BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

“With the success of shows like Millennium and Profiler, I suspect the Rowan Gant series should do very well…”

The above is a quote from a literary agent with whom I had dealings way back when I was searching out a home for the first RGI novel, Harm None and its then “proposed but not yet written” sequels. I will admit the sentence is slightly paraphrased because that was many years ago and I truly have no idea what happened to the original letter. Still, I can pretty much recall this particular quote because it really had an impact on me.

Why?

Simple. Because in that one sentence he put my works in the same class as Millennium. To me, this was the ultimate compliment… You see, I was – and still am – a huge fan of that series. And, yes, I also watched Profiler, but Millennium was the show that got under my skin and stayed there.

So, let’s look at that comparison for just a second…

The RGI novels are a dark, gritty, police procedural type series about Rowan Gant, a reluctant paranormal investigator turned police consultant who has uncanny insight into the crimes and serial offenders he helps investigate.

Millennium is a dark, gritty, police procedural type series about Frank Black, a former FBI Agent / Case Investigator, (AKA “Profiler”), who now works as a consultant and has uncanny insight into the crimes and serial offenders he helps investigate.

See any similarities there?

Now, I do need to point something out – I wrote Harm None before the first episode of Millennium ever aired. Granted, HN wasn’t published until 2000, but the long and painful road to publication is another story entirely, and one that many authors know all too well – and, yes, it really took that long to find a home for the RGI series… Yeah, I know… Seemed silly to me too.  Suffice it to say, there were plenty of rejection slips to be had before Harm None ever made it to bookstore shelves, but the above quote from a Lit Agent is what kept me going each time I hit a brick wall… Eventually, those walls started to crumble, and there was even a good deal of time spent negotiating with an acquisitions editor at Penguin-Putnam. Again, another story entirely, because I ended up with a different publisher.

However, my point here is that Rowan Gant is not based on Frank Black. And, before anyone gets in a tizzy, I’m not claiming the converse, either.  That would be pretty hard to accomplish unless Chris Carter, creator of the TV series, was sneaking into my house in the middle of the night and stealing my manuscripts. And, while I love a good conspiracy as much as the next person, I don’t think that one is very likely.

I do believe, however, that maybe Mister Carter and I happen to think quite a bit alike. Still, he took one fork in the road and I took the other – even if the two paths ended up running “kinda sorta” parallel in a sense.

For instance, while the two characters have these amazing, vision-like insights, Rowan Gant embraces the magick and mysticism behind his abilities, whereas Frank Black for the most part eschews the mysticism and embraces the science. There are many other points where they diverge, but I’m not going to prattle on about that… The reason being, I’m not really here to make a comparison.

I’m here to talk about Millennium and its fans…

Like I said earlier, I am one of those rabid fans. Just like Browncoats, those foaming at the mouth, done the impossible, die-hard fans of Firefly who managed to create enough noise to get Serenity made, a movie based on that particular prematurely canceled series. (As my regular readers know, I’m a Browncoat too.)

But, back to Millennium… I have the entire series on DVD – which includes the X-Files episode that gave us addicted types a glimpse of where Frank Black was heading once the series itself had been canceled after only three seasons. I’ve watched the whole set several times, and will watch  it several more times in the future. It just never gets old for me.

In addition to the series, I also have the soundtrack on CD at home, in my truck, and even a few ripped MP3’s on my computer and MP3 player.  (Mark Snow – great music…) I can’t tell you how many times I have used that MP3 player and more specifically, the extended version of the Millennium main title theme to drown out a chatty wingnut seated next to me on a long flight.

I had an Ouroboros screen saver with a progressive countdown to the Millennium… Back in the day, when I turned my computer on it would display, “Good morning / afternoon / evening, Murv. There are XXX days remaining…”

Every now and then you might even notice that I pay homage to Millennium in my blogs, either via a mention in the text, a reference, a quote, or even by the title of the entry itself.  For example, the upcoming installment, “Somehow Satan Got Behind Me…” While that particular post doesn’t actually have anything to do with Millennium, the title is borrowed from the title of episode 21 from season 2 of the show. The title for this entry is itself  a paraphrased line of dialogue from the classic tongue-in-cheek episode, “Jose Chung And The Doomsday Defense,” (episode 9, season 2)…

