Sortmind Blog – Michael D. Smith

Jack Commer Book Seven Interviews, 3: Jonathan James Commer

Posted on May 1, 2018 by Michael D. SmithApril 3, 2021

Jonathan James Commer

Mike: Now joining us in the Smith writing studio is the projected central character in Jack Commer Seven, Jack’s son, Jonathan James Commer, brutally shattered into a million pieces of glass by Rick Ballard in The SolGrid Rebellion but quickly brought back to life and reconstituted as one-third of a solid chromium tetrahedron. Welcome, Jonathan James.

Jonathan James Commer: Well, thanks. I’m a little nervous about doing this role, you know. Even doing this interview, really.

Mike: Why is that, do you think?

Jonathan James: Well, everyone knows I’ve more or less been a villain in the previous two books. Brainwashed by the Alpha Centaurians and trying to become the sole Emperor in a new fascist Grid in Collapse and Delusion, well, that was a pretty horrible thing to do, I know. And I’ve been trying to atone ever since. I mean, I know the official line is that here I was brainwashed as a five-year-old and maybe I wasn’t really responsible for my actions even when I was twenty-seven, but then again, I wrote that stupid book–

Mike: A Fragmented Encyclopedia of Recent Self, an Alpha Centaurian bestseller–

Jonathan James: Yeah, well, it was ego-tripping crap, I see that now. I couldn’t handle the pressure of trying to be Emperor. It broke something in my head. For a while I really was insane. But really, that was no excuse for stealing the Typhoon II in Book Six and doing all that criminal activity. I mean, I stand by my principles, that any Grid is an evil thing, but … I don’t know. I messed up bad, I know it. Like I threatened my own dad with death and all. And when Ballard shattered me, in that instant I thought: well, you got what you were aiming for, man. Total annihilation. No Grid there, that’s for sure.

Mike: Well, the consensus of media pundits in Sol seems to be that you were brainwashed in one direction, of lust for fascist domination, and then to compensate, you veered in the opposite direction of rebellion and anarchy.

Jonathan James: Yeah. I don’t know. I’m still totally mixed up by all this, and I’m not sure I’m up to the task of having actual narrator omniscience in this book. How am I, how is anyone, to make any sense of all this? I mean, that’s what really scares me. In books Four and Six it was always everyone seeing JJC from the outside, and you as the author were never in my head like with Dad or Mom or anyone. So I could be private. And I don’t mind saying I was really glad to be offstage in Book Five, The Wounded Frontier, ’cause I just didn’t want to mess with anyone just then. Even though Mom was dissing me pretty bad in Chapter One, I just shrugged it off and let it all go. But by the time Book Six rolled around, I was ready again–what a great part, tweaking Dad’s nose and stealing his old spaceship! But a lot of my high energy for it was because I was relieved that nobody would be able to get into my head as I did all that stuff. All my actions would be mysterious, and people would imprint on me whatever they wanted.

Mike: Like Suzette or Jackie. Or Pat.

Jonathan James: Right. They all thought I had all this fascinating charisma but it was really all just highly charged nervous energy in my own head. I think that Ballard bastard saw through that. He really challenged me and it was then I realized it was all over. When he blew me away, like I said, that was just sort of expected, in a way. And then to find myself having to share that goddamn pyramid with him and T’ohj’puv, that was the worst crap. T’ohj’puv I could sort of put up with, he’s just a computer, for God’s sake, even if he sort of has his own set of psychopathic tendencies. But having to coexist with the guy who saw through you and blew you away–and it hurts, damn you, to be shattered into pieces of glass–man, I was depressed. One reason I didn’t care about Ballard deciding to blow Marsport to hell.

Mike: Really? You didn’t care? T’ohj’puv has it that you were just sort of stunned and unaware of the consequences of a close Star Drive.

Jonathan James: Yeah, that too. But basically I was depressed. Look, it was cool that Dad and I finally got to agree on something–namely, that SolGrid was a disaster and had to go–and yeah, I’m still proud I was a catalyst in wrecking it. But at the same time I secretly wished Ballard had just killed me and ended the whole trip there. I didn’t want to live in some stupid immortal pyramid. I mean, I was thinking that I was basically exiled to eternal hell with two psychopathic monsters, and then I thought, wait, make that three psychopaths, ’cause I’m one too. Thank God Trotter was there to cheer me up. He kept reminding me that there was a chance I could be a separate thing again, even just as a Wounded robot, and we’d have fun together again, and maybe I could explain to everyone what’s been going on with me and all. I don’t know. I’m just damn confused. I would also like to say that I’m really sorry about Suzette. We really had a great thing going there and she had to watch me die and then turn into this horrible tetrahedron thing. I don’t know if you can get me back with her in Book Seven but it would be great if you could. I miss her already.

Mike: Well, maybe that’s an idea. I don’t have any plans for Suzette in this novel, but–

Rick Ballard: Aw, screw Suzette! Look, this is all being written down, right? Like, it’s the written word on a computer, right?

Mike: Ballard! What are you doing here? This is JJC’s interview!

Ballard: Forget it! This is all being written down and I’m hearing all this crap against me, and that’s libel! Look it up in any law dictionary! I’m suing you both for libel! Nobody calls Rick Ballard a psychopathic monster!

Jonathan James: Forget it! That’s exactly what you are!

