Sample Chapters updated - draft 9.5 finished

I updated the sample chapters. I haven't posted for a while while I've been focused on getting a real job, and today most of that just fell apart on me. Trying to do something constructive, I finished this draft. Nothing major is changed outside of the first chapter, which is more visual, I hope.

As a reminder to myself (after all, no one reads this blog yet, except for me), getting the chapters formatted for posting consists of:

1) save the word doc as a text file
2) open with notepad and turn off word wrap
3) highlight the blank spaces at the front of the lines, copy that and past into 'find and replace' then replace with the html paragraph tag
4) copy the entire chapter and paste it into blogger's edit html screen
NB - the blank spaces wound up in two different formats, 4 spaces and 5 spaces. That was easily dealt with by doing this twice. Each chapter was consistent for it's length


This should be good for the whole book in html, but certainly each chapter cut and pasted in blogger properly.

Designing a book cover in word

I really have to learn to blog as I go, and not save things up. So, as a quicky, how does one design a cover in MS word? Your milage may vary, as I am using the very anoying Office 2007

The cover size will depend on the thickness of the book, but that can probably be finalized post the general design. The paper needs to be set to a size to cover both front and back and the spine. In Word, page layout -> page setup -> paper Select paper size as custom. For a 6 x 9 book with a need for a 1 inch spine, choose 13 x 9.

Now use text boxes to build the cover. For the spine, insert a text box, position it in the middle and find how to change the text direction. In 2007, there will be a 'text box tools' section and that will have a 'text direction' menu item. Use other text boxes for the front and back cover text. You will need to play with position, font size, etc.

For examples, I pulled random images from my hard drive to experiment with. So a cover with a small, contained picture, and one with a bright colorful picture stretched across the book.

Your other key needs are use of fill colors and send to back/front. Note that 'no fill' or transparent are not white. For the superman image, it has to be sent to the back and the text box fill has to be transparent.

Dog defends owner from mountian lion

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/05/06/hero-dog-saves-hiking-own_n_198228.html

I should be blogging about figuring out how to design a cover, but ...

Bloody Microsoft!

I just realized the sample chapters aren't formatting properly. It's just paragraph indentations, but they aren't there and aren't replaced with line breaks. So, cut and paste from bloody word doesn't work. Try saving as html; blogger doesn't like all that crap Microsoft includes in the auto generated html, and who can blame it? Try pasting to notepad - same loss of paragraph indents. Try RTF, that don't work. Word pad isn't here - did they remove it?

Sigh - I'll just have to take the time to put in the tags by hand. That will be a pain.

revised update - Word pad is there, but useless. Finally, I worked out, save from word to txt, it will insert 5 spaces for the indents. Open the resulting file with notepad. Then use find and replace to change 5 spaces to paragraph tag. Make sure wordwrap is turned off, cut and paste into the blogger edit html screen. The result is good.

By the way, the spelling check in blogger leaves an ugly mess of html behind it. Interesting.

Editing ongoing - Modified Sample Chapters

Editing is the most important thing right now. Kim has gone through several of the early chapters and I've incorporated those edits. It sparks some nice ideas on fleshing a couple of scenes out. I updated the posts for the three sample chapters. With an update note at the bottom of each, but I'm not really treating those as posts anyway.

The other primary editor I'm hoping to get detailed input from is Kim's good friend Becky. We had dinner with Becky and her husband last night, and it was rather funny what she had to say about the novel. I should have memorized her exact words, but she said she was pleasantly shocked that I can actually write. Not that she doubted it, just, a friend asks you to read something, that is dangerous territory.

I had a similar reaction from our neighbor when she came over last week. She has been very interested in the fact that I've been doing this, and when I read the first couple of pages to her, she was shocked that it was pretty good. I understand this quite well, actually. That's why I'm on bloody draft 9. I thought this thing would take 3 drafts and 6 months tops. I can honestly say, my wordsmithing sucked on draft 3, where I was still hammering out plot holes.

So, draft 8 is ready for serious editing, and draft 9 aught to be publishable. Sheesh, this thing has been work.

To Blog or not to Blog?

Pretty much everything that precedes this post is an experiment or planning for the future. The point of this thing is to ultimately sell my novel, A Girl and her Neodog .* In a way, this may be the first 'real' post to this blog.

So a little 'about', until I update the appropriate areas:

A Girl and her Neodog is the story of Kim and Rosie, a sort of near-future Nancy Drew with her talking service dog; a service dog genetically engineered for intelligence and equipped with a chest speaker and a pair of mechanical arms. Think Dr. Octopus's cuter, friendlier dog.

The characters are inspired by my wife and the extremely cool dog she had when we were dating, so Rosie is a Portuguese Water Dog, a breed that recently got a lot of publicity thanks to First Dog Bo Obama. The breed is hypoallergenic, which is important to my fictional use of them as super service dogs, and a reason the Obama's got Bo over a shelter dog.

I've recently completed the novel, although it needs editing from others. I call it 'complete' despite the lack of input from others because I massaged it to death for a very long time and I feel it is pretty solid at this time. I sent copies to a number of people, and started looking at selling and marketing.

The other point of this blog is to document the business journey of getting somewhere with this book. I'm looking at parallel pursuits of independent self publishing, print on demand publishing and traditional publishing. In the near term, I imagine posts will be much more about what I'm learning about publishing than about the book itself. Hopefully, that will get somewhere soon, and it will change to being about the second book in the series!

So, while I'm waiting for input from people (and trying to finagle real editing for future favors), I'm trying to evaluate three paths for hard copies. An ebook version is very simple to put up.I plan on a detailed post on that at some point; probably when I put it up. For hard copy, I've got three resources I like:

http://www.aventinepress.com/
Aventine seems to be the place to go to self publish with PoD and get into book stores. The plus in that, their pricing is right to get you into bookstores. The minus is, the margins are small, because they are setup for bookstores and online booksellers; they do not have their own order process. So it's sell only through Amazon, etc. and bookstores, or build/find your own online orders.
- Note: they must have some kind of back end. I need to dig deeper.

http://publishing.booklocker.com/
Booklocker has thier own order website, and, if the order comes through there, very high margins. There are a lot of other interesting resources on a no-frills looking website. Somehow, they give me a very nice feeling.

http://www.stoneinthesurf.com/
Rich Neumann is very inspiring. He is the friend of a friend, and I owe the man an introductory email. My bloody book took much longer to reach the 'fit to show others' point than I expected. Rich outlines the real do-it-yourself, going to the printer himself, bypassing the whole PoD system, and not breaking the bank. He is his own publisher, gets short print runs done such that the total upfront money is comparable to a PoD, but the cost per copy is much lower. If I were more confident of my abilities, I think this would be the way to go. He is very soup-to-nuts the independent publisher guy.

Curriously, only booklocker seems to have a real ebook strategy, although ebooks are simple enough to post to your own site.

Now, many I should clean up some the gadgets around this?


* Speaking of learning, there is no 'underline' button in the blogger post editor. I better find my old html references (I guessed right on the tag) and or find a good offline blog post editor.

A Girl and her Neodog - Chapter 3

A Girl and her Neodog

Chapter III

Rosie charged up the field at breakneck speed, every iota of her attention focused on intercepting the flying disc cutting an angle across her path. Stretching her neck out as far as she could, she snapped her jaws closed on the disc just before it stalled out and dropped to the ground.

Digging into the turf with all four paws and all but skidding to a halt, she shook the disc violently before looking up and around for her teammates. Only then did she blinkingly realize she was in the end zone.

‘Wheeeeet!’ Kim’s whistle cut through the air, “Point for the furs!”

Rosie capered proudly, lifting the disc triumphantly in her mouth. Four other neodogs charged up to join her, one of the four pouncing on a teammate for a quick wrestling match. Rosie uncoiled her arms from their rest position along her back and switched the disc from her mouth to a hand. She looked across the field of play at her friends on the opposing team.