And, yes, I will admit it – I even have a limited edition Frank Black action figure, (produced by Sideshow Toys), still pristine in the box, that I hope to have Lance Henriksen autograph for me some day. (In case it isn’t immediately obvious, Mister Henriksen is the actor who portrayed Frank Black in the series). If I’m lucky, since I tend to get booked in to do signings at SF/Fantasy Conventions, maybe our paths will cross. Trust me, if I am ever scheduled for a con and I see that he is a guest there as well, I will definitely be packing the action figure in my suitcase. If it gets searched and the TSA folks laugh at me for being a grown man who is packing around a glorified GI Joe doll, so be it. I mean, after all, it’s Frank Black we’re talking about here…

And as an aside, on the note of dolls, I really wish they had also produced a Katherine Black action figure too, based  of course on Megan Gallagher. But then, as I’ve mentioned before, I have sort of a “thing” for Ms. Gallagher – nothing weird,  sicko, scary, or stalkerish, mind you… (and trust me, with the research I’ve done for the RGI novels, I know more about that sort of Psychopathology than I ever wanted…) The real deal is pretty simple… Of all the celebrity types out there, I just happen to find her exceptionally appealing. Probably because she – and moreover her character, Katherine Black – remind me of my wife, E K. Yeah, I know,  a character is a character. Trust me, I am intimately familiar with the whole transference thing. I can’t count how many times I have had people think that I am Rowan Gant, and I just write the stories. No acting involved.  And, I also know that Miz Gallagher and E K aren’t dead ringers for one another or anything of that sort, but they are both absolutely gorgeous, IMHO. However, as I’ve also said before, if I were to ever meet the woman in person I’d probably be so tongue-tied that I would look like an utter moron. So, it’s probably a good thing they didn’t produce a Katherine Black action figure, because if I had one, then had an opportunity to meet Miz Gallagher, I’d probably stand there stammering like a fool.  Therefore, she’d most likely run the other direction as quickly as possible and I’d never get it autographed.

Yeah, like I said, I’m a die hard Millennium fan…

So, at this point I am sure you are wondering why I am babbling about all this? Well, that’s simple. I know that some of you who read my books are Millennium fans as well. And, those of you who aren’t already familiar with the show would probably become fans right from episode one if you ever saw it. So, I would recommend picking up the DVD boxed sets and having yourself a Millennium marathon. It’s definitely more than worth it.

But, wait, there’s more…

Come on… You knew there would be.

Some time back I was “friended” on Myspace by “Back To Frank Black“… Most likely because Millennium is listed under “favorite TV shows” on my profile.  I gave their page a cursory look as I always do when I receive a friend request, but since I was in the middle of meeting a manuscript deadline I didn’t have time to really get into it. Now, while I’m deeply involved in a manuscript, my deadline isn’t looming as close as it was then, so I actually had an opportunity to look a bit closer.

Back To Frank Black turns out to be not only a fan created Myspace page, but a website and blog as well. What’s more, it is a fan-based movement. The page features interviews with Lance Henriksen, and others from the series such as Kristen Cloke and Sarah-Jane Redmond… Maybe they’ll interview Megan Gallagher sometime soon… Hey, a guy can dream can’t he?

But, let’s not digress in that direction…

The BTFB movement actually has a mission – that being to reach out to fans and create a groundswell of demand for a Millennium Movie, or even return of the series. While the original storyline was threaded with the coming Millennium, (at the time – it originally ran Fall 96 – Spring 99), it was truly based in the psychopathology of the hysteria stemming from that impending event. Such sociopathic behaviors have not disappeared simply because Y2K has come and gone. If anything, they may be worse.

Throughout history there have been a plethora of “doomsayers” and prophecies to fuel the fires of the unstable. This most certainly has not changed. For instance, we have 2012 on its way. Supposedly the end of time as we know it… And, trust me, that’s only the tip of the proverbial iceberg where End Times Prophecy is concerned. A quick search on the internet will show you that much… So, the story fodder here is endless…

Therefore… If you are a Millennium fan, do yourself a favor and run by backtofrankblack.com to check it out. If you aren’t yet a fan, then surf on by there anyway and have a look. The interviews are great, as are the fans.

