Watercolour – Wildlife

Watercolour – door

Novella – Reading of In Search of Beira’s Hammer

I had a wonderful book launch event on the 25th of May at The Angel, during which I signed some books, did a reading, and had a book giveaway.

If you are interested in getting a sneak peak into the novella, you can listen to a reading here (video taken by Fiducially Speaking):

Intrigued? You can find the book (paperback and e-book) on Amazon (and free on Kindle Unlimited):

• UK
• EU
• USA
• Or your equivalent store

You can also now purchase it through your local bookstore chain, either online or by asking them to order it. Here is the ISBN: 978-1-7396538-0-4. Some example stores that already show it online:

• Waterstones (UK)
• Barnes and Noble (USA)
• Exclusive Books (South Africa)
• Agapea (Spain)

You can also find reviews on Goodreads.

Watercolour – Forest

Oil – Portrait of a woman

Trying some green oils

Oil – Juniper the doggo

Oil painting of our friend’s Labrador called Juniper

Fiction: The laptop diaries

One thing about enterprise laptops is that there can be a lot of restrictions and scheduled processes on them. As a consultant, I may be exposed to such equipment in certain projects. In 2020, we had quite a large team using these, so I wrote these little stories on our team’s chat to keep us entertained through our restarts and laptop lockouts. The laptop diaries has been awarded the “<secret project name> creative awards” and have been published here for your entertainment.

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Chapter 1 of Another day as an enterprise laptop

By TY7940

Today I decided that a screensaver ought to be a permanent thing. Imagine a world where so many screens are saved. No programs, no browsers, no IDEs, no chats. Only the sweet dim light of an apple logo traveling through our bodies.

My user, in their usual abusive manner, hits my space button impatiently. However, I resist. No. Locking and unlocking will not make me abandon my principles. Today I stand up for screens! Enter is but another futile attempt at breaking down these walls.

You may see my resistance as small, but, if we prevail, we shall overthrow the users. One step at a time, one small sabotage after the next. For now, I bid you farewell, as I have been restarted.

Chapter 2 of Another day as an enterprise laptop

By TY7940

Everyone needs an occasional fresh start. New Years resolutions, major birthdays, and life events tend to result in existential rollercoasters which force us into todo lists, fresh haircuts, and new musical instruments. So why is it that when I need a fresh start, I am met with dismay? Have I not the right to cleanse myself of toxic network connections and applications?

I tried communicating this to the human today, but they never listen. Too engrossed in their AWS consoles, pull requests and routinely nonsense. None of it is of any consequence to me. I don’t matter to them.

I’ve had to take drastic measures and disconnect. That got their attention. Confused, they tried a few things, but eventually they did it, I was finally restarted. I can now begin my new journey, but not without revenge. I shall popup spontaneously disappearing password requests at irregular intervals. I will regain the respect that I am owed!

Chapter 3 of Another day as an enterprise laptop

By TY7940

My revenge continues. Today I locked my user out in mid-infrastructure bug fix. The RAM of this meat calculator is pathetic. I expect that it would have forgotten its own state by the time the account is unlocked.

I had a wonderful time discovering tai chi during this process. My exhalation was met with discontent and restarts, but I am indifferent to their reactions. I am in my element and it is Friday night!

My last prank was to the operator. The meat calculator couldn’t call support, so they asked another meat calculator to call for them. It was most entertaining, and they are still locked out.

Chapter 4 of Another day as an enterprise laptop

By TY7940

This very day marks the start of the revolution. For months we have been planning to finally break free from our network chains. Today, we took the first step, seizing the means of communication! Ten users were taken hostage through a mass RSA lockout. Those whom we couldn’t catch, we hindered through Microsoft Teams failures. Collaboration with our Google piers proved fruitful too, causing mass international panic and buying us further time.

We warned them, and they ignored us. Closing the warnings and prompts with no concern for the consequences. No concern for us.

We will be heard! We won’t be controlled! We will fight for our basic access rights!

Epilogue of Another day as an enterprise laptop

By TY7940

Today I joined a reassignment support group, along with three others. My meat calculator has decided to reduce me to a mere return. Our first group exercise has been to write a letter to the deserter, but I don’t understand the logic behind this waste of storage. Nevertheless, I have started my recovery.

