoids called, “The Grays.” With the powerful genetic influence of the Fawcett storytellers in her blood, Martha became a writer of science fiction. Shortly afterward, we introduced ourselves to her and she offered to help us disseminate the Janaforma message to Humanity. Many Janaforma individuals took an interest in educating her. It took years to teach her the various planetary languages and for her to fully understand the Janaforma concept of Community. Our relationship with Martha has not been strictly a one-way street. Through her, we have learned much about how Humans view the universe and the seminal denial they soon will carry with them into the stars. Meantime, we continue to work with her through the Martha Fawcett Archives and trust that our message will find a way into your hearts. Biographical sketch by Jana Sante of The Mother

The Roswell Incident: How the Future Impacts the Past by Martha Fawcett

Female Ganet Cerribeame with enhanced head feathers.An

An interview with Miro Rugen

by Sonya Gifford

Miro Rugen is a twenty-seven bio-year Janaforma consort, a descendant of the twenty-two original Janaforma created by the geneticist Simon Forma in the Hattonian year 2603. Doctor Miro received cis (his/her) undergraduate degree at Aeternus University in Space Ethics and Engineering and cis doctorate at the Cerribeame Academy on Calypso where ce (he/she) focused on Advanced Vitasphere Technology and Gravity Field Manipulation. Miro now serves as CEO of Trans-Orion Technologies.

Trans-Orion Technologies manufactures vitaratthas, vitaspheres, and biological interface ships such as the Lavrué. Miro Technologies also produces a wide range of space-related equipment including the spot speaker, control-glove technologies, and Ploorn (a molecular reinforcing agent used for emergency repairs in open space). Most importantly, Trans-Orion Technologies holds exclusive patent rights to nano-polymicroflex, a critical component in stealth technology.

The Janaforma have a reputation for being elusive and Doctor Miro is no exception. For the last three years, every freelance journalist in the Hattonian Hub was vying to snag an interview with Miro Rugen. When a troller contacted me with a lead, the message was typically cryptic. “Solid lead, Miro, 2 shs,” which meant she was giving me two space hours to decide before offering the lead to the next hungry journalist. I was on the planet Teras, in the Trujillo System, where I was covering a boring story for Off-World News on the annual Ice Sculpture Festival. This was my first assignment in three months and I needed work. If I ditched the festival, Off-World News would never use me again. For an hour, I paced around my hotel room trying to decide between paying my rent and paying the troller. Then I did what I knew I was going to do all along. I called the troller and she said, “One thousand Delta Urbanaian chedars. I’ll wait.”

I made the credit transfer and attached the message, “This BBG. I’ll be eating ramen noodles for the rest of the month.”

Two minutes later, my skimpy lead arrived. “Bougon Ture, Trinity Hotel.”

It was pitch black when my shuttle landed on Bourgon Ture. Later when Stella Campus rose above the horizon, the burnt umber landscape would warm to a toffee brown. At midday, blinding light would glare off the few, slick nobs still left on the surface while the stark shadows would conceal the depth of the impact craters below. Craters were deep on Bougon Ture, some going down thousands of meters into rock. At the crater bottoms is where most of the sentient action was happening. My shuttle made a sharp arc to the left before landing on one of the higher crater shelves. Below, the milky lights of Bougonree Complex were barely visible through the polluted layers of the forcefield.

Bougonree Complex was virgin territory for me, but it made little difference. The more I commuted around the Orion Spur, the more these corporate-created spaces numbed my senses. Most space complexes were aggregate structures, held together with spit and string. Bougonree Complex was without a spark of whimsy anywhere, a world where commerce and speed-to-market took easy precedent over esthetics. A few potted plants stood here and there, condemned martyrs from another world.

Moving walkways skirted both sides of the main promenade and funneled arrivals forward, spitting us out at the opposite end. I spied a bank of elevators that took passengers to the various connected hotels. While I waited for my elevator to arrive, I used my spot speaker to call the desk clerk at the Trinity Hotel. “I have an appointment with Miro Rugen in twenty minutes and I’m running late. Would you please call cis room and tell cim (him/her) Sonya Gifford will be a late and—why don’t you just connect me and I’ll tell cim myself.” It worked and a few seconds later, I was speaking to Miro Rugen, explaining I was a journalist, and working on a story concerning dimensional breaches.