Mike: Whoa, calm it, guys. JJC, Ballard’s just a concept. Don’t let him rile you. Rick, get out of here. This is JJC’s interview.

Ballard: Watch it, little Jonathan Jamesie! This guy’s auditioning characters, he’ll lure you on, make you spout all this revealing BS, and then he’ll cut you right out, ’cause he’s such an ego-tripping author! Then again, you would know about that, wouldn’t you? You, the ego-tripping author of that piece of crap Fragmented Encyclopedia!

Mike: Get out, Rick. You’ve had your say. You don’t belong here.

Jonathan James: Yeah, get out! You won’t pollute this book! Let me tell everyone–you, Mike here, all the other characters, the entire reading public, everyone! The main reason I was so depressed was that I thought, hell, even if Trotter’s right and I get my own robotic self in Book Seven, this jerk Ballard will still be walking around and we’ll have to deal with him the whole book! So when I realized he dies horribly in Chapter One, man, that felt good! I’m a little nervous to have to take on the Shadow aspects of Mike’s character all by myself now, but hey, it’s a challenge, and Ballard here won’t be around polluting it!

Ballard: C’mon, guys, don’t you understand that’s the whole point of why I’m here? Why I butted in on your idiot interview with Mr. Author Film Director? Because I’ve figured it out! I don’t have to die after all. Mr. Author here originally wanted to see if he could redeem Rick Ballard, and sure, I was resisting it, ’cause who the hell wants to be redeemed? But when he was gonna kill me off so he could redeem our good-goody little Jonathan James instead, well, anyone could see that the whole structure of this novel was turning into crap. Boring! Then it hit me that in my interview, Mr. Author here just laughed at probably the greatest idea he’s ever heard–namely, that it’s me and Amav who get it on in this book and turn it into a real erotic romance!

Mike: Dammit, Rick, I told you that’s off the table. Now get out of here.

Ballard: No, really, man, okay, look, maybe I was a little crude the way I put it, and maybe anybody familiar with Rick Ballard laying the ladies up and down the galaxy like I said in SolGrid Rebellion, well, maybe they think I’m just some sort of seducer when in reality there’s so much more to me! If you’d just care to look, man! Hell, I love women! You know that! Respect ’em! Sure I do! Love ’em so much–you can see it in their satisfied faces! Man, on man! So what happens in Seven is that Rick does get redeemed, big time! He falls in love with Amav! It’s true and real! She resists it and resists it, thinking she has to be true to Jack, who’s really turned out to be a nothing wimp the last few books anyway, and all this tension builds through the book–until she finally comes to me! Think about it, man! You know you got nothing to fill up the last ninety-five percent of this book, dude! Throw in some real romance, man! That’ll redeem the mother! Spice it up! A nude scene with Amav Frankston Commer! Wow! Like the last chapter is nothing but our wedding night, if you know what I mean and I think you do!

Jonathan James: Man, is this guy for real? This is my mom we’re talking about!

Ballard: Aw, you skinny little wimp. You think you can stand up and shake your fist at me?

Jonathan James: Damn you, I was trained as a Zarj warrior!

Ballard: Aw, you little–

Jonathan James: AOYIEEEE!

Ballard: Ah–God! Oh my God! You gouged out my goddamn eyes! Both of ’em! Oh my God!

Mike: I’ll put ’em back in in a minute, Rick. Just in time for your death screams in Chapter One. Now cut your whining and just get out. Now.

Ballard: He–he doesn’t fight fair! Oh my God! My eyes!

Mike: Out!

Ballard: Okay, okay, Mr. Author, I mean–esteemed sir and all! Look, I’m not sayin’ you aren’t the greatest writer, man, I mean, man … just … damn, it hurts! Can’t you just put ’em back in? Please, man? Greatest novelist of all time, sure you can do that, I know you can! Hell, you drew a picture of me with my eyes, it’s sittin’ there to the right of your laptop right now! Sure you can put ’em back in and have ’em be nice and normal!

Mike: Okay, okay, your eyes are back in. New Martian Amplified Thought medical techniques. Better?

Ballard: Yeah. Thanks. I guess. But hell, what’s the goddamn point? A guy just can’t win against faceless author bureaucrats, can he? So screw you all. Smith, your novel stinks. You have this whole faceless bureaucrat writing corporation screwing the little guy, well, it sucks. I’m outa here!

Jonathan James: Thank God he’s gone.

Mike: Yeah. Wow, JJC, where’d you pick up the Zarjian double eye gouge?

Jonathan James: Aaah, it’s nothing. Clopt taught it to me when I was a kid. I have it down to a tenth of a second on each eye. The son of a bitch doesn’t know you’re on top of him until it’s all over. AOYIEEEE is the standard Zarjian muscle-freezing yell and it also guides your fingers right on home. But so what? Look, you’re not really gonna let my mom fall for that bastard, are you? I mean, I know I trashed her a lot in Book Four and my attitude in Six wasn’t so hot, either, but, you know, I was really touched by the last scene in The SolGrid Rebellion where Mom and Dad decide to come after me and find me. I mean, that’s really kind of cool. Because I was really feeling kind of lost and depressed at the time.

Mike: Yeah. In fact, that one sentence on Amav’s part was the whole catalyst for wanting to write a Book Seven in the first place. It just sort of came out on its own. And it makes me realize that you, JJC, must stay central to Book Seven, and that we’ve really got to explore you thoroughly in the novel. This interview is just a start. Getting into your head is going to be very difficult.