The five neodogs of the other team, the ‘shirts’, were completing their charge for the opposite end zone with ample barking and tail wagging. They wore service dog style vests emblazoned with the blue and white star logo of Sirius Bio-Engineering.

The field of play was a nominal soccer field, part of the excellent facilities included in the office complex that housed Sirius Bio. The game, however, was the great highlight of neodog social life – Ultimate Frisbee.

Kim stood on the sidelines at mid-field, one arm in the air, whistle in her mouth. Human Ultimate players would referee themselves, according to the ‘spirit of the game.’ Neodogs, in all fairness, required a little help making accurate calls. Another change, an unofficial one, was a complete lack of concern with the score. Kim tracked it in her records, but while the neos cared deeply about the next point, they never expressed interest in the final result.

Once she scanned the field and saw that all her players were in place, Kim dropped her arm and blew her whistle to signal the ‘pull.’ Rosie threw the disc downfield with an uncoiling of her arm. The neodogs began their charge, accompanied by their own thunderous barking. Ultimate was a fast paced game when played by humans, when played by neodogs it was insane.

Sweating in the hot summer sun, Kim trotted up and down the field, but following the rapid play was more a matter of eye motion and concentration. Cheers sounded behind her from the couple dozen people gathered on the sidelines. Most of them were Sirius Bio employees, but, as always, there was a smattering of others including a pair from the earlier meeting.

The furs intercepted a long throw from the shirts, who immediately got possession back as one shirt dashed in front of the only furs player in a forward position. Kim found back passing to be a challenging concept for all the neos except perhaps Gabby. When the furs intercepted again on the very next pass, the crowd broke out in laughter and clapped heartily. The dogs, as always, were enthusiastic, loud and very fast, but strategy was not one of their strong suits.

She blew her whistle as the shirts scored a point, and the teams changed sides. She took a moment to wipe sweat from her eyes and then signaled the next pull. The neos charged full tilt at each other and the game resumed.

Kim had a lot of experience running these games, and she truly enjoyed the accompanying cacophony of barks and cheers. The noise meant her charges were happy, the onlookers were happy, all was right with the world. The background noise had become an atonal symphony for her, but today a jarring note intruded, an unpleasant chanting. “Just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs….

About a hundred meters from the playing field, distinctly on public ground rather than the office complex’s property, stood a couple dozen placard carrying protestors. It was the largest such group they had ever had, for the first time approaching the size of the crowd of fans.

One of the protestors had been haranguing the others the last time Kim had looked their way. From the sound of it, his group had gotten their act together and moved on to this charming chant: “…just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs…” She resisted the urge to look, settling for a disgusted head shake. She needed to keep her eyes on the game.

As if to reinforce that point, a key play happened just then. Gabby, in the blue and white vest of the shirts, caught the disc with a snap of his jaws just outside of the end zone. He quickly pulled it out of his mouth with his left hand, swiveling his head for a target. He spotted an open player and let fly, but not directly to her.

The disc flew into the end zone and a black, white and blue bolt of lightning shot forward and snapped it out of the air. The lightning bolt was a Porty derivative named Bellatrix, usually shortened to ‘Bella.’

‘Wheeet,’ went Kim’s whistle, “Point for the shirts!” Gabby had the best aim and the best strategic sense of any of the neos. He was the only one who really seemed to understand throwing where the player could be instead of where the other dog was. As a coach, Kim’s assessment of the rest of them of them was that they threw better than random - barely.

“…just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs…”

Kim used the break in play to throw a dirty look at the protesters, then laughed at herself. “Chica, it’s just as well you are too far away, they would probably be inspired.” They had seen protesters at their games before, although not often. This bunch was the most numerous and best equipped crowd she had ever seen. They arrived in a pair of vans and displayed solid, cleanly lettered signs. The previous record had been seven protestors and half of those poster board signs had been misspelled.

“… just say no to frankendogs…”

“That is getting irritating,” she mumbled. The corner of her upper lip curled, “Why such a large group today? Did they know the congresswoman was here?”

Game watchers pointed at the protestors and she could hear grumbling, although not the specific words. That was all right, people could cope, but she surveyed the field to find her players were still spread around when they should have been in position for the next pull. The chanting might not mean anything to them, but they would be attuned to the growing agitation of their humans.

Rosie appeared at Kim’s side, “Those people do not like us. Why do they not like us Kim? We are good dogs!”

Before she could answer, Sharon’s voice rang out, “Kim! Get them playing again!” The office manager turned to the onlookers and clapped her hands as she continued, “Okay, people, let’s not engage them. We’re here to enjoy our game. Everybody, with me now, ‘Let’s go, neos!’”

“Let’s go, neos! Let’s go, neos!” After a few repetitions, the crowd showed a real enthusiasm. Sharon threw in some cheerleading moves for good measure.

Kim shook her head, “I hope she doesn’t hurt herself.” She blew her whistle and waved the teams to their positions; the watchers cheered, the game resumed. As long as they were playing, the neodogs were untroubled by the protestors. The fans cheered much more than normal, sometimes attempting silly chants of their own. With the protesters kept at a distance by the property line, it was an effective counter and the crowd stayed spirited.

Kim had more trouble. She kept trying to laugh it off, but she could not help being irritably aware of the protestor’s chant, “…just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs.” It was like fingernails on a chalkboard for her. She nearly missed calling a goal.

“Wheet, Wheet, Wheeeet.” Three blasts on Kim’s whistle signaled a 10 minute halftime. Rosie charged up to her for a hug and a back scratch. As the redhead performed her sacred duty as Rosie’s guardian, Sharon joined the pair. Kim inclined her head toward the demonstrators. “So, they’ve backed off of the chanting for a bit.”

“Yeah, but you can be sure they’ll start up again. Right now, they’re talking to those reporters. I’d rather it got no attention, but at least they are a local news team and might give us a fair shake. I’m gonna mosey over and be the next interview. We’ll want to make sure ya’ll talk to them after the game. Good girl.” That last had been directed at Rosie, with an accompanying head pat, before Sharon headed off. Knowing how much Sharon loved neodogs Kim never quite understood why she did not have one of her own. Of course, the supply was limited, but still….

“…just say no to neodogs…”

“That’s the loudest they’ve been yet! They’re playing to those reporters!” said a new voice.

Kim turned to see her friend, and Sirius vet tech, Olivia, offering a bottle of water along with her opinion. “That is totally annoying. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll strain their throats.”

“That’s a pleasant thought,” Kim gratefully gulped down a large mouthful of water. “Hey, is our crowd bigger than when the game started?”

“Oh, for sure. Sharon told everyone in the office who could to get out here. At first, people started to get mad, but then we settled on cheering as much as we can. My throat is totally starting to hurt!”

Kim swallowed another swig of water, “Is that why Joe Brady’s watching? I don’t think I’ve seen him stick around for a game before. Whoa.” In a wave starting from the front hood ornament, the convertible Mercedes Joe was leaning against changed from a burgundy red to a sunlit gold. “That’s a hella nice ride, is that Brady’s? I’ve got a chameleon package, but it takes like five minutes to change the car color, and it doesn’t do that cool wave thing.”

“Dunno. I think it’s that weird dude’s.”

Kim had missed ‘weird dude,’ who had been obscured by his open trunk. He finished whatever he had been doing in the back of the car and joined Joe in leaning against the hood. The guy did cut an odd figure.

He looked soft and pudgy even from fifty meters away and wore a very formal suit. That was unusual enough in the area’s relaxed business climate, but it looked outright stifling in the summer heat. However, what put him over the top and into ‘weird’ was his top of the line stadium headset. Kim had seen them at major sports events, where they were very popular with the early adopter crowd. The things were computerized binoculars, equipped with zoom, recording and playback features.

“He is weird, Olivia. Why stand all the way back there and use those things? He could walk right up to the field and get a better view.”