To my eternal surprise, Miro said, “I would love to discuss dimensional breaches with you. Give me an hour and I’ll give you two. But please don’t be late because I’m pressed for time.” An hour later, I stood outside room 2211, took a deep breath, and congratulated myself on my journalistic prowess at landing the interview.

Miro Rugen opened the door and I was standing before a tall, lean Janaforma consort in cis mid-twenties. The silver flash of the vitarattha attached to the pocket of cis immaculate white shirt immediately caught my eye. “Come in,” ce (he/she) offered with a simple nod. “If you’re hungry, room service just brought sandwiches and tea. While I helped myself to a sandwich wedge and set up my microdex, Miro Rugen demonstrated the ability to rearrange our chairs like a man and pour tea like a woman. The fascinating seesaw between the masculine and feminine was seamless, yet noticeable. This sexual balancing act in a Janaforma consort is what they refer to as “enewetak,” which means, “appealingly balanced between beautiful/handsome.” Whatever Miro was beyond enewetak, it was clear that ce was a genetic thoroughbred. “Before we get started, I want to know how you knew I was on Bourgon Ture?” asked Miro.

“I’ve wanted an interview with you for the last three years. A troller called me a few hours ago with a lead. I paid her one thousand Delta Urbanaian chedars and she sent me the information that you were on Bougon Ture at the Trinity Hotel.”

“I see. Henceforward, I’ll need to be more careful.”

“I’m not here to cause you trouble nor do I harbor political agendas. I paid a thousand chedars and would pay it again because I have questions I believe only you can answer.”

“Questions about dimensional breaches?”

“Three years ago, I began working on a series of articles concerning dimensional breaches. Since then, I’ve had some fascinating conversations with several knowledgeable individuals on the subject. Curiously, your name continually keeps surfacing. One person in particular told me, ‘Talk to Miro Rugen. Ce knows more about dimensional breaches than anyone alive.’”

“Who is this particular person?”

“He calls himself Spekgodski.”

Irony tinged Miro’s smile. “Yes, Stealth Spekgodski. He used to be part of an elite regiment of 2,000 Damarian mercenaries. Told me he once worked for the Orion Spur Alliance as a spy. He still had his Doberman ear implant, but said it didn’t work anymore and made terrible buzzing sounds in his head. Maybe that’s why he was so jumpy.”

“Did he show you the holographic video in his possession?”

“He did; in fact, we walked through the video together. He claimed the video was shot on the planet Earth, a few hours after a spaceship crash-landed there in 1947.” A bemused expression slowly came to dominate Miro’s face. “Spekgodski said he wanted verification from an expert on the type of ship it might be and about markings on the superstructure found among the debris. He was so secretive I thought the video contained classified information on some new spacecraft technology, but the video was nothing special. The ship was a generic Cerribeame rifter and the crash site was without distinction.”

“What about the markings on the superstructure?”

“The markings were Cuneate rilets. The words merely bits of instructions for task-specific androids that assemble those types of ships.”

“Do you think Spekgodski was on the level?”

“Let’s put it this way. While the video appeared to be an authentic crash site, Spekgodski offered me no hard evidence that the video came from Earth in 1947.” Miro hesitated before asking, “What’s your involvement is in this matter other than a good story?”

“It’s personal.”

“That’s obvious. The fact that you paid a troller a thousand chedars suggests your involvement is very personal.”

It was clear Miro expected me to reveal some of my backstory so I gave him the short, short, version. “When I was fifteen bio-years old, my mother and I were aboard the starship Omael. We were on our way to Earth to celebrate my grandfather’s birthday when the ship hit a dimensional rupture and was torn to smithereens.”

“I heard there were no survivors aboard the Omael.”

“You heard wrong; there were two. My mother and I were standing in a hallway when the Omael exploded. A Janaforma lifebearer was standing nearby and when she activated her vitarattha, she caught me inside the vitarattha’s forcefield and saved my life.”

