Alien1
by ipam
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Pamela Joan Barlow
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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CHARACTERS
PEOPLE of EARTH
Gigi Flaubert, Translator, Tele astronaut of Telepathy, Telekinesis
Jim Harris, Pilot of Tele mission
Juan Cervantes, Co-pilot of Tele mission
Kenya Tanzania, Preacher, Tele astronaut of Telekinesis
Lulu Smith, Cook, Tele astronaut of Teleclairvoyance, Telepathy, Telekinesis
Maritza, Mistress Overseer of Starbuck Plantation, Hunts-Bama
Ming, Master Overseer of Starbuck Plantation, Hunts-Bama
Mohammed Saudi, Physician, Tele astronaut of Telemetabolics, Telekinesis
Natasha Karsarina, Hunter, Tele astronaut of Telekinesis
Peter Martin, Administrator, Tele astronaut of Telepathy, Telekinesis
Starra Starbuck, Farmer, Telepathy, Telekinesis, Teleclairvoyance, Telemetabolics
Day 6,427, Milky Way Galaxy, Earth, Starbuck Plantation, house, purple sky, green clouds, green sun, 99*F, morning.
“Another gray hair,” I mutter, softly at mirror. I sigh with frustration.
I tuck, quickly loose strand behind left ear, donning white cap, covering, cleverly new growth as I hear noise. The silver sphere sensory thrusters tracks, accurately anyone in the house. I neck snap to wall for beeping sound. The floating communications globe darts, completely around the corner blinking red lights.
I order, loudly. “Open.”
“Starra, now, come, come…now,” male voice shouts as top panel guides, smoothly open, upwardly & emits colored hologram older man with dark skin, silver & black hair.
“I’m coming,” activating panel shut and lock with my hand, magically & end transmission.
I prance, gracefully to door, barking orders at hovering globe, “Security, on.”
The computerized satellite system clicks “ready” position, indicating yellow represents sky and field surveillance system locks, securely for estate house.
I march, forwardly to transport & stop, suddenly. I lift freckled face to bright yellow sunlight beaming from changing funky colored sky line created by swirls of radiated poison above pretty head.
I close my gray eyes.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Relax.
Calm.
Concentrate.
Focus.
I breathe, deeply filling strong lungs with fresh humid oxygen and release used air, relaxing petite body, letting worries and cares disappear. The little voice inside my pretty head echoes. Everything is fine.
I remembered my grandmother referring to her little voice as her conscience, her gut feeling or her intuition. I hadn’t come to any conclusion about my inner voice in my pretty head. I believed facts dictated actions, not some silly words ringing in my ears. This technique was one of her most important lessons for remaining calm and rational in any critical or tight situation. It seemed to work for Grandma Starbuck.
I practice morning, afternoon & night, especially during a crisis allowing my little to control my jumble emotions. I giggle, lightly recalling with amusement as a young girl watching Grandma Starbuck shut her violet eyes for a few moments, then smile and quote, “Everything is fine.” I sigh with confidence.
Cows had been birthing calves since the dawn of time without human interference.
The unborn baby is going to be healthy. I could visual, mentally black pregnant cow trapped in the twisted barbed wire as the overseer supported her black silky head, calmly soothing her mental distress.
I shake, accidentally hair in eyeballs & purge, swiftly the bright vivid image of cow and calf.
I jump, quickly on solar bike & activate console screen. The satellite communication program reflects color-coded dots overlaying viewing area of 3,178 acres of land. Green, red, yellow, blue and orange specks designate cows, horses, people, dogs & wild animals. I type command word into computer console.
The area enlarges pinpointing pregnant cow with red emergency communications globe homing beacon. Punching automatic button for shortest path through northwest corner of dome, I cringe reading the computer’s pre-calculated navigational course. I sigh with sadness.
I re-program guiding system traversing longest route to Ming, the plantation overseer. The computer track flies over Starbuck grave site towards final destination.
Grandma Starbuck had been dead for 3 years, 5 months, 22 days, 8 hours, 6 minutes & 14 seconds. I wasn’t counting the days but I was very good at math. Numbers added quickly in my pretty head. I sigh with loneliness.
I feel, deeply heartache flying over the family cemetery.
My parents were killed in an accident while flying the solar car to the only hospital located in North Bama farm community at the Hunts-Bama biosphere. My mother was declared brain dead at the accident scene. Her limp body kept alive on a mechanical respiratory ventilator while the farm’s veterinarian performed a cesarean, delivering me.
At that moment in history, Grandma Starbuck become, instantly mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, nephew, niece, first, second and third cousins, all rolled into one, my only living blood relative. I sigh with contentment.
I lean, comfortably into cushioned head rest & fix speedometer 22 miles per hour. The seat holds single rider with dual handle bars. Computerized guiding console displays speed, distance & emergency activation switch. The thrusters ensure smooth ride.
The animal’s location in northwestern part of plantation is near the 3,178 acre land mark, four square miles of traveling. I do not allow machines flying more than 22 miles per hour around the farm ecosphere for fear of destruction to the crops, or startling the livestock into the farm dome’s solar protective shielding.
I love my plantation & appreciate, beautifully the combination of technology and nature. Running a farm doesn’t leave time for daydreaming, but I will enjoy warm beams of yellow sunlight reflecting off the crystal clear dome roof. I still marvel at the technological creation of the biospheres for human and animal life forms surviving radiation and poison on Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy.
Earth history of biospheres, or domes came into existence around the year 2018. I remembered reading how Earthlings continued spraying carbon dioxides, poisons and toxins into the air currents, drifting up into the planet’s stratosphere. This process melted away the delicate ozone layer second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day and year by year until the first actual sign of a deteriorating atmosphere occurred.
The country Australia became the first victim of planet Earth’s global warming. The land blazed into a red fiery inferno, a deadly wave of red and yellow fire traveling with the wind currents over green wooded mountains and into sandy brown fertile valleys, destroying everything in its flaming path including people, livestock, wild animals, plant vegetation, crop soil, huge mountains and populated cities.
I instruct, mildly, “Slow, five miles per hour.”
Thunderfoot, my black gleaming stallion is leading the herd of mares 207 yards ahead in my path, around the hilly green pasture, showing off his harem to the other horses.
I giggle, lightly. “What a personality?” I shake hair in eyeballs, scratch hair from pretty face & then order, commandingly. “Reset prefixed speed.”