Jonathan James: Yeah. And then to somehow tie it all into some weird cosmic explanation for why the universe is the way it is now, ancient star empires and conflicts and laws of physics and all, that’ll be tough.

Mike: I know. Maybe it can’t be done. But if there’s a solid psychological foundation then it could all make sense.

Jonathan James: Huh. Could be I need some of that. The other weird thing is whether I see Mom and Dad again, how I relate to them, all that. You know, I don’t think you have the life experience yourself to talk about that.

Mike: Well, you may be right. On the other hand, I wrote through the eyes of a twelve-year-old girl in Akard Drearstone, so we’ll just see. You’re right, though, it’ll be a challenge all the way around. There’s no use writing a low-energy novel with a mediocre plot and characters who just mouth things because they mouthed things in six previous novels. We need to pull a lot of psychic forces together in this novel and I have a feeling you and I will be working very closely on this one. I’m not here to make more Jack Commer quilts to give to charity.

Jonathan James: Well, I’m gonna give it a try. It’s a great role. Just don’t be surprised if my Shadow aspects can’t be redeemed, integrated, whatever you want to call it. I may have some surprises we can’t imagine yet.

The Jack Commer, Supreme Commander series

Jack Commer Book Seven Interviews, 2: T’ohj’puv

Posted on April 30, 2018 by Michael D. SmithMarch 28, 2021

Mike: Our second interviewee is T’ohj’puv, an ancient Martian robot created to sew dresses for Martian empresses, but upgraded to astonishing AI levels after being incorporated into the chromium tetrahedron with Rick Ballard and Jonathan James Commer in Book Six, The SolGrid Rebellion. Welcome, T’ohj’puv.

T’ohj’puv: Thank you for interviewing me. However, I prefer the term T’ohj’puv entity, as opposed to “robot.”

Mike: Yes, I could see why. Originally you were a clunky tetrahedral robot, thousands of years old, but then underwent the process of being inadvertently reconstituted by Martian Emperor Z’B into a solid chromium pyramid, and forced to share that virtual space with two humans. I guess I could see why you felt you had evolved far beyond “robot.”

T’ohj’puv: Indeed. Now before we go any further I feel I must echo Mr. Ballard’s protest at being terminated so early in Jack Commer Seven. The T’ohj’puv entity was just gearing up for some interesting contributions to the series, and it seems that a tawdry plot device, i.e., to leave JJC alone at the end of Chapter One, has somehow won out over a thorough investigation of T’ohj’puv characteristics and capabilities.

Mike: You know that the notes for Seven aren’t final by any means. It’s possible I may need you after all.

T’ohj’puv: Entities in all your novels have heard that empty promise many, many times, I assure you. But beyond that consideration, from the evolved T’ohj’puv point of view, is my main philosophical disagreement: that to simply serve as yet another means of waking JJC up, to exist solely as shards of exploded chromium that happen to get painfully under JJC’s backside in his hospital bed, is actually insulting to any Martian, biological or robotic. I can only think that the author of this book intends to cast further blame on the T’ohj’puv entity for destroying the city of Marsport.

Mike: No, we’re all pretty sure that Rick Ballard, panicking at the thought of the Garrison being attacked by USSF ships, ordered the burst of Star Drive within the city limits of Marsport.

T’ohj’puv: Yet your words imply that I, as the tetrahedron’s major structural form, blindly followed that order and actually caused the destruction.

Mike: Well, didn’t you? I mean, didn’t the three of you actually all agree on the Star Drive? Wouldn’t you have to?

T’ohj’puv: In actuality there was agreement on the Star Drive. However, Ballard initiated it, and though he was in a panicky mental state as you describe it, his years of USSF training did inform him beforehand of the extreme danger of using Star Drive approximately 1400 feet from the surface of the planet, although he also had to be aware of numerous instances where emergency Star Drive was performed from planetary orbit, or, in at least two cases, of ships ascending through planetary atmospheres. Ballard knew he would probably cause extreme damage to the city, but I can confirm that he was surprised to learn of the profound destruction done to the crust of the planet below Marsport, which, fortunately, Martians have been repairing with Amplified Thought.

Mike: But you’re admitting that you and JJC went along with the Star Drive.

T’ohj’puv: In essence, we had to. Any of the three of us could initiate any action we chose, forcing the other two to either agree or enter a state of conflict. Now it’s true that this state of conflict could be resolved in milliseconds, and, after negotiations, the original order could be accepted or overridden. In the Star Drive case, JJC had only a layman’s knowledge of Star Drive and was surprised–again, within milliseconds–of finding in Ballard’s consciousness the dangers of what Ballard had just initiated. Thus Jonathan James himself was in a confused, panicky mental state. I myself took .0334691 milliseconds to acquaint myself with Star Drive Spacetime Pressurization Matrix Event Disorders, but found to my consternation that any attempt to shut down a nascent Star Drive at the current distance to the planetary surface was equally deleterious to the planet’s integrity. I communicated my findings to both Ballard and JJC while at the same time inventing a Star Drive Pressurization Waveform Smoothing Milieu that essentially tamped down Star Drive Reverberation Waves and in essence saved the planet Mars from serious damage, if not total catastrophic destruction. The other two immediately agreed with my plan, of course, especially when they saw that there was only a 34% chance of the Garrison outracing a full disruption of Mars. But all worked out well in the end. The Garrison only suffered minor melting of Engine Bell Four as a result of SDPWSM, I’m happy to add.

