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

Continued From:

Who Is This, And How Did You Get In My Computer? PART 1…

The modem had finally negotiated a compatible communications protocol and was “speaking” to another device somewhere. For all I knew, that somewhere was halfway around the world, or just right next door – remember, Caller ID was just an idea from the land of Sci-Fi back then…

I waited impatiently for what was going to happen next… Having seen Wargames more than once – I did work at a video store, after all – I was pretty much bracing myself for some idiot to type in “SHALL WE PLAY A GAME?” then tell me his name was Joshua and that he controlled all of the nuclear missiles in the country. If that happened, I was going to be even less happy than I already was.

The screen cleared and the phosphor green cursor winked at me from the upper left corner of the monitor. I sat watching, my hands in my lap and one eyebrow raised as I waited for something more to appear. After what seemed like a full thirty seconds had passed, the cursor dropped down two lines on the screen of its own accord, as if some phantom had just hit the enter key twice.

A second or two later, one laborious letter at a time, the word “hello” appeared.

I was still perturbed, but now I was also slightly curious. Obviously I had a live person at the other end, and I was assuming they were aware that they had one too. After all, they had just kept calling and calling until they managed a connection, so this apparently fit into their plan somewhere along the line.

Of course, I did have one thing going through my mind. BBS’s (Bulletin Board Systems – a precursor to the Internet) were seriously gaining popularity around this time. I, myself, frequented several, and while I ended up actually hosting and running one a few months after this incident, I wasn’t doing so at that moment. Of course, someone with a number close to mine could have been, and this could all be a matter of a mis-dial. This would mean the person at the other end might be just as confused as me right now since there was no welcome screen or login prompt being displayed.

I stared at the glowing word on the screen a moment longer. The thing was, BBS popularity was big among the 11-14 year old crowd, so I really needed to avoid typing back a string of expletives damning this person for interrupting my night, lest it be some tween with a Commodore 64 who would go running to mommy and daddy screaming that some guy at XXX-XXXX telephone number was cussing at him.

Keeping this in mind, I rested my fingers on the keys. “Hello,” I typed back, much faster than my mystery caller had. Of course, I typed around 85wpm back then. Now, it’s more like 60wpm. Arthritis seriously sucks… But, I digress…

The person at the other end slowly typed again, “hello”.

I rolled my eyes. It seemed I didn’t have a rocket scientist calling me, so the likelihood of it being a tween with a hastily – and incorrectly – scrawled BBS number from a buddy at school instantly grew.

I set my fingers flying across the keyboard once again. “Sorry, but this number isn’t a BBS. It’s the number for a private individual.”

I waited for a response.

It came. “ya so”

Apparently the mystery tween was also a smartass who didn’t have a shift key or a grasp of punctuation. The latter two, while irritating, I could forgive. The first one, not so much… So, not really having patience for that sort of thing – I was young, remember…not that I have all that much patience for it now either, but I was much worse back then – I control-keyed myself over to the command menu and disconnected the call without bothering to type an answer.

Now, the thing about modems is this – they only do what they have been told to do. And, back then (even today for that matter, though it is far more transparent than it was in the good ol’ days) you would generally tell them to do something with what was called an “AT” command. Why? Because all commands started with the letters “AT” of course, which more or less stood for “ATTENTION”… So, it was pretty much “Attention modem, do this” – although it took the form of commands like ATA (Attention modem: Answer) or ATS13=0 (Attention modem: set bit on register 13 to zero – essentially “off”… binary and all that jazz…)

My point here is that with the exception of telling the modem to disconnect the annoying a$$wipe kid who was connected, the last thing I had told the device to do was initialize in the Auto Answer mode. Since I had not “reset” any registers, as far as it was concerned, it was going to answer the phone.

So, when the phone inevitably rang again, it did what it was intent on doing.

I suppose I could have picked up the phone, or  quickly entered a re-init code before the third ring had sounded, but I didn’t. I just muttered, “Little f*cking bastard,” and sat there as the system connected and warbled through a fresh protocol negotiation.