I read in historical textbooks land masses in the white South Polar regions burned into gray ashes from down pours of radiated red and yellow raindrops during the ozone layer collapse in 2018. The North Polar regions of delicate white caps froze into chunks of brown ice from the lack of a yellow sun light and heat. The planet of Earth had shrunk by 43 percent in 6 months, 18 days, 20 hours, 41 minutes & 2 seconds.
The remaining surviving countries and regions on the planet of Earth formed new government alliances with each other, desperately trying to save humans, animals and vegetation. The “old” United States of America government evolved into the “new” United North American Government, which excluded the country of Canada, located in the northern part of the North American continent.
After 2018, Canada was a gigantic chuck of floating brown frozen ice. People, who ignored the government’s warning signs of danger, froze to death in their Canadian homes instead of migrating to a warmer climate in one of the cities located in the southern areas of the former United States of America.
The best and the brightest men and women in the science community were commissioned by the newly formed United Earth Government to construct and enclose humans, animals, plants, vegetation, and other minor species into clear solar enhanced sun absorbing super structures called biospheres, or domes. The superstructures were categorized into three divisions. One division represented the restricted military base biospheres. The second division was privately owned farm ecospheres. The last division consisted of biospheres for residential housing for the rest of the alive and breathing population on the planet of Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy.
The military base biospheres were strategically placed for protection of the residential domes into four different regions, North, South, East and West, within the United North American continent. The bases controlled by the United North American Government are restricted, guarded and top secret containing highly trained and mean personnel, solar equipment, solar vehicles and solar weapons.
I, personally, had never seen one up close and personal, only viewed the military people yelling on the communications globe during televised official news broadcast session.
It is illegal to see the geographical site of all military bases on Earth. The secret doesn’t bother me. Farmers ain’t high top secret priority subjects for the United North American Government. I sigh with relief.
An ecosphere is a farm with livestock, plants, wild life, and the most important commodity, crops for food. The half spherical roof of a dome is clear & invisible, mostly to the human eye. My home, Starbuck Plantation, is called a farm ecosphere. The ranch and homestead was officially and technically named “Farm-North Bama” by the United North American Government.
A farm dome harvests crops and raises livestock. The products ships to one designated distribution market within a geographical region within a geographical city and state. Each farm is strategically placed within a state, one in each direction, North, South, East and West. The ecosphere is self-sustaining with meat, diary, chickens and vegetables. Crops and livestock grow 365 days, 24 hours, 60 minutes & 60 seconds a year.
Within the United North American Government, ecospheres, biospheres and domes are labeled by using the formal United States of America “city” and associated United States of America “state.” Hunts-Bama is the closest city-state biosphere to my farm, Starbuck Plantation. A superstructure houses & employs people, who research scientific technological methods to reinforce and improve the clear half onion shaped glass material of a dome. Each residential biosphere contains living sections for houses, churches, schools, hospitals, merchandise plazas and entertainment bazaars.
Sophisticated satellite systems monitor the man-made superstructures, every second and minute within 24 hours, 7 days per week for cracks, leaks and disruptions from ultraviolet radiation to acid rain drainage into the delicate biosphere of life. One tiny crack in the dome causes, permanently ultimate disaster & death to humans, animals and plants.
Since stratosphere collapse of 2018, sun light intensity had increased by 35 percent. On average, Earth had gained 9 minutes & 28 seconds of extra sun light and heat every year. The percentage increased to 48, last year in 2065, straining the dome’s man-made structure along with the limited, very limited natural resources on the planet. When the ozone layer opened, widely bright yellow sunshine made the day hot, long and intense even through the clear special plated super glass dome structure.
The extra rays were dangerous to the inhabitants. But sunlight proved to be a benefit for mankind, creating the development of solar sun powered machines, vehicles and homes. In turn, a new natural resource needed to survive on their homemade environment of toxins and poisons on Earth.
Currently, solar sun houses are equipped with mechanical engines to capture exposed heat and sunlight, converting the heat into energy. This energy is “solar sun power” running water supply system, air conditioning, computers, kitchen appliances, communication globes and other minor systems for households.
I live & work solar power equipment making my life efficient and effective for growing healthy crops and animals. I don’t know of any other way of living and surviving on Starbuck Plantation. Ming and his older clan members enjoy, happily teasing young kids with tall tales of the “old” Earth ways before solar state-of-the-art equipment and super glass domes.
I enjoyed hearing the stories about the “old” farm plantation from the year 1865. The historical period detailed when the United States of America fought in the great Civil War between the North and South regions of the continent North American. Great, great, great, great grandfather Starbuck emigrated from the foreign country of England. He purchased land from the United States of American government and started planting crop seeds.
Two hundred years later, Starbuck Plantation produces, successfully cotton, corn, potatoes, soybeans and wheat from the fertile red clay soil. Fresh water ponds stock catfish, bass and trout. Dairy cows supply milk for butter and cheese. Additional farm livestock include pigs, horses, dogs and cats while outlaying forest shelters assortment of wild life, birds, small rodents, coyotes and deer.
I inherited the ranch from my grandmother, whom I called Grandma Starbuck. Grandma was 5 feet, 7 inches with curly black short hair, violet eyes, weighed 169 pounds, 3 ounces. She displayed a strong jaw line on her hearted shaped weathered tanned face and a strong personality within her keen mind and loving heart for her home and me.
Grandma Starbuck married young at 23 years, 7 months, 24 days, 9 hours & 36 seconds. She gave birth to a son named Adam at the age of 24 years, 9 months, 18 days, 4 hours, 19 minutes & 31 seconds.
Life wasn’t so kind to my grandmother and her beloved, wonderful husband, John, father of little Adam. John died 3 months, 12 days, 8 minutes & 32 seconds after their son was born.
I discovered the historical information by snooping around old family files and records. It was a farming accident, one of the hovering solar equipment plows dropped on his body, crashing my biological grandfather instantly. Grandma Starbuck didn’t talk about the incident to me or anyone else. But my friend, Maritza, did. Maritza told me that Grandma was very upset, shocked and depressed. So depressed and distressed to the point, she changed her last name back to her maiden name, Starbuck along with ordering all legal and financial documents listing her maiden name in titles, deeds, books, letters, certificates, papers and word-of-mouth.
