On March the 21st, 2006 heptapod.org mistakenly referred to raddidge as "chiggen". heptapod.org regrets the error. The error has been swiftly corrected by the editor and sole contributor.
Seriously, I don't care if I'm spoiling the book for anyone out there. There's a pair of Dyson spheres which suddenly become interesting to the Earth empire or republic or governing body. They decide, "Let's go see!" Once they arrive one of the Dyson spheres vanishes and they discover it was containing a viciously warlike race whose idea of first contact is firing nuclear warheads. A side story is about a planet that has a derelict alien ship on its surface. A group called the Guardians of Selfhood are considered cranks who believe that an alien survived the wreck and lurks among humanity. Turns out that they're actually on to something.
After that, the book couldn't hold my interest. I just stopped caring about the story. Sure there was a mildly interesting side murder mystery that was solved by a woman who was genetically engineered by some offworld cult to be a cop and it was a nice story. One of the big muckety-mucks who enabled wormholes and the subsequent colonization of known space decides to go on walkabout to discover the secret of these aliens who are just elves-in-space. Surely these plot threads come together at the end of the book or in Judas Unchained but nearly six hundred pages into the novel and there's nothing bringing it together in sight just eroded my will to complete Pandora's Star.
It just seems like this lonely fat kid sat in his basement for years on end because he was always picked last for kickball, created a space opera and decided to include everything in the story which really isn't necessary. Jesus fucking Christ, I don't want a tour of your creation I just want a fucking story rather than an endless succession of characters who really don't forward the plot!
You know what, when I finally gave up on Pandora's Star one thought hit me. A few years back I read the first book in the Dune prequels by Kevin J. Anderson and Brian Herbert. Good lord this was an abomination and I was a fool thinking these dimwits could ape Frank Herbert. Pandora's Star was almost exactly like it except Pandora's Star had smaller text, used fifty cent words and used a different science fiction universe. As I flipped forward to read about Ozzie's adventures in the Ice Citadel and how he finally escapes I was reminded of how I skipped forward and read only Selim's story. I'm sure that Mr. Hamilton's book would've been better if he released it as five or six separate volumes rather than packing fifty pounds of shit into a five pound bag.
With some reproach, I picked up the copy of Old Man's War from my bookshelf. I had promised myself that I would read it once I completed Pandora's Star. What a sincere joy it is to read Scalzi. Good characters, good dialog and a good story that's not overwhelmed by treknobabble or constantly reminding the reader "YEP WE'RE REALLY IN OUTER SPACE. YESSIRREE. LOOK AN ALIEN! THEY'RE ONLY IN SPACE! NOW SAY 'WOW'."
I stopped reading Cryptonomicon because Neal Stephenson seems to be in love with his voice. The book reads like a manual rather than an actual, epic story. Heck, I've even tried keeping it next to the toilet so I could read a page or two in those quiet moments and maybe the momentum would pick up again and I'd be knee deep in this supposedly geeky story.
Now I wouldn't feel so bad about Cryptonomicon if I hadn't purchased it for full price, instead getting it from maribou's used book store.
So I'm back in New Jersey and there are these hippy kids who are climbing all over my parents's house. Their painted bodies leaving dirty footprints all over the shingles, dirty hair shining in the sunlight. I'm in the upstairs bathroom in my parents's bedroom when I get completely fed up. I yank the window shade making it flap noisily up and against the windowpane. That spooked 'em! Thumping feet running away from the noise led to a scream and a loud crash. Peering through the blinds in the other room, I saw one of them fell on my father's Ferrari. The windows were blown out and the roof crumpled in. Ten or fifteen of the savages stood around the scene of the crime blinking in disbelief and not knowing what to do for their fallen comrade.
Scene shift, I'm back in Colorado. The Colorado of my dreams which is full of vast, green prairies and imposing mountains which are more of a barrier than a geographical feature. A good and wholesome sun shone down upon creation and all was good in the world. Bored out of my mind, I decided to stalk the president of my company. See, the guy never shows up except around Christmas or when there are Special Visitors who are going to sell their company to him after he's done schmoozing for the day. The guy's secretive.
So I am crawling through bushes and hiding behind trees towards the alleged home of the company president. Rumor has it that he lives in a cul-de-sac. Not much help but something inside me is my compass. Ahead is a large, ranch-style house and a voice in my head is saying my destination is just beyond that house. Unfortunately this house is home to a large galoot of a golden retriever named Cyrus. First he started barking and charging towards me but once he heard me say his name he accepted me as part of his family and pack. Stupid dog. Now he wouldn't leave me alone and this was making my ninja stealth incredibly more difficult.
Eventually Cyrus got bored and ran home for dinner. Almost immediately after I found the company president's home. This was another ranch-style house. 80% of the house was just a covered patio. On opposite ends of the patio were the various necessities of a home like a bathroom and kitchen. My quest completed, I ran down the dusty roads and through the maze of trails back to my apartment. Back home, I leapt on my bed and laughed to myself. Outside my window, where Olympics Guy usually parks, was a black Volkswagen Beetle. Peering over the ledge I saw that the company president had stalked me! His daughter and adopted cenobite daughter were in the car laughing as he peeled out of the driveway towards points unknown.
The rest of my dream was spent trying to remember the names of the heads of Cerberus. Recently the Hubble Telescope observed two additional moons for the planet Pluto. Only in my dream were there three moons plus Charon. I figured the three moons oughta be named after the hell-bitch's heads. So I went around asking random people in the street if they knew the names of the heads but most gave me blank stares.
Now my dream had taken a turn for the worst. raddidge approached me and told me that she was pregnant. She was cloyingly sarcastic to me, cupping her belly and cooing about how I'm going to be a daddy. "So you're not going to get an abortion?"
"No, I'm going to have your baaaaaaaybeeeeee. You want a baby!" followed by raddidge laughing maniacally at me.
Even weirder, her stomach had six pack abs.