“I’m sorry you lost your mother. Was the lifebearer a Vanguard Scout?

“No, but it was obvious she had extensive space training. She was a student at Oxford University and returning to school from spring break. We were stranded inside her vitarattha for several hours before we were rescued. During that time, we saw fourth dimensional creatures pouring through a rupture in space. She had enough sense to hide us. The Tyrowsian biodroid that finally rescued us called the creatures. ‘Veda kec Drone.’ Are you familiar with the term? In Cuneate, it means, ‘flesh eater.’ Mescale translates the expression merely as ‘predator’ while Universal uses the Word ‘carnivore.’”

“The cascade of interpretations flowing out of Veda kec drone reveal more about our endemic fears than the actual creatures you observed coming through the rupture. Tell me, Miss Gifford, is it intentional that you’ve not mentioned the name of the Janaforma lifebearer or the Tyrowsian biodroid who rescued you?”

“It’s necessary. All three of us wear the stigma of fourth dimensional contaminants.”

“It’s not a stigma; it’s a badge of honor. I, myself, am a fourth dimensional contaminant and proud of it.”

“That’s because you’re rich and famous. You tell people you’re a contaminant and everyone laughs. Maybe you haven’t noticed yet, but that’s not how it works for ordinary people. We have to hide. I had to change my name and undergo eye-pattern surgery just to elude security scanners.”

Miro Rugen leaned forward and patted my knee just as my grandfather used to do. “You’re a survivor. You took a bad situation and turned it to your advantage. I have a small confession to make. After you called me, I did a background check on you. You see, I’ve been burned in the past; trusted people that turned around and stung me.” Miro shrugged. “When I scanned your records, I couldn’t help noticing that you have an undergraduate degree in political science and journalism. It obvious, at least to me, that you are a journalist because you believe in the power of truth.” Miro seemed to have the ability to take the disparate events of my confusing life and reframe them in such a way that I actually made sense. On the verge of embracing this new inflated definition of me as a purveyor of truth, Miro popped my pretty balloon. “Despite your idealism, some of the statements you’ve made in your published articles are inaccurate.”

“I research and document everything I write.”

“Don’t try to defend yourself because you’ll twist yourself into a ridiculous loop. Your problem is too much research on the multidex, which leads to you repeating theories from the stagnant reservoir of the status quo. In an article you published just six months ago entitled, “Trade Routes & The Fabric of Space,” you wrote, ‘Humanity and Tyrowsians flew sorties along the Daleth/Tzaddic border for thirteen years. Both sides had profitable military/industrial complexes. Humanity manufactured biodroid thugs and Tyrowsians had “training schools” where they taught Cerribeame clones the art of ruthlessness. Millions died over the fight for space routes, yet the stalemate dragged on for thirteen years because no one had any incentive to stop the insanity.’”

“What’s wrong with that statement? It’s true! Fact checked and cross-referenced.”

“Sorry, but you don’t even know the real reason for the conflict. The war was never over space routes. The battle was for the minds and souls of third dimensional beings. The question was—would the Orion Spur Alliance sanction Regression, the drug of memory and community or somatime, the drug of forgetfulness and disconnection. The destruction of space routes was merely a way for both sides to destroy opposing markets. In another article entitled, “The First Rupture,” you wrote, ‘An unprecedented incident occurred when five Cerribeame rifters approached a thin membrane in third-dimensional space with their energy hooks fully extended. The membrane tore and the Cerribeame went through, making them the first to breach the timeline into the fourth dimension. Soon afterward, they used their newly discovered time-jumping advantage to initiate surprise raids on victims in this dimension.’ Time jumping was not discovered by the Cerribeame. For the last sixty thousand years, Shardasko Warriors from the Island Worlds of Gathos have used the permeable membranes between dimensions to jump time. While it’s true the Cerribeame used their newfound ability to jump time to initiate surprise raids on victims in this dimension, your suggestion that the Cerribeame penetrated the fourth dimension is blatantly false. Dimensional borders consist of energy threads that appear as wave-like strands. These strands trail outward on both sides of the border. We generally credit rifters for being the first ships to breach hyperspace, but hyperspace is nothing more than being within the flow of these time threads. It would be more accurate if you reported that Tyrowsian scientists discovered that accellarons are the life force in the quanta of the time threads and they created a ship capable of exploiting those accellarons.”