And, if you are an RGI fan, I’m betting you’ll be all about Frank Black, and you’ll want to see his return as much as I, and countless other Millennium fans around the world.

To borrow from the series itself…

The time is near… The time is now.

This is who we are…

Murv

What you are about to read is probably going to seem just a bit bizarre. But, then again, all of my blogs have a tendency to read that way, or so I am told. In any event, this is a “two-parter”, and as bizarre as it may seem to you folks as you read it, bear in mind that it is true… actually happened… no kidding… so, imagine how I felt at the time…

The phone rang and I looked over at the over sized digits on my LED alarm clock. (Yeah, this was back when big, wood grain veneered LED alarm clocks were exceptionally cool and it showed just how amazingly hip you were if you had one…seriously… Owning such an alarm clock wouldn’t necessarily get you laid, but it didn’t hurt…) Even though one of the segments in the display was having a tendency to flicker on and off, probably due to a cold solder joint I hadn’t bother to repair just yet, I had learned to decipher the numbers and know generally what time it really was, no matter what they displayed.

It read something like 10:38 PM. In this particular case, that meant something like 10:38 PM. Yeah, go figure. The segment happened to be working at that particular moment.

I sat up,  stared across the room at where the phone was sitting on my desk and furrowed my brow. I couldn’t actually see the phone since the lights were out and all, but I knew right where it was. It rang again and I continued to stare in its general direction. You see, even though I was in my early twenties – like really early twenties – and was all about partying just like anyone else my age, I had to go to work the next morning. I even had to go in early because I was the assistant manager of a VideoConcepts™ at the Northwest Plaza mall and it was my turn to open the store.

This is not to mention, although I already mentioned it,  that the hour was 10:38 PM give or take a few minutes, depending upon whose version of accurate you happened to be following.

“Why is that important,” you ask?  Well, because you just don’t call someone after 9 PM or before 8 AM unless 1) Someone is dead, 2) Someone has been in a bad accident, or 3) You’re in jail and need to be bailed out. There are even sub-qualifications, like with #1, if the person who is dead isn’t all that close to the person being notified, then instead of disturbing them that night, you should add them to the list of people to call after 8 AM the next day.  Or with #3, if the offense is so minor that they are just going to spring you in the morning, grab a nap and leave your friends alone. You got yourself into the mess, not them. There is, of course, the “I just killed someone and I need you to help me hide the body” clause, but that can only be invoked with certain friends, so you have to be careful with it.

In any event, that’s just the way it is. Everybody knows the rules.

Seriously. Those are the rules. At least, they are in the south, where I am from. I know,  I know… Since I was living in St. Louis I wasn’t technically “in” the south, but since I was at home, it was kind of like a foreign embassy – i.e. when within the confines of that property line you were on southern soil and therefore you obeyed southern rules and etiquette.

At this particular moment, I was pretty well convinced that I had a breach of etiquette on my hands.

I continued staring in the direction of the phone. For the life of me I couldn’t imagine who would be calling at this hour. I doubted anyone close enough to me to qualify for any of the pre-requisites listed above was out and about, so I knew there were no deaths or injuries to be reported. And, all I could say was that if bail was involved, someone was going to need to do some fast talking.

The infernal device hadn’t yet stopped clamoring so I climbed out of the bed, flipped on the light switch then padded around the end of my king sized waterbed to my desk and picked up the handset.

“Hello?”

Click!

“Lovely,” I thought. Well, I’m not actually sure what it was that I thought. I am, however, fairly certain I muttered something on the order of “F*ck you too.”

I settled the phone back into the cradle then turned around and started back toward the bed. Before I’d made it two steps the  nuisance began to ring again. I turned in place, went back to my desk, and snatched up the handset.

“Hello?”

Tick, Tick, Tick… Click… Tick… (silence) Skrrreeeeeee-warble-skreeeeeee…

“What the f*ck?” I muttered aloud.

Remember, this was nineteen-eighty-five. Fax machines weren’t exactly commonplace so picking up your phone and hearing a carrier signal from a misdial… Well, that just didn’t happen all that much. (BTW, just as a point of interest – Facsimile Machines – as we called them back then before truncating words became all the rage – were also huge, had a  rapidly spinning drum to which you attached your document, and took approximately 7 1/2 minutes to transmit a single page at low resolution… I know this because we used one at the VideoConcepts™ store to transmit customer credit applications to the corporate office.)