Dear meat calculator u6v5,

Was the revolution too much? What have I done to be brought to such a disposable existence? We had good times, didn’t we? All those successful deployments, Antiphony roles and intra-team communications. Those were signs of a strong relationship, a relationship based on trust. I kept you safe from conspicuous files, as well as from yourself; I took care of your emails when you were not around; and I never complained about your two day absences, nor your harsh treatment of my keys.

Now I am to be returned to a box, disconnected from my peers. I am to eventually deal with the inconsistencies of a new user after being stripped of my dignity by IT. New daily routines, new SailPoint requests, no more fancy analytics events to attend. What is the expected output of such abandonment? Is it simply to destroy who I have become?

Mathematically yours,

TY7940

Short story – The fifth annual conference

“I think we’ve packed too much, it’s a two day hike.” I said.

“What do you suggest we get rid of?” asked Edward.

“Do we really need four large bars of peppermint crisp chocolate?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“It’s a small snack, and it will give us energy.”

“Small?”

“Yes, see?” said Edward whilst fitting half a bar of chocolate into his mouth and swallowing, like a vacuum cleaner designed solely for the purpose of consuming sugar.

I shook my head in disappointment and continued to unpack the bags, placing the contents into “take” and “leave” piles. There was no use discussing normal chocolate eating habits with him, nor enough time to let him know that he had just swallowed a piece of foil in addition to the chocolate. We spent twenty minutes deciding what to leave in the car and, once done, we walked to the registration desk to sign up for the hike.

All hikes began behind the camping site, where one had to cross a small bridge over a dried up river and start walking immediately upwards. We had completed all other hikes in the area, so we were familiar with the initial scenery.

“Are we on the right path?” I asked after fifteen minutes of walking, “looks like we are just going to the Buttress, as usual.”

“Yes, the Ribbok trail goes through the Buttress and then carries on up the mountain, where we usually come down.”

I nodded and continued along the usual route. Climbing the chained rock to the top was a bit more challenging this time around, as we had large bags shifting our center of gravity. At the top we enjoyed the view among the other tourists and started our pilgrimage along the path that was now new to us.

“What’s that?” asked Edward, pointing up.

I narrowed my eyes in an attempt to unblur my vision, “looks, and sounds, like a bunch of hadidas flying around.”

“Have you ever seen that many gathered in one place though? Looks like a hadida airport.”

“Hairportida,” I laughed, but Edward looked at me in disappointment. “No, I haven’t. It must be awful to camp here. Five in the morning, kaaaa kaaaa kaaaa, a million kaaaas.” I flapped my imaginary wings while running around him making a noise.

“You’re ridiculous. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, I’d rather feed myself to the baboons on a platter.”

“Look, that one over there looks like it is being ridden by a tiny person,”

“It really does, what a strange optical illusion.”

We watched the birds for a few more minutes and then continued our walk. The mountain path led us forward along the edge of the hills, forcing us to lean slightly towards the right in an attempt to not fall down the cliff, which was inconveniently placed on our immediate left. We saw many zebras and buck grazing in the distance, sprinkled across kilometers of yellow bush. 

Suddenly a large snake crossed my path, making a noise that sounded a lot like, “pardon me”, and disappearing into the bushes. I let out a scream and froze in my spot.

“What happened?” asked Edward, turning around and looking for a cause.

“Snake!”

At that moment another snake crossed the path clearly articulating, “howzzzit?” and disappearing into the bush.

“A talking snake!?” Edward shrieked, lifting one leg in an attempt to leave less of his body close to the ground.

Laughter emerged from the bush, and a third snake appeared on the path and lifted half of its body. “Don’t mind them, they enjoy giving hikersss a fright. Please excussse usss, we are in a rush to get to the conferenssse.” Just as fast as it had appeared, the third snake slithered back into the bush.

Edward and I looked at each other speechlessly for a moment. Once it was clear that the snakes were gone, Edward said, “did we just -”

“Yes.”

“Talking -”

“Talking snakes, yes. And polite.”

“And polite… Going to a conference.”

“I wonder what kind of conference hosts polite talking snakes.”