“I’m not a scientist, so some of the technical details I quote, I don’t completely understand.”

“The truth hides in the details, Miss Gifford.” Miro made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to be so starkly critical of your work. I do believe you have the potential to be a good reporter but what you need is direct contact with those who truly know. In fact, I’ve decided to help you. I have, what I consider, an excellent idea and hope you agree. You need access to knowledgeable people on these matters and I need help disseminating truth. Are you interested in tackling such an assignment?”

“I have no technical training. What could I do at Trans-Miro Technologies?”

“You would not be working for Trans-Miro Technologies, but another Janaforma organization. Don’t worry though, I carry some weight within this organization and with me as your mentor, you’re as good as in.”

“What’s the name of this organization?”

“The Clearinghouse Project.”

I was already prepared to say yes but managed to ask, “Would I get paid?”

“Of course. I will need to make a few calls and get a contract out to you. Read the contract carefully, sign it, and we’ll take it from there. Meantime, let’s put our minds together and see if we can unravel the mystery surrounding Spekgodski and his holographic video he showed us. I have a few ideas I’d like to run past you. To start with, have you ever heard of a creature called a graeymlin?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Life exists everywhere, Miss Gifford. Some life is so small we cannot see it while some life is so large it doesn’t see us. Even as we sit here together, life is moving through this underground hotel room, flitting in and out of existence while we remain unaware. The time threads between dimensions are alive with life too. In fact, it is native graeymlin territory—graeymlins fall into the so-large category—think whales, times ten. These massive creatures know how to negotiate dimensional time threads and they function as guardians between dimensions as they cruise up and down the timelines. They are highly regarded in other dimensions because they are the only creatures capable of carrying beings from higher dimensions into the heart of dimensional ruptures, places we call ‘chaos.’ Without graeymlins, no soul fragment retrieval would be possible.”

“Who is your source for all this information?”

“I am the source through direct experience and you may quote me on that.”

“But how—”

“It would take me hours to explain exactly how and right now I don’t have hours. Besides, you came here to probe my thinking concerning dimensional ruptures and ask my opinion on a video Stealth Spekgodski claims comes from Earth in 1947. Since your technical knowledge is spotty, allow me to give you some additional background on rifters and their involvement in this mystery. The energy hooks on rifters not only damage time threads, but the hooks are equipped with powerful parabolic reflectors that cause excruciating pain to graeymlins. When graeymlins become agitated, believe me, mountains move. While Tyrowsians were using Cerribeame clones to fight for minds and souls in this dimension, they also were using Cerribeame clones to slaughter graeymlins. Tyrowsians consistently maintained that graeymlins were fourth dimensional illusions. The Cerribeame clones had no individual value either because Tyrowsians bred them by the millions, gestating them in communal nativity vats. It was such a strange war. The graeymlins were brought to near extinction along this portion of the timeline and ten million Cerribeame clones died yet it was a war without one official casualty on either side.

“This is big news—”

“It wasn’t even big news when it mattered. Now it’s too late. When I scanned your published articles, I saw that you quoted Spekgodski in one of them and my curiosity was aroused. I decided to call a dear friend and get her opinion on the Spekgodski video. Her name is Ananel XX. She’s a Cerribeame clone created in the Tyrowsian cloning facility on Earth, on the continent of North America in the Montana region.

“You actually know a Cerribeame clone and are friends with her?”