The screen cleared and I was faced with “hello” once again.

I keyed in, “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“no” was the response.

I typed back, “Some of us have to go to work in the morning.”

“ya me to,” my mystery caller laboriously returned. (BTW, I am misspelling my mystery caller’s entries as close to the way they were misspelled as I can remember.)

I raised an eyebrow… Okay, either I had an adult or a lying tween. I was leaning toward lying tween, but one never knew. You still don’t these days. Susie Silky Thighs in the hot sex chat room could be a 52 year old drunk guy sitting there in his underwear pulling his pud for all you know. I think there was even a viral video out on the net where someone used that idea for a commercial or something… Yeah, I know… Oh look, a chicken… (I really, really do think that chicken thing is friggin’ hilarious…) Oh, and BTW, I don’t hang out in hot sex chatrooms… I’m married to E K, so why would I bother? My ex-boss did, however, and probably still does… yeah, ‘nother blog.

So, anyway, mystery caller says he/she has to go to work in the morning too.

“Okay, so don’t you think it’s bedtime?” I typed back.

“not yet,” was the reply. “what ar you dooing”

“Getting annoyed,” I replied.

“ya”

I decided to ask the obvious question. “Who is this?”

“you no” came across the screen.

I replied, “Obviously I don’t or I wouldn’t have asked.”

By way of a response I got, “pool open yet”

This one gave me pause. Obviously this was someone who knew me, or  at the very least knew I had a pool. If it was one of my friends then they already knew whether or not the pool was open, so I couldn’t imagine them asking such a question. I turned in my seat to look around at my windows. The blinds were drawn so I didn’t figure I was being watched, unless this whack job on the other end had X-ray vision or something. I allowed my gaze to linger for a moment on the headboard of the bed where I had my loaded .357 magnum stashed. I considered getting it out and laying it beside the keyboard, but thought maybe that was being just a bit too paranoid.

“Who is this?” I typed again, none to excited about the creepy stalker feeling I was now getting.

“i see you tammarow” was the only answer I received before the modem clicked and the call disconnected.

I sat for nearly an hour waiting for another call, but it never came.

Before finally climbing back into bed I saw to it that I checked the load on my pistol and shifted it to be within reaching distance if something awakened me unexpectedly… You know, like a psycho killer stalker or something, know what I mean?

The next morning I was still ruminating over the whole incident, and doing a lot of looking over my shoulder as well. I called all my friends with computer equipment and asked them if they were screwing with me, to which I received believable answers to the negative. I told my co-workers about it and even a couple of my regular customers who had become slightly more than acquaintances but not quite good friends. They all agreed that it was a bit weird, and one even suggested I contact the police. Of course, even then I knew better than to believe the cops would do anything about it. I mean, after all, what could they do other than take a report? That way there would be a paper trail when my corpse was found hanging from a swing set in the park with my hands chopped off, or some oddball crap like that.

Yeah… big help…

It was sometime after lunch – mid afternoon as I recall – when Scott Ruddle wandered into the store and listened to me tell the story.  (In case you are new here, or don’t remember previous references to Scott, he ended up being my best man when E K and I married. He’s also the person upon whom the character Detective Benjamin Storm, from the RGI novels, is based… Yeah, that Scott Ruddle…) So, anyway, this was well prior to the beer can tossing… (see: There I was, Just Sitting By The Pool…) In fact, we had only just recently met and the friendship we eventually developed hadn’t even officially been launched just yet. At this point he was one of those “pretty good acquaintance – semi almost friend” types. As he stood there nodding his head and adding an occasional “no sh*t?” to let me know he really was listening, it suddenly dawned on me.

I stopped mid sentence and stared at him, then started shaking my head. “You friggin’ bastard,” I said.

No longer able to contain himself he started laughing.

And, so began my psyche damaging, sometimes very odd, but lasting and incredibly true friendship with Sergeant Scott Ruddle and his wife.

Now you know why I’m just a bit addled in the head…

And, yeah… Now he’s a cop. Like I’ve said before, welcome to my world…

More to come…

Murv