This was the reason I called her name “Grandma Starbuck,” not “Grandma something else.” Miss Starbuck modified my father’s last name as Starbuck, also. Therefore, my last name was still carrying on the Starbuck title. Strange but true!
I thought, mentally her decision very sad and unique for a widow. To this day, I don’t know her true “married” name. Not one person on Starbuck Plantation is allowed to speak her married last name.
So, I stop asking, inquiring and researching for the name reference. I don’t like visiting the grave sites. Who does?
I found her husband and my grandfather’s tombstone. The gray stone was etched with John, only reference to my grandfather, his first name. I sigh with disappointment.
I learned Grandma Starbuck was a strong, determined and independent woman who controlled everything on Starbuck Plantation. She ruled the estate house and plantation land only with her newborn son, Adam and her long time friend and plantation overseer, Ming.
Adam Starbuck, my father, married my mother, Betty. They seemed happy and content in the start of their new life on Starbuck Plantation. My father tested and passed the required ecosphere exams. He was awarded the title, Ecosphere Administrator for the 3,178 acres of pasture and farm land under a clear bubbled enclosed ecosphere farm named Starbuck Plantation. Then, fate intervened again, my father died, instantly in the solar car accident flying to the medical facility while my mom survived long enough for me, Starra Starbuck, to be born into this world, healthy and happy delivered by the plantation’s veterinarian.
I’m Starra Starbuck, the official United North American Government Ecosphere Administrator for my farm, Starbuck Plantation located in the Hunts-Bama district of the one time area known as the state of Alabama in the United States of American on the North America continent. I’m 5 feet, 1 inch tall, or as some folks say short. I weigh 95 pounds, 1 ounce. I possess waist length black wavy hair, sprinkled with strands of dull gray. I have a triangle face with small gray eyes, small pointy nose, high cheekbones and small mouth with a cliff chin and golden skin tone decorated with dark tan freckles.
I giggle, lightly. “My jumbled history lesson was over for today,” as bike halts pre-programmed destination.
Ironically, the visual scene at the pasture fence post is, exactly my day dream. I am a Tele, predicting future events, mysteriously and misty. I giggle, lightly. I sigh with surprise.
The cow is black. Her expanded girth is trapped among the second and third twisting rows of silver barbed wire along the fence post. Someone cut the wire for the animal. She flips, slowly flat to ground, laboring, heavily. Twelve in afternoon among bright yellow sunrays, she delivers healthy baby calf. The mama cow crawls out of the fence & stands by hungry calf, mooing, loudly affection to newborn. I sigh with delight.
“Life is amazing,” Ming responds, earthly.
I quote, simply. “Everything is fine.”
I watch, patiently as farm hands whisper, tenderly soft comments to each other, not making any sudden noises or fast movements for fear of startling the mother cow into running away. We wait, lovingly for mother and babe to leave before making repairs on the broken fence post. I sigh with happiness.
dirt road, golden sky, pink clouds, red sun, 120*F, afternoon.
I inspect stinky chicken coops, horse stalls and animal clinics on northwest side of farm with occasional social chat with humans for rest of afternoon.
Everyone has a task to perform at the ecosphere, contributing to their welfare and protection of the man-made dome. The Starbuck estate provides houses for single or married mature adult(s) with or without children and newlyweds, solar bikes and affectionate pets. The Starbuck homes, systematically & directionally, are built North, South, East and West providing security, protection and care for all the animals and maturing crops. Animals number 2,199 heads of cattle, 334 horses, 18 dogs and 13 cats with an assortment of wildlife living in the green woods and sparking clear water streams.
Ming and his wife, Maritza, require all farm youths to be tested at the age of four for intelligence, aptitude, aptness and attitude, determining the suitable farm position appropriate for his or her personality. The ranch positions vary from planters, drivers, mechanics, teachers, veterinarians, computer programmers, babysitters to housekeepers. Each family is paid money and food for their talents. The Earth word “work” is not used.
Children, three years old, attend plantation school learning to read, write, language skills, math problems and science experiments. Five years old, kids have fun and easy jobs, responsible for petting and grooming the young innocent baby kittens and puppies born on the farm.
Starbuck Plantation holds government issued license for field cultivation and animal breeding. In additional, the farm is allowed to raise kittens and puppies, selling them to prospective clients who live and work in the local residential biospheres as home pets.
As more and more geographical continents and foreign countries perished under the atmosphere’s ozone deterioration, people fled from their home to strange cities and rural towns seeking shelter, foraging for food, and leaving behind household pets to suffer starvation and die, cruelly. Under the new United Earth Government laws, selected ecospheres were empowered to control & monitor special licenses for breeding dogs and cats.
The total number of these beautiful domesticated pets on Earth is limited.
Each baby animal is recorded in satellite computer databases each month at the farm. A cat or dog application requires certification from the government before an individual can own a pet. There’s shortage of food for existing alive and breathing 8,612,387 people on Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy in 2065, much less feeding and housing loose stray and hungry dogs and cats.
The cat specialties at Starbuck Plantation are Persian and Siamese breeds. The fluffy, long haired, round-eyed Persian kittens are beautiful. They are very even tempered and meek. Siamese kittens are long legged, short hair and very vocal. The cats are perfect pets for kids, young teenagers & old adults.
I am required to sell at least two kittens or puppies to keep my United Earth government license. I always feel sad when the baby animal leaving for a new home. German shepherds and golden retrievers are the only puppy breeds at my farm. These canines make the best ranch dog for rounding up cattle herds and finding lost calves in the middle of thousands of acres of crop fields, woods and forests.
Life isn’t always work on Starbuck Plantation. There is fun and enjoyment, also.
On Saturday morning, Ming flies agricultural employees to Hunts-Bama biosphere. Crops are delivered to the distribution center and livestock to the slaughter house via the solar train. The solar sun raises four in the morning & sets ten in the evening, the early sunrise and sunset provides 20 hours, 7 minutes & 32 seconds of additional of heat and light.
Around 2019, smart scientific engineers designed and perfected the concept of solar cars traveling in wind channels, or tunnels. The technology expanded to solar buses and solar trains, containing multiple compartments for human and non-human passengers.
The ecosphere, biosphere and dome superstructures consisted of a substance called “super glass.” The super glass was a composite of silicon dioxide and sand, visually similar to regular glass with additional properties of translucent color for invisibility and very light weight for building high domes for all the people of Earth.