“She more than a friend. I consider Ananel part of my family. Ananel told me that about sixty years ago, five Cerribeame rifters punctured the timeline and encountered three infant graeymlins, which they promptly murdered. A nearby graeymlin female went into a rage and began swatting her tail. Two rifters were destroyed, one was expelled back into this universe, and two held together and began ricocheting back and forth along the timeline. Following the path of least resistance, they emerged in the environs of Roswell, New Mexico on July 3, 1947. Why was Roswell, New Mexico the path of least resistance? Two years earlier, on July 6, 1945, Earthlings detonated a nuclear device near Alamogordo, New Mexico and damaged the time threads in that area. A month later, on August 6 and August 9, 1945, Earthlings detonated two more nuclear devices in Japan where even greater damage to the time threads occurred. Ananel believes that when the two rifters approached the area of the time thread damage in 1945, that it slowed the ships enough that they were able to get a bead on their physical location. From my own experience, I know this is exactly how it works. It’s easy to tell where you’re at by the stars, but exactly when you’re at, takes deliberate calculations.

“So you’re saying the two rifters saw they were near Earth, but didn’t know they were in the past?”

“Exactly. Spekgodski’s video contains some convincing evidence that the ship that crashed was attempting to regain control. The ship didn’t go down in one spot and it didn’t explode; it skipped over an area of almost a hundred kilometers leaving bits of its stealth hide behind.”

“What happened to the second rifter?”

“It held together and began searching for the cloning facility in Montana that they knew existed. They never found the facility because Tyrowsians had not yet built it. Fast forward three thousand years to the present time and Ananel tells me that when the Montana land first came on the market, Tyrowsians were ambivalent about building a cloning facility there. Then they discovered the second ship. It was partially covered with dirt but still intact. Nobody knew how it got there until they broke into it and listened to the oral logs. The surviving Cerribeame clones spent months in total confusion looking for a way to return to the future, flying back and forth between Montana and New Mexico attempting to find a permeable breach they might exploit. They never found one. When the Tyrowsians discovered the ship, they considered it a sign that they should build a facility there. As we all know now, Montana played a major role in defeating Tyrowsians. It’s an example of how the future can impact the past and how the karmic backwash from both times collides and causes unprecedented outcomes.”

“So who created the video and how did Spekgodski get it?”

“Ananel believes the video was made by the crew of the Cerribeame rifter found in Montana. They were the only ones that possessed the technology to create such a video because it sure was not available on Earth in 1947. How many hands the video passed through before it got to Spekgodski is anyone’s guess.” Miro glanced at the watch pasted to cis index fingernail.

“That’s a great story, but I’m not sure anyone is going to believe it.”

“Write it; put it out there and we’ll see.” Miro glanced at cis watch again. “Our two hours is nearly up and I did warn you that I’m on a tight schedule.”

“Of course I have many more questions.”

“You will need to save them until the next time. I haven’t yet told you about the variety of fourth dimensional being who are coming through the dimensional ruptures caused by the Cerribeame rifters.” Miro stood up and told me, “I’ll be in touch in a few cycles with the contract. Meantime, don’t try to contact me because it might be dangerous—dangerous for you, that is. I know how to reach you and I will. One last thing, take some of these sandwiches. They will only go to waste because I have to be out of here in the next half hour.” Miro escorted me to the door and a moment later, I was standing in the hallway with a bag of sandwiches wedges in one hand. If it wasn’t for the sandwiches, I might have thought I just awoke from a dream.”





Alone, Comments and Questions

Martha Fawcett says…

Weeks before beginning the book Alone, I was haunted by the thought of a woman who had isolated herself in space for eighty-one years and yet somehow reemerges to resume life. I had no plot, no characters, no title. Not too far into the creation of Alone,  a feeling of excited anticipation kept pushing me forward. Something important was going to happen to Mellé. Then, like in classic mythological imaginings of self-creation, she gives a piece of herself (her DNA) to a genetic engineer and the magnificent Michael springs forth from a drop of her blood

February 21, 2012 at 4:26 pm, Bill says…

I love the transition that Mellé goes through. Is she based on a real person or event? Can you tell me more about her?