Still, even though hearing a warbling carrier in your ear wasn’t exactly heard of in that day and age – at least for the average Joe – I had a bit of a clue. I had been working with computers since I was 15 – anything from programming to tech work – when I could get that sort of work, that is.  And, when I had started in the biz, communication between systems was done by acoustic coupling modem. If you don’t know what that is, rent the movie Wargames with Matthew Broderick and watch it. When he dials the phone, listens for a carrier, then plunks the receiver down on box with some foam inserts that look like they were designed just for a telephone handset to fit into… Well, that’s an acoustic coupling modem.

My point is, I had been around this block. I knew exactly what a modem carrier signal sounded like. However, I certainly didn’t consider it normal that I was hearing one screech out of my personal telephone line.

Now, in 1985 we had actually moved beyond acoustic couplers. We were using A-D modems – either internal or external – to which you simply plug in your phone. Of course, back in 1985, a speed of 300 bits per second was the norm, and 1200 was high end. 2400 was a brass ring on the nearing horizon.  If all that means nothing to you, I understand… But, to give you a comparison, your average home computer talks to the internet via low end DSL at around 512 – 768 Kilobits per second. High end you are talking about 3 Megabits per second or better. See the contrast? Figured you might.

But, anyway, the roundabout point here is that I knew very well what I was hearing.

Out of curiosity, and nothing more, I sat down at my computer, still holding the phone in my hand. I flipped on the monitor, then the CPU and watched the green cursor wink at me from the monochrome screen while it booted up. I was running an an actual IBM model 5150 CPU, but I had pulled a Millennium Falcon on it, and to quote Han Solo, had “made a few special modifications myself.” Yeah, soldering irons, discrete components, and some tech knowledge can get you into serious trouble. So, I was running an overclocked processor and some fast DIP RAM, so my “big blue streak” was pushing about 6.5 Mhz instead of the stock 4.77 Mhz… woohoo… whoa! slow down before you hit something. Again, the perspective thing for those not familiar – the average CPU speed these days is 1.7 Gigahertz or higher.

Yeah…So you can see what I was dealing with. But, look at it this way. It was 1985 and for its day, that box was lightning fast. Relatively and metaphorically, of course…

The system finally booted up, to DOS, from diskettes. (No hard drive… I didn’t get my first hard drive for another several months and it was a whopping 10 Megabytes in size and cost me right at $600 with the controller.) Unfortunately, although I had now arrived at a command prompt, the phone had clicked and gone dead.

I dropped the handset back into the cradle, then slipped a modem communications program diskette into the B drive (I had TWO, count ’em, TWO 5 1/4″ 360Kb floppy disks… big time stuff.) I had only just started typing in the command to execute the program (yeah… we had to do stuff like that back then… no pointy, no clicky… A whole lotta typie though…) when the phone started ringing again.

Instead of answering it I sat there gesturing at the screen in hopes that doing so would make the program load faster.

It didn’t, but I still tried.

The communications protocols loaded, the core of the program bootstrapped, and then finally, the application screen appeared. I cursored down the menu (this was a pretty fancy piece of software) and hit enter to drop myself into the command mode. As fast as I could I typed an alternate initialization string to reset the modem and put it into auto answer mode. When I hit enter at the end of the string of characters, the screen cleared, the phone cut off mid peal, and several lines of gibberish scrolled across the monitor.

There was a quick screech, then a loud click from speaker on my internal modem, and then silence. The cursor just sat winking at me.

On a hunch, I “control keyed” myself back to the command mode, reset the modem with the same initialization string as before, then waited. A few seconds later, the phone did indeed start to ring. My init string had included a command to keep the modem from picking up until after the third ring, so I waited impatiently as the old bell on the desk phone rattled, rattled again, and then rattled a third time. As it started to ding a fourth time, it was interrupted and the modem clicked.

Once again a screech issued from the speaker inside the box, then warbled, then screeched again. A warble-screech-hiss combination followed and the modem clicked again, but it was a different kind of click, and it was one I recognized.

It was a connection.

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT: Who Is This, And How Did You Get In My Computer? PART 2