Reductio ad absurdum of the Optimist Club and the B52

~5000 words

"Optimists, in the echo of Slim Pickens and the roar of the Seventh Bombardment Group, no longer seemed only fools who, when they looked to the skies saw not war, but liberty. Such evident confusion could be allowed no quarter, I decided from the throne of my barbershop chair. Optimists were none other than the enemy."

v

Short fiction, ~2000 words

"He waved his hand a bit. He turned his feet from side to side. His heart beat only very slowly. The air sounded as if it were burning. He could continue to wave his hand and turn his feet, feel his organs rise inside his chest, look at the little airplane His heart now beat so slowly. He had forever to fall. He could rest. He thought then maybe he was another man. "

v

Essay, ~5000 words

"The serial number stamped on the knoxform was from a year when trenches and rifles had already proved themselves stronger than horsemen from the Chancellorsville to the Crimea. The folly of its perceived necessity would continue well into the First World War. Used in ambush, this arm would have discharged so much smoke that any ambusher's firing position would have been immediately compromised. Employed in a siege the same smoke would obscure the commanding officer's view of the enemy works and so he would not know when or here to direct the point of his assault, unless he ordered an advance with unloaded weapons (not an uncommon practice in the American Civil War)."

v

Notes on escaping into French, ~5200 words

FISTON /feesten/
"Boy," but slangish. Something like "lad". Had read it somewhere. In whose room C. and I stayed at La Rochelle. At the end of the corridor. La chambre du fiston. Boyish smell. Rocket ships on the sheets, Tintin and a stamp collection on the shelves.

q