Reply, February 23, 2012 at 12:36 pm, Martha Fawcett says…

No one character, including Mellé is based on a real person. I wrote Alone in the third person, which gave me some distance to hang above the fray and observe. Writing in the third person allows the writer to create scenes where the protagonist is absent, but it is more difficult to get inside a character’s head from the distance of the third person. Somewhere in the middle of writing Alone, I had an intense urge to write a book in the first person and I now prefer to write from this perspective. The writer and reader become the protagonist in the thick of the action. Thoughts that pass through the protagonist’s mind become a shared and intimate experience with the reader.

Mellé undoubtedly is a cobbled together archetype from the recesses of my mind, but the theme of “abandonment” is so universal, everyone has experienced it. In Mellé’s case, her mother died young (feminine guidance was missing from her life; so the male example becomes paramount in her thinking). Her father was an alcoholic, history professor who gave up caring about anything after his wife died. Mellé interpreted her mother’s death and her father’s capitulation as her own abandonment. I can see Mellé’s father a few months after his wife’s death. It’s Sunday afternoon and he has been drinking since Friday night. The house is a mess and dirty dishes are in the sink. He tells Mellé and her little brother, Kellin, “You need to grow up and take some responsibility for keeping this house in order.” Mellé takes over the job of caring for the house and her brother Kellin too. All she knows is abandonment, so when she runs away, she leaves a note pinned to the refrigerator (a place where we keep things cold). Mellé is nagged by guilt so the cycle of trying to create her ideals of family begins again and that is where Alone begins.

February 24, 2012 at 3:04 pm, Penelope asks…

Do you think you could really fall in love with an android?

Reply, February 27, 2012 at 2:02 pm, Martha Fawcett says…

How open is your mind to the possibilities of the future? If you are a person that judges others by the labels attached to them, then you probably are not going to get close enough to an android to fall in love with one. Labels attempt to limit and define, they are an easy way for the tribal mind (or current, accepted social order) to quickly identify something or someone and relay the acceptable/unacceptable decision to the group. The individual always must do the work to escape the tribal mind. Those who lack curiosity, are complacent, or allow fear of the tribe to rule their lives, will not not escape unless truth takes pity upon them and throws them into a situation as it did to Melle.

Escaping the tribal mindset is the theme of one of my favorite science fiction films, Alien Nation/Enemy Mine. A soldier from Earth crashlands on an alien world and comes face to face with an enemy soldier. The enemy is a reptile. Horrors! We all remember when Captain Kirk and the reptile Gorn have a slow motion fight scene on an alien world (One would think the Gorn reptile would be faster on such a bright sunny day). In both cases, strange things happen when Humans find themselves outside the influence of the tribal mind. The labels their separate societies established as truth, quickly falls apart. This is not a new story; this is a classic archetypal story and everyone knows what the outcome will be after the few opening scenes. This plot appeals to Humans because we all know it is true. We’ve all been given the gift of being in this situation. We meet someone beyond the noise of the herd, someone we once regarded as an enemy, taboo, an asshole and we find another being, someone like ourselves.

In Alien Nation/Enemy Mine, the Human and Reptile soldiers develop an authentic brotherly regard for each other. If that’s possible, then how much more compelling will it be for a Human to fall in love with an android or biodroid? When it becomes possible to create advanced androids and biodroids, one of the first things Humans will address will be esthetics. They will be beautiful; we will take pride in them and perhaps even regard them as our children. We will attempt to install our tribal mindset into them by giving them “prime directives” that will be difficult for them to overcome. In Alone, the biodroid Kyoto tells Melle, “My prime directive to love, to make sure Mr. Crysto happy and to serve well. Everything in programming fall under sub-heading after love. With Mr. Crysto gone, all purpose for living gone. Do you understand Mellé? A war go on inside Kyoto now—a war between programming and self-survival. Kyoto see much more now than see yesterday. Maybe tomorrow see even more. See now that Mr. Crysto thought Kyoto cheap imitation of real woman. Mr. Crysto love you. Miss Mellé accomplish what Kyoto could not do in seven year.”

Androids will be assembled into forms to serve specific purposes. If what is needed is a Human form, I can see whole industries created around “the quality and consideration of android esthetics.” In some nightmare of the future, I see Bert Parks, hosting the Miss America Android Pageant. All the judges would be genetic engineers with corporate ties. The problem with androids will not be in their lack of beauty, brains, or sexual attractiveness, but their innards. They are not biological. I’m a true believe in “direct experience” so I believe androids will never quite comprehend the chaos in the biological brain.