“Yeah, and he’s had them on the whole time. It’s just kind of … off.”

“Well, I hope the response time on those things is fast, or he’s going to have a killer headache trying to follow one of these games.” Kim’s handheld chirped in her pocket. “Speaking of which, time to start back up.” She lifted her whistle to her lips, “Wheet. Wheet. Wheeet”

During the second half, to Kim’s eternal gratitude, the protestors never seemed to get as much spirit going; or maybe they were just drowned out by the nearer and, thanks to Sharon’s efforts, larger supportive crowd.

Probably it was also hard for them to get pumped up with no real opportunity for feedback from the protestees. They were just too far away from the neodogs and the game watchers, an advantage of the office complex’s layout. Kim was willing to bet that anyone who thought they would confront the protestors had been discouraged by Sharon. In between plays, she had seen the woman sometimes known as ‘The Sheriff’ sheepdog a few stray people back to the game.

“Why such a large group? What was different today?” An interception by a shirt recalled her to the moment, “Stay focused ref,” she told herself. Interceptions and changes of direction were occurring less often as the dogs began to tire out. Sometimes scoring actually picked up when they were tired, but not today. “I swear, they would play this game until they dropped dead of exhaustion!”

Gabby picked that moment to show his superior sense of strategy. Hemmed in just outside the end zone he back-passed to Bella. As the surrounding furs turned to block her, Gabby broke sideways for the far side of the endzone and caught the return pass, making the last score and giving the game to the shirts by one point.

Kim blew her whistle three times – end of game. The onlookers clapped and cheered as lolling tongued neodogs headed for their respective people.

Rosie and Gabby trotted tiredly over to Kim. She gave Rosie a big hug and scratched Gabby’s back, “Good dogs! That was an excellent game.” There was tail wagging and heavy panting, but no talk; they were a pair of tired neodogs. Each gave the human a lick before heading for the communal water bowl.

Kim pulled her handheld from her back pocket and thumbed some notes; game time, final score, a few other stats. It had been closer than usual, but if you wanted to bet on these things, Gabby’s team usually won. Not that the neos seemed to notice.

When she looked up, Sharon was approaching with a news stream crew in tow. “Oh no! She isn’t really going to try to put me on news vid, is she?” She looked around desperately, but could find no cover or escape route.

“Kim, wait up sweetie!” Sharon waved; her voice was entirely too cheerful. Kim deflated; first Congress people, now this.

Resigned, she turned and smiled when they got close.

Sharon did the honors, “Becky, this is Kim.”

“Hello Kim,” the newswoman shook Kim’s hand. “I’m Rebecca Owens, with Active News. This is my cameraman, Dave. Sharon has suggested we talk to you about these games. Can we ask you a few questions?”

“Umm, well, I suppose so.” In a nervous gesture she had picked up from her uncle, the young woman’s fingers drummed unconsciously on the back of her handheld.

Rebecca had a professional vid streamer’s voice; Kim wondered if they taught it in journalism school. The news woman wore a lightweight vid headset, one that did not muss her hair but would provide a good view of an interview subject. Her partner, Dave, wore a multi camera heavy duty unit that made Weird Binocular Guy look normal.

Rebecca held out a long thin microphone, “Now Kim, you are the athletic director for neodogs at Sirius Bio-engineering, isn’t that right?” Dave circled around to get a better angle on his partner.

“Umm, well, yes, I suppose. I don’t really have a formal title, but, I guess you could describe me that way. Part time.”

“And this is your personal animal? What is his name?”

“Uh, her name is Rosie, and you could have asked her.”

After a brief hesitation, Rebecca bent down and held her microphone toward Rosie. “Hello Rosie, I’m Rebecca.”

“Hello, Rebecca. I am pleased to meet you.” Rosie was an especially polite neo; even so, Kim crossed her fingers hoping she would not ask Rebecca to scratch her tail.

“Rosie, do you like playing in these games?”

“Yes. I love to play Frisbee. It is fun.”

“What is the best part?”

Rosie cocked her head to the side for a second. Very positively, she said, “I like to chase and catch the Frisbee.”

“I must admit, it feels very strange to be talking to a dog.”

“I talk to people all the time. I like to talk. You might feel better if you scratched my ears.”

Kim resisted an urge to slap her forehead. Instead, she interjected, “Of course, Rosie is not a typical dog. Really, she belongs to a different species; she is a neodog.”

Owens reached out with her free hand and scratched the neo’s ears. “Rosie, how do you feel about the protestors?”

Rosie tilted her head happily into the scratch, then startled when the question registered, “The people over there?” She pointed with her nose. “They do not like us. I do not understand why. We are all good dogs. We help people.”

Kim saw that with the dispersal of Sirius people at the end of the game, the protesters were also clearing out. Rebecca thanked Rosie, and straightened up and returned to interviewing the human half of the pair. “What about you Kim, what is your reaction to this protest? Is Rosie a ‘frankendog’?”

“I really don’t know what to make of it. We’ve had small clusters of protesters before, but this was the biggest crowd I’ve ever seen.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand them. There is nothing to fear from our neodogs, they love humans instinctively. When a neodog comes into your life, you gain a wonderful companion; they are the ultimate helper dog. The first seeing-eye dog school in the US was opened in 1929, and this is just the latest step in that process.”

“What is the purpose of these games?”

“Well, socialization, play and exercise are important for any dogs. Neos need greater mental challenges and a chance to fine tune the use of their cybernetic arms. Eventually, we settled on Ultimate. We tend to call it ‘Frisbee’ because the dogs prefer that word. They just seem to like to say ‘Frisbee.’”

“You said eventually? How do you mean, ‘eventually.’”

“Well, my Uncle Ted asked me to try and get something organized. I’ve been a soccer player from the cradle, my mother had me kicking a ball when I had to hold her hand to do it. So, first I tried soccer games.”

“How did that work out?”

She shook her head with a wry smile. “Terrible. Neodogs are easy to please, so any excuse for running around will fly, but I couldn’t adapt the game to them. I had them ‘elbowing’ the ball and other silly things.

“Then one day on campus, I stumbled on an Ultimate game, and slapped myself in the head for not thinking of it before. The rest, as they say, is history.”

While they spoke, Rosie wandered off to handle personal business. Off camera, thankfully. When she finished, she came back and sat down primly to stare at her person. Kim knew what Rosie wanted, but thought it was worth asking her for the sake of the cameras, “Yes, Rosie, do you want something?”

“Kim, can I have a baggy?”

“This might be the most important thing to tell your viewers, Rebecca.” Kim reached into her game duffle and produced a small biodegradable bag for Rosie. “Neodogs are very loving and can do some wonderful things, but the best part is that they can clean up after themselves.”

updated June 1, 2009

A Girl and her Neodog - Chapter 2

A Girl and her Neodog

Chapter II

Rosie stood by the conference room door, staring back the way she had come for Kim’s approach. Eager to complete her task, she knew not to interrupt a meeting until she had permission. She held the information packets carefully saddled on her cybernetic harness and wagged her tail as Kim neared, the tempo increasing with every approaching step of her girl.

When Kim had caught up, she first peaked through the door’s glass side panel. ‘Asta’ was Sirius Bio’s main conference room, the well furnished one used for visitors. She saw her Uncle Ted was in the middle of a presentation to a handful of people arrayed around the long faux cherry table.

“That’s good manners, Rosie.” The praise was perfunctory; Kim was trying to figure out the best moment to slip into the meeting. Through the glass, she made herself visible and studied the attendees. “Looks like the only ones we know are Jen and Joe. Besides Ted and Gabby, I mean.”

Ted was a short, boyish looking middle aged man with thinning blond hair and a pair of old fashioned wire rimmed glasses. It became clear she had caught his eye when he animatedly waved them in. Before Kim could open the door, it swung wide revealing a black and white border collie derived neodog who quietly said, “Hi Kim, hi Rosie. Please come in.”