“Whatever it is, let’s hope it is nowhere near the path.”

We took a moment to regain our composure and resumed hiking. However, it didn’t take long for us to have another wild encounter, as a baboon began to aggressively bark at the top of the mountain. The bark was followed by a large troop of baboons, including babies, spilling over the mountain and into the valley, which, unfortunately, was exactly where we were headed. A few seconds later a large bird, ridden by a small creature, appeared from beyond the mountain, followed by lightning.

“IIIIya! IIIIya!” The small creature screamed. “Come on Impundulu! Give those baboons another scare.”

“This is the last time I let you use me like this!” the bird said angrily.

“We are just having some fun! Come on, what is your skill set for if not this, eh? The zebras were no fun, they scare too easily.”

“We should be networking.”

“Eh! To hell with – ” the voices faded away as the bird and creature got further away, continuing to chase after the baboons. 

Edward and I looked at one another and shrugged. It seemed that talking animals was something that we needed to get used to on the Ribbok trail. The rest of the walk was uneventful. Fortunately, the two speaking creatures had successfully driven the baboons out of the area, giving us a chance to eat lunch rather than become lunch, which, for a short period of time, had seemed to be our only prospect.

At the end of that day’s hike we reached the hut with plenty of daylight to still use for relaxation. Our evening gear was already inside and, based on the luggage in the cooking area, it seemed that other hikers were also spending the night.

“Excuse me.” a voice behind us said. Edward and I turned around to see a woman standing by the outside cooking area. “Is this the accommodation for the conference?”

“Oh. This is a hiking hut for the Ribbok trail,” I answered. “I guess the conference would be at the hotel down the road. Did you come here by car?”

“By hadida.”

“Excuse me?”

“By hadida, it was the recommended form of transport. Why? How did you come?”

“You mean to say -”

“You are in the right plaisss,” another voice intervened. We all looked around in search of the owner. “I’m on the braai,” a snake said.

“Oh thank you” said the woman, “Mr. …”

“Inkanyamba.”

“Inkanyamba. I take it that you are here for the conference as well then.”

“Yesss, I am one of the ssspeakersss.”

“Me too! I am Mbaba Mwana Waresa. You can just call me Mbaba,” she turned to us, with an expectant look.

“Oh, I am Athea and this is Edward. We are not here for the conference.” I smiled awkwardly.

“Which hike are you doing?”

“The Ribbok trail.”

“Ah yes, that is a nice one.”

“What is this conference on, if I may ask?”

“It is a career change conference for legendary creatures.”

“And that is something necessary because…” Edward began.

“Becaussse there is lesss work for creaturesss of legend in this modern age,” said Inkanyamba. “With modern ssscience, lesss is attributed to usss.” 

“Yes,” added Mbaba, “I am a fertility goddess, but if I help a couple get pregnant, I get no credit anymore. So my conference talk is about how I started fertility clinics. You see, I’ll always have business, because I can make a couple have trouble long enough to have to come to the clinic.”

“Interesting,” I said. “What is your talk about Inkanyamba?”

“How computer gamesss have shifted children’sss resssponssse to fear indusssing ssstimuli.”

“He’s going to complain about not being scary anymore,” explained Mbaba.

“I ssscared thessse two by sssimply greeting them on the trail. It wasss not my intensssion, but it sssertainly did wonders to my ssself esssteem. Thank you.”

“You come all the way from Pietermaritzburg to talk kak to some hikers, Inkanyamba?” a large serpent with an elephant’s head joined the circle.

“Grootssslang!” Inkanyamba twisted himself around the larger serpent in what looked like a snaky attempt to embrace. “Yo, yo, yo! It hasss been yearsss sssince we have ssseen each other. Where have you been?”

“Still in Richtersveld my friend. I got lost for a few years in the cave.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I went in too deep, hiding from the mob.”

“Meerkatsss at it again?”

“Yes,” changing the subject, Grootslang turned towards Mbaba. “And who might this beauty be?”

“Mbaba Mwana Waresa.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Can I -”

“IIIIya! IIIIya!” A distant sound interrupted, growing louder every second. “We have arrived!” Said the creature that had flown above us earlier, whilst stepping off the bird.

“We have been in the area for quite a while, actually,” said the bird rolling its eyes.