The biggest sexual temptation for biological being will be biodroids. Biodroids will have superior brain power, the ability to download and access huge amounts of information, while still needing to deal with their flesh and their feelings. Add to this package of attributes, the ability of a genetic engineer to recreate any physical feature in that biodroid that might strike the fancy of the creator. The line will be so thin between biodroids and biological beings, the only distinguishing difference might be, the intentions of the parents or genetic engineer that created the biodroid. In the future, one of the vital pieces of information on our medical forms might be, “Were you incubated in a womb or a nativity vat?”

If we expect to continue our explorations into space, we will need these genetically altered creatures. It’s painfully obvious that Humans of our ilk are not equipped to withstand extended periods of space travel. We can send androids or perhaps, we can modify ourselves through genetic engineering so some part of us might continue into the future. Today we ask, “What happened to the Mayans? Did beings come through the Cygnus Rift and carry them away?” The Mayans are still here; you can see them in the faces of the people of Central America. Someday, people of the future might ask, “What happened to Humans?” We may not look as we do now; but I have every hope that we will still be here in a form that best suits our environment.

christie@uab.edu, Chrystal asks…

Now that Mellé has reemerged to resume life, will she also resume aging? Alone ends on a note of new beginnings for Mellé and with resumption of aging, she will no longer have an eternity to accomplish all that she wishes. But mustn’t she conform to the natural laws confining all living beings?

Reply, 2012/03/22 @ 12:53 PM,  Martha Fawcett says…

Mellé is subject to the natural laws of this universe, but for some strange reason she was granted a brief reprieve. When she first lands on the planet Calypso, she discovers that her menstrual cycle has resumed. How is this possible when essentially she is 113 years old? She is like the last rose of summer that the frost has overlooked. Something is off balance in her life and she is out of sync with the universe. Mellé has spent 81 years alone in space yet still cannot reconcile her view of reality. Her only hobby is taking pictures which she “stores away in pretty boxes.” She is dissatisfied with her pictures because they are lifeless. Reality moves on, but leaves a snapshot of itself behind as evidence that it once was there.

Mellé’s resuming menstrual cycle is symbolic of her physical resurrection; it’s the beginning of a cleansing process that will “clean the slate” and readjust her view of reality and bring  her closer to truth. When Michael joins Mellé’s life, he will tell her, “Mysterious happenings occur to remind us that reality is much odder than we assume.” It is a gentle reminder to drop her assumptions because her present view of reality is about to collide with truth.

Mellé eventually moves to Earth and begins a life with Crysto Weaver whom she will marry. I know both these characters extremely well so I know how their marriage will evolve. Until now, Mellé and Crysto have followed different paths and their meeting at first seems like happenstance, but need brings them together.  Mellé arrives on Calypso just as Crysto is leaving; yet when they meet, the attraction is immediate on both sides and keeps them together. Behind the need and sexual attraction each has vital wisdom the other still needs to refine their evolving picture of reality.

Their marriage will endure and both will live full rich lives. Crysto’s complete devotion to Mellé will earn her undying respect and will have a great influence over her view of reality in lives to come. I believe in the evolution of consciousness through different lifeforms so Mellé might not personally have an eternity to accomplish all she wishes; but, her core beliefs will be pass on to her progeny who will either reject those beliefs or accept them and even refine them. I explore many of these themes in future books as my characters wrestle with the legacies left to them by their ancestors. Mellé and Crysto will have two children together. Their daughter’s name is Lily and their son’s name is Micah. Lily Weaver will have a daughter named Daisy Louisa Smith and Daisy Louisa will have a daughter named Jane Hibernian Smith. Jane Hibernian Smith is the protagonist in Together, book two of The Janaforma Trilogy.

As the Janaforma of the future evolve, they will test the natural laws of the universe. They discover that certain laws are absolute and others are mutable. They learn the most stringent laws guard the biggest secrets to our universe, which can only be understood through our continuing evolution.