Super glass, in a solid form, endured, easily and survived, permanently the hostile radiated poisonous oxygen deprived environment on Earth when repelling the daily bombardment of high intensity ultraviolet rays from the galaxy sun. After each biosphere was successfully tested and built, transportation became the second problem in 2018.
Biospheres were located hundreds of miles apart within each city-state. The old style airports and airplanes were useful at first. As more layers of the stratosphere burned dropping acid rain and chucks of radiated outer space debris, the conventional mode of transportation was to dangerous for man and beast. A new carrier system was created and called wind tunnels, or channels.
Wind tunnels are constructed at a dome’s entry point. One biosphere has numerous entry ports represented by directional tunnels, North, South, East and West. Starbuck Plantation ecosphere wind channel travels one direction South to Hunts-Bama biosphere. The wind channels are hollow, wide and empty of debris. Solar vehicles can fly up to 525 miles per hour in the wind tunnels.
The wind tunnel theory was based on solar mechanic pumps that gather and store day time heat in massive power converters. The converters blew hot air through the channel in one directional mode to each dome as a bed of invisible air motion carries the solar vehicles. City-state domes were equipped with solar buses and solar trains for transporting people to and from jobs and shopping plazas. Traveling a wind tunnel was restricted to farm or military vehicles. Humans usually lived their entire life from birth to death in only one biosphere.
Servicing a farm ecosphere requires satellite security network system, solar hovering vehicles and numerous floating communication globes, expensive gifts from the United North American Government to me. This makes my job easy. I provide land, animals and personnel. I giggle, lightly.
The weekly farm duty ends Saturday with the delivery of the food and livestock goods at the city-state biosphere named Hunts-Bama. Then, the fun time begins. The farm personnel shop the merchandise plazas, visit the fun carnivals and play in the entertainment bazaars. One person stays behind. That’s me. I guard, soldierly the ecosphere for any unexpected emergencies. For the historical record, the number of emergencies is none.
Sunday is day of rest, as stated in the Bible for farm and people. Grandma Starbuck started this tradition. I continue it. In the early evening, I invite the Ming clan, including wife, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, and cousins with their spouses to the estate house for dinner and dancing. Ming’s children take turns preparing and cooking food on the open pitted fire grills, then after every man, woman and child eat, greatly helpings of steak, chicken, catfish, hamburgers, fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, fresh baked breads and desserts. The older folks talk old and ancient stories about the land and its people during suppertime.
I find life on Starbuck Plantation is pleasurable, predictable and plentiful.
I recall some of the financially wealthy organizations, after the 2018 ozone ruin, created individual homes for its members named “secular biospheres.” The communications globe broadcasts periodically news bits of footage showing children as young as three years old working in the fields, gathering food. Outrageous! This secular activity angers many citizens living in the biospheres.
However, the United Earth Government doesn’t halt the process. Along with the other government alliances, the United North American Government can barely provide jobs for people to buy food and cover all the financially expenses of each biosphere in existence. Therefore, the United North American government does not interfere with other isolated and independent secular biospheres housing people with food and shelter on the cruel world of Earth.
I do not approve of injustice either but this is the way of life surviving on the planet of Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy. I sigh with frustration.
“One more hill,” I whisper, softly.
The bike path shows best view of the Starbuck estate house. The house probably could be labeled “castle” like ancient days of Earth history. I giggle, lightly. With that, I could be labeled a “princess” in another life. I snort, nosily.
The Starbuck estate house holds 11 bedrooms, 13 bathrooms along with 2 kitchens, 3 living rooms, 4 dens & 6 garages.
The mansion grew bigger, wider and higher with each ruling Starbuck administrator. He or she added to the dynasty, displaying his or her wealth inside and outside the grand Starbuck castle.
Exterior mansion consists red and brown clay bricks, natural oak wood wrap-around porch, white concrete paved sidewalks, gleaming silver steel-plated door frames, white pine wood window panes and white clay roof tiles. The exterior shape is quadrangle. A giant rectangular shape of wings protrudes in geographic North, South, East and West directions.
Grandma partitioned the house in half with a separate kitchen and living area for herself and then allowed me the other part of the mansion. So cool, a teenager owned half of a mansion. She felt that I needed my privacy growing up on the farm. In reality, Grandma wanted to avoid all low, medium and large noises I created as a teenager.
After her funeral, I closed off Grandma’s area of the house and executed her last will as best I could. Grandma left some of her antiques to her closest friends, Ming’s family members. The other half of the junk was collecting dust under the white cotton sheets. I didn’t have the heart to discard any of her personal items, yet, maybe next year.
I mumble, softly. “Home,” shutting bike, noting front door unlocked as I turn knob.
A bright green color displays. Someone’s here. Maritza is fixing supper. I am 17 years, 7 months, 7 days, 7 hours, 7 minutes & 7 seconds old. I am capable of cooking, cleaning, taking care of me. I sigh in annoyance.
Throwing cap on table, jacket on floor, I leap, accurately onto bright red, blue and yellow floral sofa, propping dirty brown cowhide boots on clean, shiny mahogany table. I hear, loudly an echo bouncing off the peach walls.
“Missy, your grandma’s rolling over in her grave,” Maritza fusses, nosily & frowns, ugly.
Not! Grandma’s in heaven with her husband, John, her son, Adam and her daughter in law, Betty. I’m here, alone. I sigh with sadness.
“Messing up her expensive antique table with your dirty boots...” Maritza lectures, sternly. “Put them down at once,” grabbing right boot, dragging across the table, smearing red clay across the surface, and landing on hard wood floor. Thump. I smirk, evilly.
Maritza described the piece of junk accurately, high priced and old. I lived in a sealed, locked and protected ecosphere all of my life. It was fun at first playing with the kittens and puppies, racing on the wind bikes and jetting to the top of the glass dome during inspections for a couple of weeks.
Then, the fun became a routine, second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, month after month and year after year. The older a person got, the more dangerous farm life became.
Something could go wrong, seriously wrong. Everyone could die in a sun solar flash. But, I wasn’t going to let that happen on my plantation or in my lifetime. Because all farm personnel were trained and re-trained to handle such emergencies.
I noticed that Grandma Starbuck held the plantation together for many, many years without her beloved husband and with only an infant son. She lived and breathed Starbuck Plantation. Her only personal hobby was purchasing antiques from families all over the planet of Earth, shipping the items to her ecosphere, decorating her private suite.