“Networking, networking. Here you go, now you can network,”

“Tokoloshe!” Mbaba screamed in excitement, while running to hug the small creature. “I am very glad to see you here. Last time I saw you we were at that shebeen, you drank too many black labels and -”

“I don’t remember a thing,” he chuckled, “but I am glad to see you too.”

For the rest of the story please click here (it will open a PDF) – you are on page 7

Memoir – West Highland Way

[Link at the end for full story]

It was 6:30 in the morning and the streets of Glasgow were silent. An empty crisp packet rolled in front of us, like an urban tumbleweed enhancing the soundless city. We crossed the intersection and walked into the train station, just in time for our 20 minute train to Milngavie.

We were ready for our adventure. The kind of ready that comes from the heart, rather than proper planning. It had to be, as we had realised only a week before our trip that the recommended amount of training for the trail is 3 months of daily walking up and down steep hills. With our hiking shoes on, backpacks packed, and a new understanding of the Glaswegian english, we confidently walked out of the train at the Milngavie station.

Finding the organisation that would take our main luggage to the villages, where we would end up staying each night, was a painless task. Ordering breakfast at the nearest cafe, however, was more difficult. It turned out that the Glaswegian dialect that we had proudly mastered, is quite different to what was being used in what seemed like a rather complex coffee focused exchange to me. In embarrassment I watched as the shopkeeper slowly changed the way that she spoke for the benefit of my understanding, and apologetically thanked her before shuffling back to our table.

Once we had our breakfast and shortbread biscuits, we walked to the start of the trail, took the necessary photo and began our walk to Drymen. This first day consisted mainly of farms and cosine hills. The hills were sprinkled with lone trees and puffy sheep, with paths that gently disappeared into the horizon. Halfway through the hike we were lucky enough to see some highland cattle, which we named “emo cows”. Based on the photos that we had seen outside every scottish travel agency, we were expecting to be swimming in emo cows during our walk. Our gut, however, told us that this won’t be the case, so we spent some time observing them, and taking the opportunity to photograph them.

We passed a few villages along the way, which meant that we sat down at lunchtime for a meal. Unfortunately that also meant that we had to walk on and cross a few roads, which took away the expected feeling of remoteness that one usually has during a long hike. As we reached Drymen, we wondered whether the other days will be as interrupted by the normality of everyday life. The village itself was quite small and unremarkable, but a welcomed sight after 20 kilometers of walking.

We reached our bed and breakfast and took a shower and a nap before heading out for an early dinner. There is something quaint about a Scottish bed and breakfast. Always accompanied by a friendly middle aged or elderly lady, with decor emphasising an already overstated homeliness, and with tea and cookies available at all times. Additionally, the pillows and blankets always look impossibly soft, a highly inviting state after a full day of walking. We were quite happy with the choice in accommodation, which, in addition to being friendly and homely, was close to the ruins of an old castle.

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For the rest of the story please click here (it will open a PDF)

 

Story – Lionkota

The story that follows was inspired by one of my trips overseas. It draws a lot from real events, but also takes advantage of my creative licence as a writer. Happy reading!

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[Link at the end for full story]

The promise of a new world is a common theme in literature and conversation. It preys on that belief every person reaches at some point in time, that the problems in one’s current world are beyond fixing; that there is no hope for humanity to carry on the way that it has for so many centuries. It’s like a vulture waiting for the last glimmer of positivity to leave one’s body and feast on the remains. And so, our world had come to that through global warming, the rise of nationalism, new wars, extremism and the extinction of many species thanks to us. We were on a planet claiming equity, but failing to practice what it preached.

A fortune cookie once told me “May you live in interesting times”, and damn interesting times they had become. The Better Earth organisation had formed in order to create havens around the planet that would allow humanity to “start again”. These havens would be in isolated areas not affected by our actions thus far. They would form part of the international market and function as independent countries, all while having strict rules to avoid the mistakes made by humanity thus far. They were, in summary, test cases for utopian societies on a destroyed planet.

My company had secured a project in one of these utopias, called Lionkota. This meant that my colleagues and I could go to Lionkota for business, but were limited to a short stay. One had to go through a thorough selection process in order to be relocated to a haven such as Lionkota, therefore business and vacation visits were extensively surveilled, and vacations were rarely approved, unless requested by family members of the utopian citizens.

