penthius

Who's maxed out? That was always the question, when preparing to send explorers out into the Sahel, as they'd nicknamed the purple sand and azure sky with brilliant yellow clumps of vegetation floating above the ground and sometimes sinking low enough to be nabbed by the prodigious jumping populace of the desert. The problem was, it was all mildly hallucinogenic. This made it fun, and it made people want to go adventuring, because the filters didn't catch whatever-it-was, and so it was like going on a mild trip, while still gathering scientific data and being useful. All very official. The problem came when you maxed out--

Inspiration: "Who's Maxed Out Yet? Giving is Imminent!" email from CONvergence.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: I like this. It is charming. It is oldskool SF. Unfortunately, it is also a particular kind of ridiculous oldskool SF that doesn't really sell well these days.

The bird migrations started early that year, to match the turning of the sun. They had hoped the birds would realize that it was the time to go sooner, but they hadn't known enough about the native species to be sure. There was great rejoicing when they realized that they wouldn't accidentally wipe out a species or several hundred, for that had been one of their fears. Yet, the turning of the sun was necessary. Its light was already dimming, and if they could not turn it to allow them to shut down and replace sections, they feared that it would go out, and a great deal more than a mere hundred or so bird species would go extinct. They had hoped that the birds would move. They had not realized that it was not only the birds that responded to the phase of the sun. They had not realized that their very--

Inspiration: An article about, um, bird migrations.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: I just really like the idea of turning the sun. Are clockwork worlds overdone?

"The leaves are lanceolate in shape," he muttered into his recorder patch as he edged closer. "They appear to be silver in the atmospheric light, and the thermal detector picks up more than passive heat. They are in fact an animal life form, despite their appearance of foliage." The leaves rustled warningly when he took a step closer. He stopped. THough he was in an environment suit, he was smart enough to pay attention to his surroundings, and he'd noticed that no other leaves moved when these ones had. "The leaves have moved. This may be an attempt to communicate or to warn me off. I will not approach closer at this time.

Inspiration: "lanceolate" - shaped like a spearhead.
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: I do like the idea of opening a story with a scientist who doesn't automatically do the stupid thing and get killed.

The cats of Mars were notoriously picky about what they ate. Visitors who wished to feed the creatures were encouraged to bring fresh food, preferably actual living fish. Much entertainment could be had by watching the kittens encounter fish for the first time, and it was a surefire way to make a friend for life if you were planning on coming back regularly. The cats of Mars had long memories, and one of those memories seemed to be devoted exclusively to who had brought them fish. Nobody understood exactly how the cats managed to track down these individuals, but without fail, when they put in to port, the cats were waiting. Not just any cats--the same exact cat that they had given the fish to. The port manager swore up and down that he'd never let the cats in, that he'd seen other cats there--

Inspiration: The Scientific American newsletter--topics included Mars, cats being picky eaters because they can't taste sugar, and something about the nature of intelligence.
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Entertaining, but only background, not main story. Kind of Heinleinian.

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Entries tagged with planet

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Max Out: science fiction

Turning the Sun: Science Fiction

Lanceolate: Science Fiction

The Cats of Mars: Science Fiction

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