Unlike the characters in the nursery tale, when Chicken Little yelled, “The sky is falling,” people of Earth responded differently.
They fled homes, cities, towns and states, carrying children, food and very few precious material valuables with them. The wealthier households were able to bring personal items of furniture and antique heirlooms.
After each independent superstructure biosphere opened, entry was free for every man, woman and child until the living units were fully occupied. Soon, greed became the “new” neighbor, while cash became “king” of the dome.
The wealthy citizens learned quickly to grease the hands of the biosphere officials with wads of money, free, unmarked and unaccounted for by the United Government auditors. Money brought not only one living unit but an apartment floor of units, rapid entrance into the medical facility and an ample supply of merchandise from personal solar cars to personal satellite computers except one precious item, food.
Food services were distributed and issued by the military personnel, who often shouldered on their bodies, live and loaded weapons consisting of hand pistols, long rifles and palmed stun batons. The military represented law and order, peace, justice and punishment in the city-state biospheres. The United Earth Government might be newly created but the officials were smart.
People were suffering with the loss of family members, their health, their property, their possessions, their home pets and their friends all over the world. Food was the only resource that could offer comfort and security for surviving this continuing crisis.
Existing farms immediately became possessions of the United Earth Government all over the planet of Earth. Construction of the protective ecospheres, covering thousands of acres of land, state-of-the-art farm solar equipment and farm workers became donations to the present farm owners for mass production of food operating 24 hours a day, 7days a week & 52 weeks a year for the starving Earthlings.
Starbuck Plantation was success, financially as a homestead for over a century. The Starbuck clan was rich with money, property and resources. The 2018 crisis helped escalate crops from nine months out of the year to twelve. More importantly, the farm provided essential food stuffs to the new and steadily growing city-state biospheres, housing people, plants, animals which equaled life.
Great-grandfather Starbuck felt sympathy for the citizens living in the crowded biospheres and conserved his own personal share of resources and money. During this period of history, traveling outside a dome wasn’t only dangerous but deadly to a human body if exposed to the twirling radiation ditches in the soil or if attacked from the sky pirates flying in the radiated blue skies of Earth.
Grandma was the first Starbuck baby born in the ecosphere, her sealed plastic bubble. She couldn’t open the door and step into the ‘real’ outside world of Earth without experiencing pain and suffering to her fragile human body. She watched eagerly on the communications globe how people worked inside the sealed bubbles to earn money to buy food and feed their kids. On the globe, people would advertise bartering their skills, or selling personal items for food or monies. Grandma was fascinated with some of the commodities she saw on the communications globe.
One day Grandma proposed to her father that he purchase some of the biosphere wares from the residents in exchange for food. Great-grandfather didn’t see the harm and being a very compassion man, though his daughter’s idea had merit and contributed to the lost cause, Earthlings. Grandma found her passion in life to help mankind and re-decorate her Starbuck estate room at the same time.
I grin, fully on freckled face thinking about Grandma’s dream and all her old furniture neatly stored in the West wing of the estate house. Her passion flows into every room, corner, nook and cranny of Starbuck mansion. Wool rugs in arrange of bold colors of black, red and green from the United Asia Government cover hard wood floors. Tables of destroyed trees called maple, oak, birch and cherry with breakable tiny glass ornaments on top of the shelves from the United Europe dome line the hallways and middle of hard wood floors.
There are rocking chairs, sitting chairs, sofas, bed frames, chests, armoires, dressers and bureaus possessing funny carvings of animals and geometric figures engraved on the wooden legs, arms and seat backs of the furnishings from the United South American biosphere. Maritza calls the furniture “classical” antiques. I call it “junk.” I got to get rid of it before next year, making a mental note.
“I’m done. The house’s nice and tidy.” Maritza blasts, loudly breaking day dream of my grandmother.
She gives me that look, do it again, or else.
I respect Maritza, as a person, a monitor and appreciate, greatly as a friend since “that day.”
As Grandma Starbuck prepared me for my lifetime role as the new administrator of Starbuck Plantation, my first task was to learn the mainframe programming languages which controlled the vitality important life functions on the farm land inside the glass ecosphere. Without suspecting it, Maritza watched and recorded me and my reoccurring computer mistakes that I continued, accidentally repeating.
Maritza was the housekeeper at Starbuck Plantation by trade and performed the task very well and very efficiently. Her real underlying motive was to secretly assist me in my satellite training as she did Grandma Starbuck when she was a teenager.
The primary duty for the ecosphere administrator was learning and maintaining the satellite computer communication network and life support system. I was the primary computer programmer and handle all satellite data, software upgrades, application updates and computer repairs. The numerous software applications controlled oxygen, sunlight, water supply, rain and defense mechanics from outside threats of electrical thunder storms and falling outer space atmospheric debris, and last, basically the lives of every person, plant and animal on my home, my farm, Starbuck Plantation on the planet of Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy. I sigh with responsibility.
I was nervous when the plantation housekeeper kept appearing, mysteriously to clean the bathroom in the operations computer room or to tidy up the computer shelves every time my satellite lessons began with Grandma. Maritza was always looming around like a shadow, hidden in some dark corner of the room stalking me. I sigh with annoyance.
I loved being a teenager. I was successful in my academic studies, a skilled horse woman and exceeded Grandma’s expectation for learning the complicated satellite programs. In return, these earlier accomplishments made me appear as independent, reliable, dependable, caring, honest, hard working but added touch of arrogance and over confidence. Maritza described, insultingly the latter part. I sigh with independence.
When I was 13 years, 13 days, 13 hours, 13 minutes & 13 seconds old, I was given total responsibility to set, load and execute the life support applications for Starbuck Plantation. It was a typical day on the farm, harvesting crops, feeding livestock and school for the children. When the farm chores ended, supper was served. Then, people retired for the evening.
After supper, I scheduled the sunset satellite software which consisted of multiple applications to execute a rain pattern, watering the crops and streams, converting the day light dome to night time status and shutting down non-essential machines and robots for the evening. I re-booted the solar equipment at sunrise for the next morning duties on Starbuck Plantation. The ecosphere internal environmental controls stimulated varying degrees of shade from bright morning yellow light to midnight black darkness for the comfort of the animals and people.