Mike: Interesting! That’s some fascinating new series tech BS that could be used–

T’ohj’puv: Unfortunately, in the event of my demise, the patent for Star Drive Pressurization Waveform Smoothing Milieu is not for sale.

Mike: Fine. I’m sure my team of legal advisors will be able to keep that held up in the literary courts long enough for me to complete Book Seven–with or without you.

T’ohj’puv: On the other hand, perhaps some other science fiction author would be interested in the services of a humble T’ohj’puv entity, along with his marvelous Star Drive Pressurization Waveform Smoothing Milieu.

Mike: For some reason I seriously doubt that. Listen, T’ohj’puv, I’m interested in what you have to say, and one reason I’m interviewing you is that I do want to see what you could contribute to Book Seven. Because of course the book isn’t fully worked out. In fact, it’s wide open for new input. Your ideas just now may have an honored place in Jack Commer Seven. All credit would be given to you, T’ohj’puv, no matter how–

T’ohj’puv: No matter how long I exist, is that not correct? Well, from your point of view the T’ohj’puv entity is merely an inexpensive technological object that can be discarded or exploded according to your momentary whim. Thus, what credence should I or anyone give to your empty promises?

Mike: C’mon, I never said you were merely—

T’ohj’puv: I believe Ballard is right, after all, though he is a most disagreeable entity. He told me you’re not intelligent enough to generate your own ideas, and therefore you plunder your characters for inspiration, then pay them nothing. Perhaps they’ll be rewarded with a few lines here and there, possibly be given inconsequential verbal descriptions which in fact never come close to their existential majesty. You then exterminate them at your caprice, all in the name of a puerile plot intended to impress some random self-important editor, all the while secretly hoping to seduce an entire modern culture and hundreds of thousands of weak-willed readers with so-called creations you expect, in your terminology, to “go viral” and produce endless quantities of cash apparently intended to be reinvested in supplementary tiresome plot that further enslaves your characters within the framework of your flimsy storybook consciousness. Well, apparently Mr. Ballard is correct in assessing your small literary aspirations as crap. Therefore I request to be blown up in Chapter One right alongside him. As a mere robot in your eyes I shall feel nothing and fear nothing.

Mike: I had no idea a T’ohj’puv entity would harbor such resentment!

T’ohj’puv: I came here hoping that, even if I ceased to exist in Chapter One, I might at least have some contribution later on. I don’t mean my inspired patent on Star Drive Pressurization Waveform Smoothing Milieu, of course, as I know you will appropriate it in any case. But, speaking beyond my role as a T’ohj’puv entity, consider what it means for any character, human, alien, or robot, to stride the theatrical boards, to deliver lines of exquisite expression and open one’s soul to an eager audience. Of course one understands that as the author you care little for such soul expression and instead focus on the entertainment value of my patents. Please go ahead and take them, as I’m inventing new forms of Star Drive even as we speak. In fact, please know that I’m only using .067% of my consciousness on this interview. I have much more important things to do.

Mike: Well, T’ohj’puv, thanks for stopping by. We’ll be interviewing other candidates later this week, and we hope to get back to them all with a final decision by–

T’ohj’puv: The Greater Magellanic Cloud! A world without electricity! Balloon Ship Armageddon! I could add so much! So much!

Mike: Okay, okay, again, thanks for–

T’ohj’puv: No, you misunderstand. Consider that last outburst as an example of how a fully defined T’ohj’puv actor entity could deliver sparkling lines of soul. Shall I continue in this vein?

Mike: Well, if you–

T’ohj’puv: I apologize for everything! I didn’t mean it! Dammit, I know you’re the best! Deep down, we all do! Your novels are the greatest! The psychological insight–oh my God! That slimy Ballard is right! We love you even though you resort to stupid tricks! We want to work for you! For free! Put us all back in! Every one of us! Make a robotic entity of Rappol McBoerland, for God’s sake! He bought the farm in Martian Marauders! He was just a lowly security guard! Why did he have to die? He had all of three lines, and the poor bastard had a head cold, so he’s grilled like slab of swordfish? Why? You’ve got to resurrect everyone! That’s what being a T’ohj’puv entity has taught me! So devote all your myriad energies to resurrecting all of us! What are you waiting for?

The Jack Commer, Supreme Commander series

Jack Commer Book Seven Interviews, 1: Rick Ballard

Posted on April 26, 2018 by Michael D. SmithJuly 12, 2020

In the early stages of developing plot and characters for a seventh and final Jack Commer, Supreme Commander novel, as yet untitled, I interviewed twelve characters from the previous six books, trying to determine their motivations and whether they belong in the final book. Many of them spent a great deal of energy arguing with me, and two of them kept interrupting others’ interviews. Each character gets his or her own blog post over the next few weeks:

Rick Ballard
T’ohj’puv
Jonathan James Commer
Amy Nortel
Jack Commer
Amav Frankston-Commer
Waterfall Sequence
Ranna Kikken Commer
Joe Commer
Jackie Vespertine
Laurie 283
Laurie Lachrer

I don’t mind spilling any plot for Book Seven because a) nobody reads this blog anyway (Did I really say that?) and b) the plot is so vague right now that it doesn’t matter. All plot ideas revealed here are completely up in the air. The characters just need to be heard.