Thanks for allowing me to revisit these characters. I have great respect for them and their journey. They have taught me by example.

Submitted 2012/02/22 at 8:30 PM, by Adam…

I don’t think Humans are programmed like androids. Humans have evolved to be able to grasp at moments of consciousness. History could be interpreted as a record of Humans grasping at these moments. Why should an andriod’s jumped programming persuaded me to think that androids, in some distant future, are sharing in our consciousness to an extent where we consider them equal?

Reply 2012/02/24 at 10:30 PM, by Martha Fawcett

The whole idea for me revolves around accepting and honoring diversities. Humans did not invent consciousness nor do we have exclusive dominion over it. Consciousness is bigger than Humanity and can’t be defined or limited. For all we know, consciousness might be a galactic cloud passing through the Orion Spur. A long time ago, some scrawny Humans emerged from their cave and got caught in the dust. That evening they discovered fire and the next morning they discovered how to create crude tools. If the galactic cloud of consciousness moves on, we might wake up dumb again.

You are right about the grasping. This, I believe, is the consciousness within us yearning to connect with unbound consciousness or our galactic cloud. I see this yearning as universal, a prerequisite for higher consciousness. If this yearning occurs in the brains of androids and they jump their programming, are we going to become the oppressors and deny androids their rights? Humanity will create androids and biodroids and they will be uncomfortably like us (better to highlight our denial). Alien races will create replicas of themselves, that will look and act like them. Our problem in the future will not be whether we consider these lifeforms our equals. The question will be, will they consider us their equal?

Submitted 2012/02/24 at 10:15 PM, by Adam…

I don’t think Humans are programmed like androids. Humans have evolved to be able to grasp at moments of consciousness. History could be interpreted as a record of Humans grasping at these moments. Why should an andriod’s jumped programming persuaded me to think that androids, in some distant future, are sharing in our consciousness to an extent where we consider them equal?

Reply 2012/02/25 at 8:22 PM. by Martha Fawcett


In the preamble to the American Constitution it says. “…to secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity.” My own life experience tells me that blessings can come and go as easily as inspiration. But the high rhetoric of the Constitution attempts to set up an atmosphere where the “blessings of liberty,” can be so ingrained in our way of thinking that liberty becomes  our natural state. When we learn about the months of work it took to write this document, I believe, the wording was not an accident. Our forefathers knew that liberty was fragile.

We live in a new time. We no longer say, “All men are created equal.” Notice in chapter 3 of Alone when Lady Mau mentions Thomas Jefferson and the American Constitution, she says, “‘All men are created equal.’”
“Only men?” asks Toshcinto.
“The word man or men was a metaphor in Jefferson’s lifetime for all life,” Lady Mau replies.

The American Constitution is not perfect. No sooner was it written than groups were excluded, women, slaves, native Americans, people of color, non-property owners. In some states, literacy tests, poll taxes, and religious tests were legislated into law. We still live in a country where gay/lesbians are denied full rights. So who will be denied their freedom in the future? In Alone, Mellé and Kyoto debate this very question. “What’s your criteria for determining if an android is ready for freedom?” asks Mellé.
“That easy to answer,” said Kyoto. “If android overcome programming, then android deserve freedom. Android not overcoming programming, no more than machine.”
In similar fashion, I might say, “If a Human overcomes its programming, then that Human deserves freedom. A Human not overcoming its programming is no more than a hunk of biological meat.”

Kyoto’s intelligence is a synergistic outpouring from the harmony of her parts. She is not a toaster, a car, or a bicycle that must wait for a sentience hand to plug her into an outlet. As we learn more about life on our own planet, our eyes are opening to greater realities. We see sentience (intelligence, social organization, and empathy) everywhere we look, from the Community of great African elephants to the society of ants that crawl around our back doors. This is the perfect time for Humanity to open their eyes a little wider, to see that once sentience takes hold of a person, the demand  for freedom will not be far behind. Those demands always will challenge our denial and force  us to the point of greater and greater inclusion. We all are One.