Every person, animal and plant needed to rest, sleep and re-generate. Rain was programmed in the form of overhead sprinkler showers and underground tunnels of water moistening the crops at the root level below the soil and replenishing the clean, sweet tasting underground reservoirs which feed the ponds, lakes, barn troths and house water wells.
During my tutelage, computer programming was taught as a group of logical commands instructed in a step by step process of routines and subroutines. The first routine started the procedure with the command with the word, BEGIN and completed the sequence with the command with the word, END, indicating the computer program finished and performed with zero errors.
The satellite procedures were lengthy and long. I’d sat for 3 hours, 3 minutes & 3 seconds watching the terminal repeat the same pattern, blink, blink again, and then executed the next command. Then, blink, blink again, and execute another command, it repeated this procedure until the program finished processing. Boring!
I came up with a brilliant conclusion. I modified the life support applications to run faster, eliminating the need for baby sitting each subroutine stage and display a confirmation flag. This began the second logical step and then, the third logical step and then, repeating. I created programs to merge the applications together, running them sequentially in ten logical rapid steps. In theory, when the evening file finished, a design appeared in a pretty pattern of bright blue and dark green colors displaying the word in green letters, COMPLETE. My logic was flawless. My programs brilliantly coded and executed during the testing stage. I sighed with self-importance.
Unfortunately, I forgot one small, significant detail. All computer programs carried and executed backup commands, just in case of accidental app failure. Then all functioning computer systems shut off, automatically. Why? Because, app failure constituted, deadly an emergency situation for farm, animals & people at Starbuck Plantation.
I punched up the console menu initiating my new computer program. I heard the mechanical circuits whining and twirling in the black 4 feet high & 2 feet wide metal box, housing the computer’s central processing unit, or brain, accessing my new files. I smiled, fully tilting back in the red padded chair, placing my long arms behind my pretty head for a short nap. My work was done. A bright yellow box appeared on the console screen showing the word in black letters, BEGIN. I sighed with confidence.
I monitored, carefully my brilliant computer work. Ten seconds later, a red box overlaid the screen displaying the letters in red color, ABORT.
I gasped, nosily & shot out of the comfortable red padded chair like lighting, with my palms outstretched on the maple wood work station, eyeing the computer console screen, studiously.
My mind was frozen in time. What had happened? Why was the CPU shutting down? What was wrong? Time seemed like hours to me while I studied the red blinking screen, my fragile little mind, analyzing the problem. I sighed with worry.
I was still assessing the problem in my mind. Suddenly, a blur of glossy black hair and brown arms pushed me aside the mainframe computer console. Tanned, long fingers were rapidly typing untranslatable symbols into the highlighted red box. The flashing word stopped, and then was replaced in big green letters, READY.
I stared at Maritza. My nerve endings were tingling with raw emotions ranging from upset, embarrassed, relieved, betrayed and finally to mad. I didn’t know what to do.
“Thank you,” stumbled, finally out of my tight mouth.
Maritza displayed a toothy pearl white smile with the hidden message Grandma Starbuck used to quote to everyone, “everything is fine.”
During the night, Maritza and I re-wrote the codes and replaced my aborted programs with new and improved software applications. It was a very happy ending because Maritza saved my farm ecosphere. We agreed not to tell Grandma Starbuck. I learned a very valuable lesson for me, never to be forgotten that night. And I discovered a new friend, forever. I smiled, fully.
I couldn’t keep the lie from Grandma. She trusted and depended on me to take over and run Starbuck Plantation after she had left Earth and traveled to the great beyond.
Grandma Starbuck wasn’t mad after I explained why I re-programmed the sunset routines and the deadly consequences of what might have happened if Maritza had not intervened.
She roared a deep, loud laugh and grinned, wickedly. “That old bat! Did Maritza tell you how she saved my fanny a time or two?” I shook hair in my gray eyes, pondering both their deep dark secrets.
house, red sky, blue clouds, pink sun, 92*F, evening.
The blinking sphere rushes like a blaring fire, beeping with loud annoying tones of piercing sirens.
“Another emergency,” I cry out, loudly. The light blinks yellow for audio/visual message.
Communications globe science was remarkably advanced on Earth. The eight diameter floating silver ball carried the world of communication at your fingertips. The globe was composed of the former equipment types of landline telephone, cell phone, television, radio, telegraph, stereo, facsimile machine, desktop, laptops & scanner rolled into one compact unit. A person could talk to anyone on the other side of Earth and relay audio, visual and numeric data by pressing a button.
The sphere could maneuver around trees, plants, houses, barns and animals without damage to the outer shell. The steel plating remained covered at all times. A colored light located around the belly of the sphere indicates the type of message being sent, red for emergency, green for voice message, or yellow for a visual hologram or data report. The roaming devise was activated by voice command and used external and internal sensory instruments and sonar devices to track the nearest human being based on heat temperature ranges in the biological body.
“Starra, I have crop and livestock numbers by category for the Hunts-Bama dome distribution center,” Ming reports, calmly. “Do you want it audio or visual?”
“Visual,” I instruct, loudly.
I jump, eagerly off floral sofa to computer terminal in kitchen, printing data report.
My last task review & adjust, permanently farm estimations. The United North American Hunts-Bama distribution center sends, electronically money payments every Monday before arrival of the goods to bank.
I thought, stupidly something could go wrong before the Saturday morning delivery deadline. There are always animal deaths and scorched crops that can’t be sold in the plazas, or consumed by man or beast. This is another good example of government waste.
As food resources and produce consumption rose in higher numbers for maintaining the current and newly built city-state biospheres, the independent people, who owned the ecosphere, became very rich, sometimes too rich. Plantation farmers sent charred produce, sick livestock and phantom goods to the distribution centers, because they were paid in advanced based on computer estimations. Farm owners complained they needed the advancement of funds to purchase field seedlings, food staples and competent personnel for an ecosphere to function a seven day work farm schedule. I sighed with disagreement.
The United North American Government biosphere officials finally got wise, wasting money didn’t harm anyone but withholding precious food was unsafe and dangerous. Occupants of the starving biospheres started riots and destroyed public and private property when food was not available. The United North American Government was forced to interfere with the privately owned farms.
Government laws were passed requiring farm owners to obtain government certificates to manage an ecosphere. Many of the plantation owners couldn’t pass the rigor government tests, composed of math, science and law questions. Therefore, the government appointed a certified administrator to manage the farm and supervise shipments to the starving city-state domes. The plan was very successful.