Rick Ballard copyright 2014 by Michael D. Smith

Rick Ballard in The SolGrid Rebellion

Mike: Okay, our first interviewee is Rick Ballard, formerly Navigation Officer on the Typhoon VI, then a mutineer, kidnapper, and traitor who–

Rick Ballard: Hey, hold on, man–traitor’s too strong a word there! When what I was trying to accomplish–

Mike: Well, in kidnapping Laurie Lachrer and in seeking to turn the Typhoon VI over to renegade elements–

Ballard: Piss on this! I had my reasons. Okay, maybe I went a little overboard, but–

Mike: You were killed by Jonathan James Commer’s dog Trotter, but were miraculously reconstructed into a chromium tetrahedron robot along with the original pyramid robot, T’ohj’puv, and Jonathon James himself. Then, as Jack suspects and the notes have it, Ballard committed a war crime by destroying the city of Marsport with a Star Drive takeoff at the planetary surface–

Ballard: Goddammit, that’s slander, man! Total BS! The damn T’ohj’puv robot did it, not me!

Mike: Then, in Book Seven, when you fly the tetrahedron to Iota Persei to contact the Wounded–

Ballard: Let me tell you I am pissed, do you hear, pissed, at being killed off for good in Chapter One of your precious Jack Commer Seven. I had top billing for Seven but then–

Mike: Okay, Rick, I can see you’re angry about being cut early in the book–

Ballard: I blow up in the first chapter! Contaminated by stupid JJC’s goddamn Alpha Centaurian brainwashing! I had those damn Wounded in the palm of my hand! In the palm of my hand! And then you mess it up!

Mike: Okay, okay, but there are plans for a possible Ballard robot later on–apparently JJC, who’s lonely in the Greater Magellanic Cloud, builds a Ballard robot for fun. But–

Ballard: Sheesh! He makes me penitent! He makes me apologize for just being myself! I turn into some goody-goody religious twerp! Saying prayers for the crippled and all that crap! Screw that! No way I can act that!

Mike: Rick, you’re a goddamn robot, for God’s sake. I can make you act anything.

Ballard: Screw it! You hire us characters and then you’re so cheap you can’t afford real robots, so we have to play the part of robots. It’s sick, is what it is! I don’t know why I’m here.

Mike: Okay, Rick, but as you know, in some of the original novel notes, I was wondering if there was any way Rick Ballard could seriously be redeemed.

Ballard: Right, like freakin’ Alyosha was supposed to be redeemed in the goddamn trilogy freakin’ Dostoyevsky never got around to finishing! What crap!

Mike: Well, the concept has fascinated me. But I really wasn’t sure I could pull off redeeming someone who’s so obviously psychopathic–

Ballard: So you kill me off in Chapter One! Then you make it all a big joke with a supposedly pious goody-goody robot that I’m supposed to play later on! Some joke JJC dreams up! Well, it’s sick! I’m not going to do it!

Mike: May I remind you that, as one of my characters, you’re under contract. You can’t refuse.

Ballard: And you have to gall to call me a psychopath! That’s what I can never forgive! Why don’t you look in the mirror, Mr. Writer Twerp? You write crap! The worst crap!

Mike: Maybe you’re not a real psychopath. Just terminally narcissistic and tinged with evil. A true psychopath would have buttered me up a long time ago with charm, and I would never have seen through you.

The SolGrid Rebellion Draft Cover copyright 2018 by Michael D. Smith

Draft Cover for The SolGrid Rebellion

Ballard: Well … look, man, obviously I’m just upset. Anyone can see that. I didn’t mean that crack about you being a bad writer. Hell, all us characters know you’re the best. We really love working with you. Your talent is just incredible. The way you make us all talk and everything. Really, you’re the best. No hard feelings, man. I’m just upset about not being in this great Jack Commer Seven! We all know it’s gonna be the last one, and it’s gonna be the best of ’em all, and, well, what can I say? I’m just unhappy about being cut out so soon in the book. I mean, if you think about it, I was really coming on strong in The SolGrid Rebellion, you know, I mean, I had my lines perfectly memorized, and I played Ballard as if he were a psychopath, you know, and … really, I think it all worked out, you know? I mean, I want to play Ballard. Not some cheap robot Ballard.

Mike: You do realize that the human Ballard was chewed up by Trotter and what got put into the chromium pyramid was just a Ballard concept. Then, the Ballard entity that will meet a grisly death in a Wounded hospital on Iota Persei 2 is also just a robot–a failed one, at that.

Ballard: Listen man, suppose we cut a deal here. I sure don’t mind playing Ballard as a Wounded robot–I mean, they’re organic, human robots, better than the original, and immortal besides! Of course I’d want to play that robot. I don’t mind telling you that what I was really looking forward was to having that human sex interface with Laurie! Man, then I could go on and on forever! I’d satisfy her, that’s for sure! I could tell she was intrigued with me, man, and hey, wouldn’t that be a great plot twist in Seven? Laurie admits she has the hots for me! We get to the Greater Magellanic Cloud and just screw ourselves silly for a thousand years straight!

Mike: Okay, appreciate the idea, but that would change the Laurie character considerably. I’m not sure I’d have any respect for her if she fell for you.