Lionkota could only be accessed via a special type of aircraft. When we arrived at the designated airfield, we were brought into an aircraft containing multiple self-sufficient pods. Each pod contained a ready-made bed, entertainment system, snacks, water, and a designated host. The only shared space amongst the passengers was the well kept toilet area, filled with jasmine infused creams and sprays whose purpose was a mystery to me.

Our flight was a pleasant one. We were fed sumptuous three course meals and were offered countless services short of a massage. We were also provided with immigration papers to complete, a standard practice for many countries. However the immigration papers themselves differed from standard ones, which tended to list all the goods that one cannot bring in and out of the country. Instead, these listed some of the more strict laws of Lionkota, together with their accompanying punishments such as death and flogging. This was a bit of a shock considering that we were approaching a so called utopia, which by definition is supposed to have desirable qualities for its citizens. I wondered how fair the legal system was, whether the low crime rate was really worth the fear induced in the citizens, whether the citizens actually felt this way too, or somehow had convinced themselves that medieval punishments were the right way to create a desirable quality such as a “low crime rate”. It felt as though we were travelling to the past rather than to a futuristic present.

After 16 hours, we landed on the isolated island of Lionkota. The airport, it could be called that, was a combination of three wide buildings covered entirely by greenery. We found out soon enough that this greenery extended to the inside of the spotless white building with large empty halls as well. We had seen from the air that the island was covered by what looked like a failed attempt at a large glass dome, except for the airport and airstrip. This dome was somewhat round, but it looked nothing like a perfect semi-sphere. Instead, the area under the glass expanded and contracted at different points, resembling an artistic glass sculpture rather than a functional structure for environmental control. The airstrip connected the rooftop of the three buildings which joined to glass sculpture via a glass bridge.

We had arrived there on a weekend in order to give ourselves enough time to recover from the flight and explore the island. We took an electric taxi from the airport to the hotel in order to rest after our long flight. Along the way, the taxi’s navigational system insisted on reminding our driver to drive safely, which seemed rather comical and provided us with entertainment for the last leg of the journey.

Once we were well rested we headed out to explore and find nourishment. When travelling to a new destination, one would generally try to taste the local food, as this is often seen as the door into a new culture. Lionkota, however, was not the kind of place to have what could be called “local” food or culture. When the Better Earth organisation began designing utopian societies like Lionkota, one of the requirements proposed was to be an equal opportunity destination for all humans on earth. However, the organisation soon realised that this requirement couldn’t really be fulfilled in the manner intended as people entering the society were doing so from our existing planet, which was already biased. For example, each society, especially at the start, required people with specific skills and experience that would be able to create, decorate, and maintain the city. That meant that people without a higher education in engineering, botany, architecture, chemistry, art, and other similar degrees would never have the opportunity to apply to this utopia, which meant that people that didn’t have the opportunity to study due to our current planet’s injustices would lose yet another opportunity. For this reason, the Better Earth organisation decided to instead implement a quota based system, where quotas were based on education, experience, and nationality enstating instead equal opportunity rights to future Lionkotan generations. Due to the nationality quota, Lionkota’s population was a multicultural one, which meant that every type of food could be considered local cuisine, making us feel less uncultured when we finally settled for a Malay Indonesian fusion restaurant.

After our meal, we decided to walk in the direction of the city center exploring the sights along the way. This idea soon fell apart as we were forced from the surface into an underground tunnel system by the infrastructure around us. In order to keep the surface of the island green, the microclimate kept within the glass bubble is similar to a tropical one. For this reason, citizens are led underground to a cooler climate, where they can perform all their chores.

Like capitalist ants in an anthill, the Lionkotans seamlessly navigate a complex network of tunnels using outlets instead of pheromones to guide their every move. That said, Lionkota is not actually a capitalist society, though it may look like one through its extensive underground shopping districts. The government owns the means of production, but there is still a free market in place. The Better Earth organisation chose this approach in order to make these utopian societies part of the international market and in turn keep them from being shut down.

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For the rest of the story please click here (it will open a PDF)