Ted was still speaking; Kim whispered, “Thank you, Gabby,” before settling into a chair along the wall.

Rosie sprang forward and proudly handed Ted her papers. “The last neodog to receive the new firmware is Rosie here. Thank you, Rosie.” The bespectacled Chief Technology Officer scooped up the info packs and passed them around the table.

Kim self-consciously folded her arms in front of her and tried to become smaller. In a company where formal attire often translated into, ‘please wear shoes,’ she was suddenly very conscious of her workout clothes. Everyone else in the room was dressed several notches above business casual, including her almost invariably underdressed uncle.

Ted promptly did the exact opposite of what she wanted, introducing her with a wave, “Congresswoman, everyone, this is Kim.” She flinched as all attention turned toward her, but quickly summoned a shy smile and managed a wave. “Kim runs the neodog exercise and recreation program and is Rosie’s guardian.”

The presentation screen switched to an animated montage of neodog’s playing on a grassy field with Kim herself running alongside in many of the scenes that faded in and out. “Formal recreation is a necessary component of our program.”

Under her breath she mumbled, “He could have told me. I don’t always wear this.”

Ted continued smoothly, as if he had rehearsed for Kim’s entrance. “Many of the elderly clients the neodogs will service will not be equipped to take them on long walks. Organized exercise programs will be necessary for the neos’ health and socialization.”

He sounded like one of her college professors. Kim’s shy smile expanded into a genuine grin; despite his wardrobe upgrade, Uncle Ted gave the impression he was wearing a lab coat.

From the far end of the table, a very stylish woman added, “Kim is tasked with developing the training for the recreation program. It’s not just about the neos’ well being, but also that of the people they will service.” This was Sirius Bio’s Chief Executive Officer, Jennifer Cutts. As she spoke, the screen switched to a row of seniors in camp chairs laughing and watching neodogs. “The games also provide a social outlet for our seniors. We have encouraging psychological results from the pilot program, comparing regular game watchers with a non-attending group.”

The screen switched to a vid loop of Kim refereeing. Ted looked over at her, with a faint smirk, like he was waiting for her to say something. With no idea what else to add, she just smiled again and made another little wave.

A conservative looking older woman, to whom the others seemed to defer, gave her a warm smile, “I’ve seen vid streams of your games before. They look like a lot of fun. In fact Kim, I knew very well who you were before we got here. My grandson is a huge fan of neodogs and follows your game blog religiously. He will be very jealous that I’ve met you.”

“They are…” it came out as a squeak. Kim blinked several times and cleared her throat. “They - the games - are a lot of fun. The blog is pretty easy to maintain, people contribute stills and vid and I just provide a little organizing and moderation.”

Jen Cutts added, “Congresswoman, Kim’s blog is a major part of our PR. She’ll be embarrassed, but we’ll make her autograph a t-shirt for your grandson.” Raising an eyebrow toward her, Jen asked, “Kim, isn’t today a game day?”

“Ummm, yes. Rosie and I are about to head out to the field. Gabby too, if he wants.”

The two neodogs had been busy sniffing each other and doing doggy things throughout the conversation, but Gabby did not miss a beat. His head shot up and his ears semaphored at his person, “Ted, can I go play with Rosie and Kim?” His voice box was set to a slightly deeper pitch than Rosie’s.

“Of course, Gabby; just as soon as we are through here. First I have to ask Rosie some questions. Rosie, how is your fine motor control?” As he spoke, he took an expensive pen out of his pocket, pulled the cap off and dropped both pieces on the floor. Rosie sprang forward to pick up the cap in one pincer, the pen in the other. She capped the pen and handed it to Ted with a spinning flourish around her three fingers.

“Excellent, Rosie. How do your arms feel?”

“They feel well, Uncle Ted.” She rotated her pincers and interlaced the ‘fingers’ of her ‘hands.’ “My hands work well. It is easy to talk. I am happy.” A tail wag punctuated her words.

A tall thin man seated beside Jen, the remaining attendee Kim already knew, spoke up: “Kim, I think you will notice an expanded vocabulary as well. We’ve improved the mapping of their brain signals. She should be able to repeat new words more easily and accurately.”

Kim nodded just a little stiffly, “I’ll watch for that Joe, thanks.” Joe Brady was with their partner company, Caiden Cybernetics. As the Product Manager for the neodog arms, he spent a lot of time supporting Sirius Bio, but he always rubbed her the wrong way. Something she could never quite pin down. “Like he’s playing a role and he’s not really there,” was the best explanation she could ever manage.

“Well, Rosie,” said Ted, “I think you and Gabby can go play now.”

Gabby piped up, “Ted? I did not tell the people my joke.”

Ted ran his eyes over the attendees before saying, “Well Gabby, I suppose you could tell it now.” He stepped back and gave the room a bemused look, holding his hands up as if asking for patience.

“Oh Ted, must we?” Jen hammed it up. Kim thought the visitors looked pretty amused at the idea of a dog who told jokes. She was hopeful that would make them forgiving; she had heard some of Gabby’s jokes.

“A person and a dog go into a store,” began Gabby eagerly, tail wagging. “The store owner comes up to them and says ‘no dogs allowed in this store.’ The person says, ‘but this dog can talk. I’ll bet you a steak that this dog can talk.’ The store owner says ‘dogs can’t talk. I’ll take your bet.’ The person says, ‘dog, what’s on top of a house?’ The dog says, ‘roof’.

The person says ‘what’s sandpaper feel like?’ The dog says, ‘ruff.’ So the store owner gave them a steak.”

To Kim’s relief, the visitors responded with smiles and even a couple of polite chuckles. The two neodogs panted and wagged their tails and wiggled against each other, so they at least thought it was a good joke.

“Well, Dr. Hardy, Ms. Cutts, everyone,” the congresswoman stood up. “This has been very informative. We’ll have some of our very smart people review this latest data and explain it to me, but so far everything looks good. This is an impressive program that clearly has the potential to make a great contribution to elder care and to California’s economy.”

Everyone took their cue from this and stood up, stowing their handhelds and adding their own ‘thank you, very informative’ comments.

Kim raised her eyebrows at being included in the round of handshaking, but recovered, accepting any proffered hands with a smile and answering, ‘oh no, the pleasure is mine’ as their guests filed out of the room. The two neodogs scored a good number of ear scratches as well, their primary criteria for judging humans.

Sharon appeared in the doorway with a company t-shirt and a marker, an example of Jen’s efficient texting. Kim signed her name with an unbelieving shake of her head. She started to cap the marker, but with a shrug handed it to Rosie. “Rosie, can you make your mark on this?” To everyone’s delight, Rosie managed a pretty good ‘R.’

As Jen Cutts showed the visitors to the main entrance, Gabby and Rosie ran ahead to open the double doors, looking very professional as a pair of sentries.

Joe Brady glanced at his handheld, and tapped the bud in his left ear. “Brady here. Yes, the meeting just wrapped up….” He turned away as his end of the call became mumbled. Ted turned to Kim with a relieved grin, “That was perfect timing. It gave us a nice wrap-up.”

“Yes, Kim, thank you. It was good timing,” added Jen. She was Ted’s age; they had been friends for years before going into business together. Always very put together, she had an MBA and an Ivy League law degree, and looked every bit the legal eagle in the same way Ted looked every bit the scientist. “I’ve got to go catch up on some email. Have a good game, pups.” She headed for her office.

“Who were the others?” Kim inclined her head at the front door.

“Umm, a couple of the congresswoman’s staffers, and some California and Federal Health and Safety regulators. Our ‘potentially dangerous’ bio- engineered organisms need to be properly licensed. This is the last big step before final approval.” Ted absent mindedly scratched Gabby’s ears as the neo stood by his side.

“Well, it ended on a good vibe. Do you think there will be any problems?”