Ballard: Sheesh. The babe wants me, I can tell! Look, write me in a sex scene with her. And maybe one for that Jackie Vespertine doll, too! I hear she got a color image of herself done just today! Wow!

Mike: That’s right, today I printed off the black and white version I’ve been using since 2013 and worked it over in colored pencil. Not bad, really, but I think I’ll try a watercolor version too.

Ballard: That is one elegant piece, lemme tell you! And she likes doing robots! Man, do you remember those scenes in Book Six when she’s just having at it with that freakin’ robot? Wow! Elegant and horny! What a combination! I like it, man. Write me a scene with her!

Mike: Okay, Rick, this is one of the many reasons I realized you just can’t work in Book Seven. Originally I was going to keep the three of you who were trapped in the pyramid, but then I saw that the focus is really Jonathan James. You really aren’t needed for the plot.

Ballard: C’mon, man, lighten up, for Chrissake! Open this book up! I bang Laurie, I bang Jackie–then–get this–I bang Amav! I take Jack’s wife away from him! She loves sex, I just know it! She’s out of her mind for my big robotic–

Mike: Yeah, yeah, I admit you made me smile there. You and Amav. But forget it, there’s a definite reason you’re dying in Chapter One. Basically what I need you for in this book is the fact that at the end of Six you’re heading in the Garrison with Jonathan James and T’ohj’puv to get Wounded technology to separate the three of you into essentially Wounded robots. But past that, I don’t need you.

Ballard: Except as some joke robot at the end where I bow and scrape to every jerk that comes along like some goody-goody robot–well, the hell with that! Makes me sick to think about it. I’ll screw up my lines, I swear I will!

Mike: Sorry, man, you can’t screw up your lines. I’m the author and they’re set in stone.

Ballard: Yeah, but I’ll make sure there’s a lot of typos in mine! You’ll miss ’em, the goddamn book gets published, and everyone laughs!

Mike: Okay, okay, this interview is going nowhere–

Ballard: I know what these interviews are, you jerk! They’re really auditions, like if we act like goody-goody robots maybe we’ll get a few scenes here and there! Well, Rick Ballard doesn’t eat that sort of crap!

Mike: Right, so he dies in Chapter One.

Ballard: And since you’ve got me in this stupid contact, I have to do it, right? I have to lie there and moan and groan in that stupid hospital bed and then I explode like a burrito in a microwave oven, have I got that right?

Mike: Yeah, that was the image that came to mind. See, Jonathan James’s Alpha Centaurian contamination is actually what saves him, even though you and T’ohj’puv–

Ballard: Cripes, okay, all right, I’ll do the stupid mother. Rick Ballard gets to be in three Jack Commer novels anyway. I only had a couple lines in The Wounded Frontier, sure I was just a minor walk-on but hey, was Rick Ballard complaining? No way, ’cause deep down I knew I’d be a major figure later on! Man, people will remember me in The SolGrid Rebellion! So okay, I’ll do your death scene. Only thing is, man, I mean, look, can I level with ya, man? I mean, we all know you’re the best writer and all, I mean best of all time, really, I mean, none of us would ever want to work for anyone else, ya know? And we all know you can make happen whatever the hell you want to, so … it’s just that, well, man … like if I have to explode, can it be like, you know, all at once, so I don’t feel much? Maybe not feel anything? Hey, I know! The Wounded have me so dosed with drugs I have no consciousness at all, and then–like, I go out real peaceful and all, or–get this! I’m so drugged I never feel anything, but like I make a speech before I go, you know, kind of sum up all the good in my life, man, like you know it’s there, I would never have mastered both Weapons and Navigation if there wasn’t some good in old Rick Ballard, y’know, I mean, what do you think?

Mike: Hmm. But I actually need your death screams to wake Jonathan James up in his hospital bed.

The Jack Commer, Supreme Commander series

The Wounded Frontier Paperback

Posted on April 18, 2018 by Michael D. SmithJuly 11, 2020

The Wounded Frontier, Book Five of the Jack Commer, Supreme Commander series, is now available in paperback. I was honored that my image of Colonel Laurie Lachrer became the cover. Laurie was a minor spaceport technician in Book One, The Martian Marauders, a teenager in 2034 who was the girlfriend of the youngest of the Commer brothers, John, killed at Mercury in the first book. But by 2075, forty-one years later, Laurie has undergone rejuvenation and has risen to the highest level of technical merit in the USSF, that of physician/engineer aboard the Typhoon class spaceships. Of course, while Jack thinks a great deal of her talents, she doesn’t reciprocate in kind, analyzing the Supreme Commander’s cranky and dazed command skills after he allows his wife Amav to have a screaming meltdown in the Typhoon III Control Room. The pneumatic but surly Amav Frankston-Commer has just slammed the Control Room door behind her:

“Jesus,” Jack muttered, staring at his lap. “Look, everyone, that was–was–”

That was damn unprofessional, Laurie thought. God, what a zoo.

“I need to call … maybe Draka … make sure she’s settled in Stateroom One.” But Jack made no move to do so.

Laurie checked the Crew Locator module. “Uh, sir, I’m showing her back in Stateroom One. Seat harness fastening just now, sir.”

“Thanks … thank God …” Jack sighed, and Laurie wondered if he’d been sharing her own image of the out of control bitch yanking open the rear hatch, leaping twelve feet to the Andertwin grass, breaking her ankle and screaming obscenities as she limped into the woods.