People got food. Farms produced better goods. Plantation owners got their money.
My great grandfather Starbuck didn’t cheat the city-state biospheres of vital food, or play the food system for additional government monies. He would underestimate his farm goods to protect his dome, his family and his reputation. Starbuck was a very wise man. He learned to operate every United North American Government computer, solar equipment and manual device on the plantation. My great-grandfather Starbuck passed the farm certification with 95 percent completion rate. Starbuck was named the Farm-North Bama Ecosphere Administrator, responsible for the day to day operations as well as preparing the United North American Government weekly reports to the distribution center located in the Hunts-Bama biosphere.
Grandma Starbuck was granted administrator title after her exams. I passed my tests with 90 points out of a possible total of 100, entitling me to manage the farm also.
“You were expected to pass because no other person can run our plantation but a Starbuck,” Grandma always reminded me, every second, every minute, every hour and every day of my life.
“Maritza,” I shout, hearing soprano voice echo into hallway. She’s gone. I sigh with relief.
Plopping onto the floral sofa, a second time, in dirty jeans, I sit, quietly enjoying cold beverage of red fruit juice and silently, welcomed peaceful evening. Maritza’s gone. The baby calf is eating dinner with its mom. The weekly estimates are transmitted, successfully.
Relax & let events of the day slip away. Life is wonderful on a farm. I can’t imagine being any place else. The plantation isn’t just a government ecosphere. This piece of Earth is my home, my job and my future. I sigh with contentment.
I am an ecosphere administrator, one of the youngest in United North America Government. I am rich, capable of purchasing more land to start a second farm dome.
My farm staff receives outstanding benefits and security as members of Starbuck Plantation. Ming and Maritza aren’t just employees. They are my family helping to educate and discipline me as a child and assisting me with guidance and advice as an adult.
I giggle, lightly. “I’m one lucky…Earthling.”
BEEP! BEEP! The communications globe’s indicator light flashes red for message.
“Now, what?” I shout, annoyingly at twirling silver in freckled face. “Open.”
“This is a message for the Ecosphere Administrator. You, your family members and the 142 listed dome workers are ordered to report for government testing, tomorrow, ten in the morning, at the Medical Facility Five in Hunts-Bama Biosphere. Testing for each individual requires 3 minutes and 12 seconds to complete. This is a mandatory test. No person is exempt. If you deny any person access to testing, you will be fined and imprisoned. This transmission ends.” The screen retracts into sphere.
“Testing?” scratching my pretty head with finger pads.
“News,” I orders, commandingly. Globe beams reporter wearing red jacket to wall.
“Earth is dying.” The reporter talks and then, pauses, dramatically. “This news dome has learned from reliable sources that the six remaining governments, United Europe, United Asia, United Africa, United Middle East, United South American and United North America have formed a new branch within the United Earth Government. The branch is designed for space missions, not to study intergalactic theories but to send a team of astronauts to another planet outside our galaxy. All citizens will be contacted by a city-state biosphere representative in 2 days, 4 hours, 18 minutes and 21 seconds about details of testing and implementing this strange and bold plan for mankind. I will repeat this statement again. Earth is dying. ”
“Off.” I talk, flatly. I sigh with puzzlement.
Day 6,428, solar train, pink sky, orange clouds, purple sun, green rain, 103*F, morning.
Double-checking the cruise setting and speed control panel in the solar train, Ming slips into the cockpit chair. “Cargo and crew are ready for takeoff, Captain,” he jokes, mildly, trying to lighten my bad mood.
I mumble, angrily. “I should be here, not bouncing around the city like a tourist.” I sigh with frustration.
Farm administrators understand protocol, especially government protocol. Protocols dictate Saturday travel day, not today. The farm employees deserve time off work. I respect that work concept.
The overseer arranges duty, sick and leave days for the plantation staff. Today is different. There will be no planting, harvesting, or clearing of fresh crops and minimal animal care performed by the medical robots.
Everyone is dressed in nice comfortable clothes for the 21 minutes & 34 second joy ride on the farm’s solar train. They shuffle one person at a time into the train’s compartment whispering and mumbling about this sudden wind tunnel trip to the Hunts-Bama biosphere. Ming, the head member of the family, calms their concerns by telling them time for the annual medical scan at the medical center. They’re traveling to the city for lunch and day of shopping, no farm duties today, against my better judgment. I sigh with disappointment.
Ming’s people are alike in appearance. Their ancestors are from the continent of Asia. They have small frames, olive skin tone set with glossy, black straight hair and beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes. Each person holds simple expression, no smiling but you see/feel emotions in their small brown eyes, such as happy, sad, glad and mad.
I thought as a child, the entire Ming clan was my relatives. I possessed long black hair, just like them. Of course, my eye color was gray, not brown. My skin tone was a gold color and tinted with freckles.
When I was ten years old, I finally realized I was different. I didn’t reference any member of the Ming’s clan as dad, brother, uncle, nephew, sister, aunt or niece. This was one clue. The second clue appeared in my hair, silver strands of locks shimmered in my waist length black wavy hair. Every day I received a new growth of silver. I was different alright. I sighed with surprise.
Flipping the internal communications switch, I state, calmly. “Control Tower, this is Farm-North Bama ecosphere. We are ready, set and go for a launch to Hunts-Bama. The final destination is Medical Facility Five.”
The Hunts-Bama biosphere controller responds, promptly. “Farm-North Bama ecosphere, you are good for go on my mark, three, two, one…and launch.”
I lean, comfortably padded seat, relaxing, smiling to my co-pilot. Sometimes, flying the solar vehicles at the top speed of 525 miles per hour coupled with the funny flight lingo, I feel like a star ship commander from one of the old time television movies shown on the communications globe for fun and entertainment. I sigh with excitement.
Solar trains were designed for fast and safe transportation, not luxury with an enclosed shell of silver steel plating for protection from flying wind tunnel rubbish and trash. A typical interior compartment housed 53 people who can relax in cushioned covered seats. The seats dropped to a reclining position for sleeping, or upright for viewing any hologram screen on the wall console.