He shook his head absently. Kim knew that distracted look usually meant he was mentally multitasking. “No, not really,” his eyes unglazed as he focused on the current conversation, “We have years of data now, going back to the original DARPA project. Still, this part isn’t simply doing engineering, this is politics and sales. The regulatory bureaucracy is dominated by good scientists, but if the wrong political people get upset and stick their noses into things, it could drag the process out quite a bit.”

“But Uncle Ted, everyone who meets neodogs falls in love with them.”

He chuckled indulgently, “You know, it’s not that simple. Remember that spate of protesters that used to show up for your games?”

“Well, yeah, but that was always kind of pathetic, four or five people, tops,” she shrugged dismissively. “The friendly onlookers always outnumbered them. Most people love our neodogs!”

“Yes, most open minded people love them. However, there are plenty of people who are frightened of anything new, and frightened people can be loud. Cartoons are one thing; real live talking dogs are still very, very new to most people. The congresswoman’s office has been getting public comments about ‘frankendogs.’”

“I just don’t understand people like that,” she shook her head.

“I know,” he gave her a paternal smile, “and I can’t tell you how proud I am that you don’t.” Ted gave her a kiss on the forehead, although she had to duck just a little to let him do it. Perplexed, he narrowed his eyes and looked straight into hers, “When did you get so tall?”

“Last week.” She smiled at her uncle, but felt her cheeks start to warm, prompting her to look away. Needing a distraction and seeing Rosie and Gabby, Kim was reminded of Ted’s other personal neodog, Pandora. “Uncle Ted, where is Dora? I seem to keep missing her.”

“Ummm, she’s back at the house. She’s become a bit fixated on protecting her territory, making sure the raccoons aren’t sneaking into the trash and what not.”

“Well, I’m sure she gets plenty of exercise with all those woods, but we haven’t had her at a game for awhile now. We miss her.”

He pulled on his own earlobe. “Yes. Well you are right, she gets plenty of exercise, but maybe I’m letting her get away with being too much of a doggy introvert. I’ll have to put more effort into making her come along sometimes.”

The whining of dogs in pain interrupted their conversation. Kim’s head spun sharply toward Rosie and Gabby; what she saw made her gasp loudly in alarm. Both animals were ducking their heads as though they were hiding from a beating. The neos wobbled drunkenly as she knelt down to hug Rosie.

Ted had Gabby’s head in his hands, “What’s wrong boy? Talk to me.” The dog looked glassy eyed and swayed as though he would simply collapse at any moment. Rosie did not look any better.

“Uncle, what’s wrong with them!”

Ted did not answer; he was trying to lift Gabby’s head and look in his eyes. He steadied the neo’s head with one hand, and used the thumb and index finger of his other to hold one eye wide.

As abruptly as it had begun, the fit ended and both neos simultaneously straightened up and ceased whining. They shook their heads as their movements regained their usual composure. Looking up at their people and each other, they blinked in confusion.

Ted put a hand on each dog’s head and pointedly asked, “What happened?” They appeared shaken, but were no longer in obvious pain.

High forehead wrinkled in concentration, Gabby said, “There was a bad noise….” He paused, and tilted his head to one side, “…but it was not a noise. It was also a bad smell. It made my head hurt.” He looked Ted in the eye, “A lot.”

“A bad noise and my head still hurts. It was scary,” added Rosie plaintively.

“Can you tell where the noise came from?”

Rosie looked down, considering the question carefully. Finally, she answered, “No.”

“It was everywhere at the same time,” added a perplexed Gabby.

“That was damned peculiar.” Ted pulled a pen light out of his pocket and looked at each neo’s eyes in turn.

Kim’s face was white; she was more upset than the dogs. In a frightened high pitch she asked, “Could there be something wrong with the new arm firmware?”

She jumped when a male voice answered from behind her. “Gabby and most of the dogs have had the upgrade for a week.” She had forgotten Joe Brady was there. “I don’t see how our firmware could have caused that.” To her, he sounded a little defensive.

“Joe’s right. It’s only because you were out of town that Rosie just got this update and we haven’t seen anything like this with any of them.” Ted’s calm tone would have been infuriating, but Kim knew him; he was a scientist first and foremost. He only sounded that calm when he was both worried and concentrating. “The fact that it hit them both at the same time implies something external. Perhaps it was a noise outside of human range? Maybe a low flying jet?”

Ted pulled his handheld from a pocket. Thumbing over it with one hand, he pushed a phone bud into his ear with the other. After a pause he said, “Bill, are you in the vet lab? Good, how many neos are in there, and have you seen any odd behavior in the last couple of minutes?” Kim knew ‘Bill’ would be Bill Arnold, Sirius Bio’s veterinarian. “Nothing? I’ll come over and explain later, thanks.”

Ted tucked the phone bud in his shirt pocket and drummed his fingers for a moment on the back of the small computer. Then he slid a small data stick from the device, saying, “Gabby, sit down please.”

The neo cooperated promptly, and Ted knelt on one knee beside him.

With one hand, he popped open a small panel on the back of the neodog’s harness and slid the data stick into a now exposed slot. Ted tapped tiny buttons beside the data port. A light on the end of the stick flashed briefly.

“Rosie, please.” Ted extracted the data stick and sealed Gabby’s panel while Rosie turned her back to him and sat down. He repeated the operation on her harness.

Despite the three human’s intense stares, the canines gave no sign of any further problems. Ted stood up and adopted a comforting tone, “Well Kim, why don’t you get them some water and take them to the game? I’ll go over these log files,” he slid the data stick into the receptacle of his hand held, “but I don’t think it will happen again. Do bring Gabby back here afterwards; I’ll be working late.”

Despite the reassuring tone, his brow was furrowed and he was rubbing his jaw the way she knew he always did when troubled.

“Okay, Uncle.” Kim’s brow was furrowed as well, but the dogs had perked up and gamboled happily; the problem had passed and Ted would figure it out. She headed for the door with a call of “C’mon dogs, let’s go. Frisbee day.”

With gleeful shouts of ‘Frisbee, Frisbee,’ Rosie and Gabby rushed ahead and let themselves out the door.

updated June 1, 2009

A Girl and her Neodog - Chapter 1

A Girl and her Neodog
Chapter I

The neodog’s sudden barking startled her girl; the redheaded young woman jumped in her seat with a high pitched yelp.

Rolling her eyes, she put a hand to her heart and exhaled an exasperated breath. Then, with an angry ‘tsk’ that could not be heard over the background noise, she swept a finger tip over the nonsense characters on her touch screen before re-typing the correct command.

Eyes narrowed, she glanced up at the rattling walls before spinning her chair around. The office-lab was not large and had terrible acoustics; the echoing barks reverberated so that the thumb tacks holding up schematic posters and genetic maps threatened to shake loose from the walls. Eyes flashing, the young woman covered her ears with her hands and pinched her face tight as she gave the neodog a stern look.

However, at the sight of her neo’s wagging tail and silly antics, the stern face gave a twitch and dissolved into an indulgent grin. Dropping her hands and leaning well forward, she begged the animal, loudly, through her own laughter, “Rosie, I’m hurrying, I swear! Please, don’t bark so much!”

Rosie, the black, curly-haired neodog responsible for the wall rattling noise, darted around the room, dancing, spinning and continuing to bark encouragement to her favorite person. The young lady graced with this display grinned a lopsided grin and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Settle down, baby dog! Honestly, people will think it’s an earthquake!” Giggling, she reached behind her back and grabbed the edge of her desktop. With a pull, she spun back to her work.

Rosie knew what a real scolding was, and that had not even come close. She waggled her whole body in time with her sweeping tail, then dropped down on her front legs in a dog’s invitation to play. Looking up, tongue hanging out, she clowned by scooting from side to side in her playbow, head low and tail end high. She did not completely ignore the human’s ‘settle down’ request; she did stop barking at the top of her lungs, but there was no letup in her manic back-and-forth.