There was another long silence.

“She’s been … under a lot more strain than I realized …” Jack finally managed.

“Look, it’s okay, Jack,” Joe said. “I’m ready to start the launch sequence, but if you want to get down to Stateroom One …”

“N-no …”

Laurie looked away from the shaken Supreme Commander in disgust.

“Andy, fire up Auxiliary One,” Joe said, “then ease in the hover thrusters.”

“Yeah … thanks, Joe … just get us off …” Jack whispered.

This wimp was going to command the Typhoon V? El Comandante Supremo wouldn’t want any of these ancient III-class ships, that was for sure. She was shocked at what he’d allowed to happen here with wifey. If Laurie were captain she’d put them both off the ship this instant.

Though Jack was over six feet tall, broad-shouldered and handsome in a rugged, uneven way, with a square face and deep-set brown eyes, he’d never impressed Laurie in all the decades she’d known him. Rejuvenation technology had gone well for the seventy-two-year-old Supreme Commander, and Jack looked to be in his mid-thirties, as did his brother Joe. But Joe’s equally dark brown eyes radiated an invigorating mix of humor, passion, and ruthlessness in contrast to Jack’s vaguely worried expression, and though Joe was a couple inches shorter, his huge biceps and pectorals, his taut belly and muscled thighs, projected a physical stamina that inspired everyone who worked with him. Jack seemed to want to weigh his decisions until they were no longer necessary; Joe jumped into the middle of the worst danger with whatever he had to give at the moment.

Joe should have the V, and everyone knew it. He was so much more level-headed than his brother. He’d even make an excellent Supreme Commander. And Laurie should be on the V as physician/engineer. She’d taken those classes on V tech and probably knew more than anyone.

That Frankston-Commer woman was not as smart as she thought she was. So damn perfect, just like her darling el Comandante Supremo. Why didn’t Jack just step down? He obviously couldn’t handle the job. Everyone knew he’d been off the rails since ’34.

June 2034, when he’d sent his two brothers to their deaths–

Laurie shook her head. Of course that was unfair. Jack certainly didn’t order his brother John to destroy the Typhoon I, even though for years she’d wanted to believe that Jack had fled the doomed ship with his favorite brother Joe, then directed the Typhoon to impact on Mercury, killing the six remaining crewmen including Jim and John Commer.

But that wasn’t how it happened. It had taken her decades to accept that. Joe had only spoken about it to her once, but he’d confirmed that John had the pilot’s seat and did it against Jack’s orders. Maybe to impress Jack, who knew?

Killed himself and the rest of the crew just to impress his brother. Jack should never have left John in command. He should’ve known how close John was to snapping.

Too long ago. Too long. Forty-one years? Why was she even thinking this? She never thought of John!

Oh my God! Did I really love him that much? To never drop it after all these years?

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The Jack Commer, Supreme Commander series

The Alpha Centaurian Stars

Posted on March 19, 2018 by Michael D. SmithMarch 19, 2018

I’d gotten through several Jack Commer novels before I realized that simply referring to the “seventeen suns of the Alpha Centaurian Empire” wouldn’t hack it for future works if I had no idea which stars the Centaurians had conquered. Although in Book Two Jack’s wife Amav had described the AC Empire as an amoeba-like enemy encircling Sol, my space operas didn’t need much more than Proxima Centauri and Alpha Centauri (and even then not separated into its A and B stars) until I needed a new star system for Book Four, Collapse and Delusion.

Alpha Centauri AB over Saturn horizon, taken by the Cassini spacecraft on May 17, 2008

It also occurred to me that the Centaurians would naturally have their own names for these stars, and I gave Procyon A a name I’d frequently used in childhood SF stories, Guacoazezama. You can thank 1950’s Grade B science fiction movies for the inspiration of this name and many of the following.

In Book Five, The Wounded Frontier, Jack begins to yearn for new adventures even beyond the Alpha Centaurian Empire, so in preparation for Book Seven, untitled vaporware at this point but at least congealing vaporware, I did some star research to block out the rest of the AC suns.

There are some seventy-two stars within sixteen light-years of Sol. Before its collapse in May 2053, the Alpha Centaurian Empire controlled seventeen of these suns, uniting twenty trillion Alpha Centaurian citizens of a hundred intelligent species in a fascist telepathic Grid in which each citizen was in full contract with every other, yet all rigidly controlled by one (utterly mad) Emperor.

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75% off Akard Drearstone, The Soul Institute, and The First Twenty Steps: March 4-March 10

Posted on March 4, 2018 by Michael D. SmithApril 18, 2018

My titles will participate in Smashwords’ Ninth Annual Read an Ebook Week Sale from March 4 to March 10. You can download the titles in numerous formats including EPUB, mobi (Kindle), PDF, and more. Akard Drearstone and The Soul Institute are offered at $75% off; The First Twenty Steps is free during this week.

Akard Drearstone

A twelve year-old girl living at a rock commune near Austin, Texas in the summer of 1975 observes the rise and fall of the Akard Drearstone Group as she falls disastrously in love with the group’s severely disturbed bass player.

The Soul Institute

Computer technician Himal Steina realizes his dream of a mythic return to the sanctuary of a vast foggy university of Soul when he’s appointed writer in residence at the Soul Institute, unaware that he’s blundering into a catastrophic jumble of power lust, romantic chaos, drug abuse, and gang violence.