Since no windows existed for sightseeing, the computer was programmed to display a movie, or repeating scenery in the attached traveling compartments for human and non-human occupants. In the livestock carriage, a repeating scene with audio sounds comprised tall green trees, blue birds, green grass and a silver sparking water stream shown over and over again to pass the travel time and calm the animals. Maritza selected colorful cartoon programs for the young children to watch, music entertainment programs for the teenagers and commodity shows for the young adults. In the older adult compartments, they spent the ride planning the clan’s agenda, which included the numerous shopping plazas and entertainment bazaars to visit during the day, afternoon and late evening.
A biosphere control tower employee monitored incoming and outgoing vehicles through the wind tunnels. The solar train was pre-programmed for each biosphere in which only the city-state dome’s controller can override the transportation command. The speed was set by the pilot of the flying vehicle between the ranges of 102 miles per hours to 525.
The controller scheduled each vehicle’s arrival and departure. Today, wind tunnels were safe and secure modes of transportation than in past. Early wind travel allowed the driver of the solar vehicles to select any dome path and any speed. Accidents and casualties occurred too frequently, prompting the creation of a main control tower at each city-state biosphere.
There were too many inexperienced drivers flying carelessly, causing wrecks in the wind tunnels, destroying property, vehicles and lives. My parents were victims in one of these accidents in the wind channel. The Hunts-Bama controller’s job was easy, today. He pressed a button sending the silver bullet into the city-state biosphere, the only vehicle traveling back and forth into Starbuck Plantation. As far back as I could remember no other transport had ever visited the farm.
Hunts-Bama biosphere, reception room, red sky, golden clouds, green sun, 106*F, morning.
“Welcome to Medical Facility Five, please exit to your right. You can follow the yellow line to the entrance of this building.” The automated communications globe chimes, mechanically greeting new visitors stepping off the train into the lobby of the medical center. The Starbuck Plantation staff’s on time, proceeding to the assigned wing of the hospital for testing.
“What’s this testing about?” Ming bugs, thrice.
“No clue! I was instructed... no, I was ordered to bring us here, or else,” I react, surly.
The medical technician is prompt & wears gray lab coat, extending her hand. “Hello, Administrator Starbuck, Alisa Stone. I’ll be conducting the tests on your staff members.” Points, rudely to room left side. “You and your party can stay here until the process is completed in 2 hours, 30 minutes and 10 seconds. Please enjoy our hospitality room.”
Stone calls first names of staff & leads down hallway, leaving me & farm employees. I sigh with puzzlement.
The enormous room holds 513 people, appearing as dance hall by design. The wall paint gray color, matching gray tile floor. The other color in drab room is, beautifully trimmed blue and yellow tables. First table holds platters of white and dark meats, assorted grain breads and steaming colored vegetables. Second table displays buckets of ice cold bottles of water, assorted drinks and milk for the children. Desserts range from dark creamy chocolate brownies to hot red cherry pies on last table. Picnic day for the farm personnel of Starbuck Plantation!
“I’m impressed,” Ming grins, fully & loads, heavily more food on plate.
“I’m not,” ignoring banquet, opting to sit by door, waiting for Miss Stone. I sigh with frustration.
Time passes quickly. The tester conducts the interview one family at a time with the wife, husband and children.
Each family unit experiences the same scenario. The technician escorts them to a small room. Miss Stone instructs no talking, sit quietly. Then, few minutes later, Miss Stone re-appears, mysteriously. Test over & leave the hospital.
Ming and Maritza had been gone 2 minutes & 8 seconds when Stone appeared in the door frame, smiling, fully. “Administrator, you’re the last candidate.”
“Last candidate,” I echo, shockingly & eye burn her face, seriously.
“You and your group can depart for home after your test is completed.” Stone ignore, purposefully.
“When can I review the results?” I demand, rudely.
“I’ll report my findings to my director. This is my job for the testing process. I can state that none of your personnel had any problems with the tests.” Stone shares, mysteriously.
“They passed? Passed what?” I bark, loudly.
“We’ve here. Please take a seat and wait for further instructions.” Stone smiles, fully & twists from me and door. I sigh with weary.
The room is cold and small, measuring 10 feet, 4 inches long by 8 feet, 2 inches wide. No windows. No paintings. The air conditioner vent blows cold chilly 52 degrees Fahrenheit.
I pull, tightly jacket over small shoulders, warming petite body, walking to single chair in empty room.
“Greetings,” invisible Stone voices, coolly.
I jump, suddenly & reposition, uprightly in chair. I snort, lightly.
“Please follow my instructions step by step. We will begin. I want you to breathe in and out,” invisible Stone orders, commandingly.
I inhale cold air, painfully inside chest cavity.
“I want you to breathe in and out, again,” invisible Stone repeats, secondly.
I ignore stupid request. I need warm yellow sun while working on my farm.
“Please try to relax the test will be over very soon,” invisible Stone informs, sweetly.
Hidden camera observes behavior & records verbal responses. I sigh with impatience.
I place, gracefully petite hands in lap like Southern lady as taught & instructed by Grandma for the cameras. I snigger, lightly.
“I’m going to read a short passage from a famous book. After I finish reading, I will ask you to repeat the passage to me.”
I croak, froggie-like. “Okay.”
The cold air is freezing vocal chords, or maybe I’m a little nervous. I wait, patiently.
“Relax. Over soonest,” mumbling under breath as air forming circled ringlets around pink painted lips.
I tilt, restfully body in chair, mediating like Grandma Starbuck. I do not classify this situation as crisis but I’m nervous and impatient, especially being treated as test laboratory rat.
I close my gray eyes.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Relax.
Calm.
Concentrate.
Focus.
“In the beginning God made the heavens and the Earth. God said ‘Let there be light.’ There was light. God saw the light was good,” invisible Stone talks, smoothly.
I open gray eyes staring at the empty wall. Words echo inside mind the passage from the Bible, the testament of Genesis, first chapter, first verse. I sigh with knowledge.
Invisible Stone talks, sternly. “Can you tell me the passage?”
“Yeah, the Bible. Can I leave? Is my test finished?” I spit, coldly.
“You heard me read the passage,” invisible Stone sounds, excitedly.
“Ya, I heard you read the passage. Can I leave, please?” I voice high soprano “A”.
“Please re-state the passage word by word,” invisible Stone orders, sternly.
Word by word is difficult. I recognize the quote from the Bible and the first sentence by memory from my Sunday school lessons on the plantation. The rest of the sentences will be paraphrased.
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