With both hands, the woman pushed her thick auburn hair back and hooked it behind her ears. Despite that, when she leaned over her outsized full-desktop computer screen, much of it came loose and fell across her face. Squinting, she scanned the half dozen charts and progress bars popping up on the display.

She chewed her lip and nodded to herself, simultaneously using the fingertips of each hand to drag and reposition chart windows around the screen. With a satisfied pursing of her lips, she straightened up, gave a firmer nod, and spared a look over her shoulder at her four-footed companion.

At a casual glance, Rosie was a medium sized dog, about twenty-five kilograms with a robust build and a black, wavy coat. She closely resembled her source breed, the Portuguese Water Dog, although with an oddity that would have raised eyebrows at an American Kennel Club dog show. A breeder’s eye would have been irresistibly drawn to Rosie’s cranium, which was both higher and more elongated than any normal member of the species Canis lupus familiaris.

When Rosie knew she had caught her girl’s eye, her own eyes went wide and she paused in her bouncing to stare back. Her head tilted so far over to one side she looked ready to roll over entirely, while her powerful tail wagged in such wide sweeps that the tip brushed her own ribs.

Her girl, the person the neodog loved best in the world, was not so much a girl but rather a twenty year old woman, a little taller than average and athletically built, dressed in soccer shorts and a black polo shirt with a blue and white star logo. Humans often remarked on her unusual copper red hair, but Rosie’s vision was not up to appreciating rare shades of human hair color. Rosie emphasized other senses.

The neodog’s nostrils flared and her eyes half closed. For Rosie, it was the woman’s scent that was rare and special; a subtle mix of pheromones that spoke of redwood forests, ocean spray and grassy fields on hot days. It was the scent that told her she was home, no matter where the pair roamed. Lifting her nose and waving it in tiny circles, she inhaled the aroma of love and happiness, escalating her tail wag into a whole body wiggle until she had to celebrate by spinning around in circles.

After a couple full rotations, Rosie slowed down, her high brow furrowed as she again tilted her head to the side. In a very un-canine display of body language, she closed her eyes, lifted her nose with an open mouth and took in a deep, long breath in a kind of inverted pant. Mouth wide, tongue hanging out, she slowly pushed the air out of her lungs as she lowered her head and chest until her chin was on the floor in a yoga ‘downward dog’ posture. Another long slow breath, and she slowly settled her tail end until she was flat on the floor in ‘child’s pose.’ Her wagging tail had nearly stilled during her deep cleansing breaths, but its rapid tempo resumed as she lifted her head and blinked. Outside of her tail, she managed to hold herself more or less still, save for an excited quivering.

The corners of the woman’s mouth curled up and her eyes twinkled before she faced forward and narrowed her gaze at her displays and their progress bars. If she enjoyed the relative peace and quiet, the pleasure was short lived. Rosie had tamped down her fidgeting to little more than the sweep of her tail, but it was only moments until the silence proved too much for her. While the redheaded woman ran her eyes across her screen, her neodog began to vocalize from deep in her throat in a kind of doggy mumble, “Ruhr, rhurr row row roh.”

“I know, I know. Just a couple minutes more.” She did not look at the dog; it was the exasperated tone of a mother grateful for whatever patience she could get from a toddler. Fingers drumming the edge of her screen, in an undertone she added, “At least now I can hear myself think.”

Narrowing her brown eyes until her eyebrows nearly touched, she stared at her computer screen, periodically lightly tapping it and sliding a finger tip across the display to drag or resize a window. It was a professional full-desktop monitor; the screen area was a good hundred by a hundred and fifty centimeters and it could be tilted at any angle from flat to vertical, like a drafting table. An indulgent uncle kept her in good equipment.

A thin, orange fiber optic cable ran from a data port on the side of the desktop to a device on the nearest corner of a cluttered lab bench. It was a vaguely oval ring standing on its own pair of legs, each leg with a three toed base. The object had a flat, dark-green finish that resembled a rubberized or waterproof material.

When she leaned a little further forward, the rest of the woman’s long hair escaped her ears and fell in front of her face. Her eyes, narrowed and unblinking, stayed fixed on her screen while she fumbled in the pocket of her shorts and produced a hair scrunchie. With her free hand she tapped the screen and dragged another window to one side.

“One more down.” She said it out of the corner of her mouth while she fixed her hair back in a pony tail.

“Rahr roo aroo,” Rosie’s commentary went up an octave in response, before settling into a steady, throaty mumble. Her tail maintained a steady, rhythmic wag and she began to knead the floor with her forepaws. She gave her head a little sideways shake and looked for all the world like she desperately wanted to leap up and shout, “Oh please hurry up!”

At long last, the final progress bar in the final window turned green. With crinkles at the corners of her eyes and a small, maternal smile, the human turned in her chair to face the canine. Her smile became a wide grin and she stood up and announced, “All right Rosie, it’s finished now.”

The animal’s response was a positive fit of excited barking and leaping about. The woman laughed as her neodog leapt up at her and threatened to bowl her over. She had to squeeze right up to the lab bench to edge out the neo and disconnect the data cable from the two legged ring. She gripped the device with both hands, but could not simply rotate around without smacking the legs into Rosie’s face, so she hauled the thing into the air and over her own head when she turned.

“Okay, okay! Back up for a second, you crazy dog!”

With an excited tremble, Rosie stepped back and allowed the object of her enthusiasm to be placed on the floor in front of her. As soon as it touched ground, while it was still rocking on its pair of legs, the canine lunged and slid her head inside the ring.

As her shoulders contacted the device, or perhaps just milliseconds before, it responded as if it were a living thing. The ring portion wrapped and contoured itself around her chest and shoulders. Extruding bands that locked themselves together, the ring turned itself into a harness. The ‘legs’, anchored at the ring’s top, and no longer needed for support, curled and lifted into the air, up and over the neodog’s head. They became a flexible pair of mechanical tentacles, sprouting from the canine’s harness at the shoulders, and they undulated randomly in the air for a moment. The waving tentacles resembled drunken sea serpents as much as anything else, until something seemed to settle and their movements became crisp, precise and coordinated. The three ‘toes’ at the end of each tentacle flexed to form articulated pincers, both sets of which clicked repeatedly.

The tentacles folded sharply along Rosie’s upper back and a flood of words issued from a speaker built into the chest portion of the mechanical harness: “I have my arms back! I love my arms! I love to talk! I love you Kim! Can we go play now?”

Kim knelt beside her neodog, her grin now stretching from ear to ear. She reached out and ran both hands over Rosie’s head and settled reflexively into an ear scratch. Her brown eyes sparkled; no mother ever took more pride in a clever child.

“We need to go see Uncle Ted first, then we can go play. Today is Frisbee day.”

At this news, Rosie’s head shot up and her tail wag broke the sound barrier. Unable to contain her excitement, she chased her tail for two or three spins before turning to the room’s exit. Barking from her mouth and shouting, “Frisbee! Frisbee!” from her chest speaker, she ran to the lab door, reached up with one mechanical tentacle, grasped and rotated the doorknob with the pincer, and pulled the door wide. Rosie the neodog bounded into the expanse of office cubicles in front of her, barking her joy. Her girl, Kim, followed at a leisurely pace.

Neo or not, like any dog, Rosie understood deeply and instinctively that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing at a run. She dashed ahead of Kim, charging through the forest of cubicles, advertising her progress with happy barks.

She rounded a corner into a comparatively open area. Without slowing down, she passed a woman sitting at a long desk and thundered through an open office door, ignoring the sign that read “Edward Hardy, CTO.”

She glanced around to be thorough, but her nose had already told her no one was in Uncle Ted’s office. Her head tilted to the side for a moment as she considered her options. She began to drop her nose to the carpet, but reconsidered and instead trotted to the long desk in the outer office.

With her chest speaker, Rosie addressed the blonde woman seated behind the desk, “Hi, Sharon. Do you know where Uncle Ted is? We have to go see him.” Her tentacles uncurled from their resting position on the neodog’s back and waved in the air, “See my arms? Kim just fixed them!”

Sharon Reeves had the slightly glazed look of someone not in the here and now. She tapped the phone bud in her ear with a finger, and focused on Rosie long enough to say, in a southern drawl, “Just a minute, sweetie, I’m on the phone.” She tapped the ear bud again, then made a broad circle with her arm, inviting Rosie to join her behind the desk.

When Kim strode around the corner, she found Rosie enjoying a firm tail scratch from Sharon as the woman was wrapping up a phone conversation. With an approving smile, she crossed her arms and leaned against a nearby file cabinet.

“… just remember, ya’ll don’t get to spend the whole time here drinking beer on Ted’s deck. You have to take me out to dinner too; I want to hear all about Mars!” Sharon paused, added a flirty “I’ll hold you to that,” and pulled the tiny phone bud from her ear and tossed it into a little ceramic dish on her desk. She favored Kim with a grin and a “Hey, sweetie,” while rotating in her chair to grant Rosie the highly desirable treat of a two-handed tail scratch.

Kim replied with a pitch perfect North Carolina, “Heyy.” She harbored the none too secret opinion that Sharon had been in Northern California long enough that she must practice in the shower every morning to keep up her accent. So far, solid evidence eluded the redhead. She moved to sit on a clear spot on the office manager’s long desk. Cocking her head to one side in a very canine posture, Kim asked conspiratorially, “And just who was that?”

Sharon fluttered her eyes in a look of utmost innocence, “That, my dear, was a terribly handsome old friend of your uncle’s. A dashing soldier only recently returned from Mars; one Kermit McCullough.”

The redhead snorted, “Kermit? Really?”

Scandalized, Sharon stuck out her chin and turned to shuffle some paperwork, “It’s a fine Irish name. Don’t be such a pill. He is a very nice man.”

“Well, he’d have to be.”

Sharon turned back and made a sour face, but Kim ignored it, “On the other hand, I would love to go to Mars. Can I meet this guy?”

Rosie interrupted, brown eyes wide, “Kim, we have to go see Uncle Ted! So we can go play Frisbee!”

“You’re right, Rosie, but I didn’t mean we were going to Mars right now.” Kim bent down to give Rosie a reassuring pat on the head. Looking sideways at Sharon, she asked, “Is Uncle Ted still in that meeting? He wanted to see us right after Rosie’s upgrade.”

“He is sweetie. He doesn’t want you to wait, said you should join them. I think he wants to show off Rosie and Gabby interacting. They’re in the ‘Asta’ conference room.” Off of Kim’s skittish look, she added, “Oh, just go right on in!”

“Isn’t this kind of an important meeting?” Kim’s spine had stiffened.

“Yes, but don’t worry about it, really. After all, they’ll be interested in Rosie, not you.”

That remark earned a dirty look. Kim could do wonders with a raised eyebrow, but the other woman was not easily intimidated; she just stuck her tongue out in reply.

Spinning and scooting her chair toward the printer/binder behind her, Sharon said, “Rosie, I have some papers you can bring to Ted.” She turned back with a stack of packets, covers emblazoned with a blue and white star logo and the words “Sirius Bio-Engineering” in a rakish font. She handed them to the eager neodog who accepted them with reverence, carefully positioning them on her back, atop her harness. Rosie wiggled to convince herself she had a good grip on her delivery, then turned and dashed for the conference room, calling, “Come on Kim!”

updated June 1, 2009

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Domain up and running!

Finally, this blog can be found under www.AGirlandherNeodog.com and not just at the blogspot address. I think there were a couple problems, but somewhere along the line, I thought I read to leave out the 'www' when setting up the domain redirect. Apparently, at that point, I was blowing it every time I configured the thing.

Interesting blog on blogging: www.bloggerbuster.com

the fix was at: http://www.bloggerbuster.com/2009/04/another-blog-is-already-hosted-at-this.html

Now if I can find a way to automatically provide one chapter a day of the book, I'll be rocking.

Chapter Samples

I notice that I'm not so much into posting yet. I think my natural tendency to play things close to the chest is combining with the fact that nobody is going to be looking at this yet.

Activities: (ooh, my nasty tendency to think in bullet points!)
- I did anothe draft, which only took 2 days. I beleive that means I've about maxed out my ability to self edit. I think I can dig some real editing out of a few people.

- I just setup a test of using google sites to display chapters. I would like to have a permanent link for the first chapter on this blog, and provide a daily rotation through the rest of the book. It's quick and dirt so far, but I'm learning.

- I'm argueing with myself over a lot of PoD/ebook options. I think I've found something I like, but I have to double check all the older stuff

Out for review

I've sent the draft out for review to a number of people in my personal circle and done a lot of research on what to do with this blog. The natural thing to do would be to write it up here, but I'm still developing habits as much as anything else. So, short entry, mea culpa.

update: and I see I need to find the setting for automatic spell check.

A Girl and her Neodog - Chapter 1, review version 1

Chapter I

The office-lab was not large and it had terrible acoustics; the walls reverberated with the neodog’s excited barking. The room’s human occupant spun on her chair and exaggeratedly put both hands to her ears. Trying to make a stern face and failing miserably, she begged the canine through her own laughter, “Rosie, I’m hurrying, I swear! Please, don’t bark so loudly!”
Rosie, the black, curly haired neodog responsible for the wall rattling noise, pranced around the room, spinning, play-bowing and barking encouragement to her favorite person. The redheaded young woman graced with this display grinned and rolled her eyes, “Settle down, baby dog. Honestly, people will think it’s another earthquake!” She turned back to her work station.
Rosie knew when she was getting a real scolding, and that had not even been close. She bowed down on her front legs in a dog’s invitation to play, and clowned around by scooting from side to side that way, head low and tail end high. She compromised on the ‘settle down’ request by ceasing to bark at the top of her lungs, but the prancing and the play bowing continued, perhaps a little less exuberantly than a moment before.
The woman pushed her thick auburn hair behind her ears as she leaned over her outsized full-desktop computer screen, squinting carefully at the half dozen charts and progress bars on display. She nodded slightly as she used her fingertips to drag and reposition a few of the chart windows around the screen. After a satisfied pursing of her lips, she spared a look over her shoulder at her four-footed companion.
At a casual glance, Rosie was a medium sized dog, about twenty-five kilograms with a black wavy coat. She closely resembled her source breed, the Portuguese Water Dog, although with an oddity that would certainly raise eyebrows at an American Kennel Club dog show. Rosie’s cranium was noticeably higher and much more elongated than any normal member of the species Canis lupus familiaris.
When Rosie realized her person was looking at her, she paused in her antics to look back adoringly, tilting her head sharply to one side and wagging her tail. The person she loved best in the world was about twenty years old, a little taller than average and athletically built, dressed in soccer shorts and a company polo shirt. Human’s often remarked on her person’s unusual copper red hair, but Rosie’s color vision was not up to appreciating that. For Rosie, the young woman’s scent was what was rare and special. The neodog’s tail wag rapidly escalated into a whole body wag until she gave up adoring to spin around happily.
After a couple of full turns, Rosie slowed down, her high brow furrowed and her head tilted to the side. In a very un-canine display of body language, she closed her eyes and took in a deep, long breath in a kind of inverted pant. Mouth open, tongue hanging out, she slowly pushed the air out of her lungs, blinked repeatedly and settled slowly on her haunches. Her wagging tail had nearly stilled during her deep cleansing breath, but now it resumed its rapid tempo. Otherwise, she sat more or less still except for an excited quivering.
One corner of the young woman’s mouth turned up as she turned her head to refocus on her displays and their progress bars. If she enjoyed the relative peace and quiet, her pleasure was short lived. Rosie managed to confine her fidgeting to little more than a wagging tail, but it was only moments before silence proved too much for her. She began to vocalize from deep in her throat, in a kind of doggy mumble, “Ruhr, rhurr row row roh.”
“I know, I know. Just a couple minutes more.” It was the exasperated tone of a mother grateful for whatever patience she could get from a toddler. Under her breath, the young woman mumbled, “At least I can hear myself think.”
With a slight squint, she stared at her computer screen, again tapping and sliding her finger tips across the display, dragging and resizing windows. A professional full-desktop monitor, the screen was a good hundred by a hundred and fifty centimeters and could be tilted at any angle from flat to vertical, like a drafting table. An indulgent uncle kept her in good equipment.
A cable ran from a jack on one side of the desktop to a device on a nearby lab bench. A vaguely oval ring supported by a pair of three-toed legs, the device had the flat looking finish of rubberized or weather proofed plastic in a dark green.
The woman’s long hair fell in front of her face. With one hand, she fumbled in the pocket of her shorts and produced a hair scrunchie, while with her other hand she tapped and dragged another window to one side. “One more down,” she said encouragingly as she fixed her hair back in a pony tail.
“Rahr roo aroo,” Rosie’s commentary went up in pitch, before settling into a steady, throaty mumble. Her powerful tail continued its steady wagging as she pranced with her forepaws, for all the world looking like she desperately wanted to leap up and shout, “Oh please hurry up!” Of course, she couldn’t do that; that was precisely her problem.
At long last, the final progress bar in the final window on the screen turned green. The human turned to the canine, stood up and said, “Alright Rosie, it’s finished now.”
This set off a positive fit of excited barking and leaping about from Rosie. The other half of the pair could only laugh as the neodog’s antics threatened to bowl them both over. Struggling to keep balance, the young woman managed to reach over Rosie’s head and disconnect the cable from the two legged ring. Precariously, she succeeded in lifting the device in both hands off its lab bench perch and hauling it over her own head. “Okay, okay! Back up for a second, you crazy dog!”
Quivering excitedly, Rosie stepped back and allowed the object of all her enthusiasm to be placed on the floor in front of her. As soon as it touched ground, the canine lunged to slide her head inside the ring. As her shoulders contacted the device, or perhaps just a moment before, it responded to the neodog’s presence as if it were a living thing. The ring portion wrapped and contoured itself around the animal’s chest and shoulders, while the ‘legs’, which anchored at the top of the ring and were no longer needed for support, curled up and over her head, becoming a pair of mechanical tentacles sprouting from her shoulders. The tentacles waved back and forth in the air for a moment, resembling drunken sea serpents, until something seemed to settle and their movements became crisp and precise exuding a sense of purpose. The three ‘toes’ at the end of each tentacle became articulated pincers, both sets of which clicked repeatedly.
A flood of words issued from a speaker on the chest portion of the ring-turned-harness, “I have my arms back! I love my arms! I love to talk! I love you Kim! Can we go play now?”
Kim knelt happily beside her neodog, reaching out and scratching both of Rosie’s ears; no mother ever took more pride in a clever child. “We need to go see Uncle Ted first, then we can go play. Today is Frisbee day.”
At this news, Rosie spun about with excitement. Barking from her mouth while shouting, “Frisbee! Frisbee!” from her chest speaker, she ran to the lab entrance, reached up with her right tentacle, grasped and rotated the doorknob with the pincer, and swung the door wide. Rosie the neodog bounded joyfully into the expanse of office cubes in front of her, barking happily.

Neo or not, like any dog, Rosie understood deeply and instinctively that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing at a run. She dashed ahead of Kim, charging through the forest of cubicles, advertising her progress with happy barks.
She rounded a corner into a comparatively open area. Without slowing down, she passed a woman sitting at a long desk and thundered through an open office door, ignoring the sign that read “Edward Hardy, CTO.”
She glanced around to be thorough, but her nose had already told her no one was in Uncle Ted’s office. Her head tilted quizzically to the side for a moment. She started to drop her nose to the carpet, but reconsidered and instead trotted to the long desk in the outer office.
With her chest speaker, Rosie addressed the blonde woman behind the desk, “Hi, Sharon. Do you know where Uncle Ted is? We have to go see him.” Her tentacles uncurled from their resting position on the neodog’s back and waved in the air, “See my arms? Kim just fixed them!”
Sharon had the slightly glazed look of someone not in the here and now. She tapped the phone bud in her ear with one hand, and focused on Rosie long enough to say, in a southern drawl, “Just a minute, sweetie, I’m on the phone.” She tapped the ear bud again, then made a broad circle with her arm, inviting Rosie to join her behind the desk.
When Kim strode around the corner, she found Rosie enjoying a gentle tail scratch from Sharon as the older woman was wrapping up a phone conversation. With an approving smile, she moved to lean against a nearby file cabinet and wait.
“… just remember, ya’ll don’t get to spend the whole time here drinking beer on Ted’s deck. You have to take me out to dinner too; I want to hear all about Mars!” Sharon paused, added a flirty “I’ll hold you to that,” and pulled the tiny phone bud from her ear.
She favored Kim with a “Hey, sweetie,” while granting Rosie the highly desirable treat of a two-handed tail scratch.
Kim replied with a pitch perfect North Carolina, “Heyy.” She harbored the none too secret opinion that Sharon had been in Northern California long enough that she must practice her accent in the shower every morning to maintain it. So far, solid evidence still eluded the younger woman.
She moved to sit on a clear spot on the office manager’s long desk. Cocking her head to one side in a very canine posture, Kim asked conspiratorially, “And just who was that?”
Sharon fluttered her eyes in a look of utmost innocence, “That, my dear, was a terribly handsome old friend of your uncle’s. A dashing soldier only recently returned from Mars; one Kermit McCullough.”
The redhead snorted, “Kermit? Really?”
Scandalized, Sharon replied huffily, “It’s a fine Irish name. Don’t be such a pill, he is a very nice man.”
“Well, he’d have to be.” Sharon made a sour face, but Kim ignored it, “On the other hand, I would love to go to Mars. Can I meet this guy?”
Rosie interrupted, brown eyes wide, “Kim, we have to go see Uncle Ted, so we can go play Frisbee!”
“You’re right Rosie, but I didn’t mean we were going to Mars right now.” Kim bent down to give Rosie a reassuring pat on the head. Looking sideways at Sharon, she asked, “Is Uncle Ted still in that meeting? He wanted to see us right after Rosie’s upgrade.”
“He is sweetie. He doesn’t want you to wait, said you should join them. I think he wants to show off Rosie and Gabby interacting. They’re in the ‘Asta’ conference room.” Off of Kim’s skittish look, she added, “Oh, just go right on in!”
“Isn’t this kind of an important meeting?” Kim’s spine had stiffened.
“Yes, but don’t worry about it, really. After all, they’ll be interested in Rosie, not you.” That remark earned a dirty look. Kim could do wonders with a raised eyebrow, but the older woman was not easily intimidated; she just stuck her tongue out in reply.
Spinning and scooting her chair toward the printer/binder behind her, Sharon said, “Rosie, I have some papers you can bring to Ted.” She turned back with a stack of packets, cover sheets emblazoned with a blue and white star logo and the words “Sirius Bio-Engineering” in a rakish font. She handed them to the eager neodog who accepted them reverently. Turning and dashing for the conference room, Rosie called, “Come on Kim!”

Initial Post

So I'm experimenting with this. I can see already that I will want to write posts in a word processor first, and then paste them in this window I'm working with.

This blog has the title of my science fiction potboiler, and I will be blogging about the process of trying to get it published, etc. The first fit-for-others draft is in the hands of a number of people for review and editing. We shall see what goes on from here. I'm sure I will be modifying things extensively.