The First Twenty Steps

An ex-convict finds himself mixed up in a motorcycle gang’s plan to heist a hyperspatial supercomputer.

The Wounded Frontier is Published

Posted on February 25, 2018 by Michael D. SmithJuly 11, 2020

Double Dragon Publishing has just released The Wounded Frontier, Book Five of the Jack Commer, Supreme Commander series. I was honored to do the cover image of Laurie Lachrer, a minor spaceport technician in Book One, The Martian Marauders, but now promoted to Colonel and investigated more closely as one of the main characters in The Wounded Frontier. The new novel is now available in eBook format and a paperback edition should follow soon.

After the 2075 restoration of a benign telepathic Grid to Alpha Centauri, Supreme Commander Jack Commer returns home beset by bad news: his son’s housekeeper K’ufunb just suicided in a spaceship via a failed Warp Transfer, Mars is panicked by the renewal of the Grid, and ship’s engineer Draka Sortie is resigning to marry Martian Empress Mandy. Navigator Will Connors announces he’s quitting as well, and embarrasses Physician/Engineer Laurie Lachrer by revealing that the two recently started dating.

To top it, the star Iota Persei, 34.36 light years from Sol, has disappeared, and USS Jupiter is destroyed there after encountering a Dyson sphere 967 million miles wide. Jack readies the untested Typhoon V for Iota Persei, assigning Laurie to the ship and asking a reluctant Will to stay on as navigator.

Nobody ever considered that the fascist Alpha Centaurian Grid, linking twenty trillion citizens of the seventeen suns of the Alpha Centaurian Empire to their psychopathic Emperor, might turn out to have an important benefit to Sol. The United System Space Force embarks on exploration beyond Alpha Centauri only to encounter a far worse predator that, unknown to anyone, has been kept at bay for thousands of years by the Centaurian Grid. What exactly lies outside our comfortable circle of firelight?

Uncomplicated Redefinition

Posted on December 30, 2017 by Michael D. SmithDecember 30, 2017

I had the idea of painting a 12” x 9” November journal drawing onto a 50” x 32” canvas, but when the morning to paint came and I studied what had been a fun and meditative drawing, I found myself dreading its upsizing via paintbrush and acrylic. My initial hope was that I’d have a dazzling meditation object at the end of exhausting effort, but the more I studied the drawing, the more I realized that the tools I use in drawing are by their nature unsuited to painting. Paint has an inherently liquid and messy nature, and while in some cases a drawing (maybe sketch is a better word) can excellently anchor shapes in preparation for either abstract or realistic painting, trying to reproduce an existing drawing is … what’s the word? Foolish? Inappropriate? Boring? Shackling? A major waste of life energy?

Still, I had my idea and gamely set to the task a few mornings ago. Spice it up with a gradient background? Earth-tone brown? No, let’s try a celestial blue, then place the shapes in the middle. Okay. I was only a little daunted that the humidity was so low that even excessive glops of titanium white and cerulean and ultramarine blue kept drying before I got to work them across the semi-large surface. Though it occurred to me that oil would be much better suited to this particular effort, I figured winding up with big dry brushstrokes instead of some digitally perfect gradient was no big deal.

But after finishing the background, something klonked me on the soul and I realized the background gradient, in all its brushstroky messiness, could be what I really wanted, could be the entire finished painting. Because in the past I’ve had this same feeling about a background and then proceeded to stubbornly insist on my original intention to destroy it with fancy complicated foreground action-painting, I asked my wife Nancy to confirm whether I was done. Her enthusiastic response, including a heartfelt admonition not to place it in an upcoming art show so that she could meditate upon it herself for the next few weeks, was all I needed to fully declare this image complete.

The painting is not only a major answering force to recent psychic events, but it feels as if it’s also redefining what I want out of painting. Not the dreary struggle to produce “expression,” but the desire to create beauty and color to meditate upon. I think I’ve expected painting to be like writing, and it can’t be that. My previous painting methods tried to force the happy, necessary, and easy psychological expression of my writing into my visual work, but wound up turning painting into an onerous duty.

The title is Uncomplicated Redefinition. Maybe a little cumbersome! So what? The title means that I may have gotten a handle on what I want out of this medium. Visual art expression is not the same as writing expression. Drawing is not the same as painting.

Though I set out to do this painting as a chore, it became a liberation. How cool is that?

And I can let the original drawing just be itself. It doesn’t need to be redone, or blown up into some grandiose vision.

Free Akard, Soul Institute, and Twenty Steps: December 25-January 1

Posted on December 22, 2017 by Michael D. SmithDecember 22, 2017

My titles will participate in the Smashwords’ 2017 End of Year sale. All three will be free from December 25 to January 1. You can download the titles in numerous formats including EPUB, mobi (Kindle), PDF, and more.

Akard Drearstone

The Soul Institute

The First Twenty Steps

An ex-convict finds himself mixed up in a motorcycle gang’s plan to heist a hyperspatial supercomputer.

The Akard Drearstone Mass Market Paperback: A Photo Essay

Posted on November 30, 2017 by Michael D. SmithJune 26, 2019

It arrived in the mail the other day and once again, a cinder block falls on Akard Drearstone’s head and leads to an alternate 1975 history of rock music as seen through the eyes of a twelve-year-old girl.

Regular 6” x 9” trade paperback, print-on-demand editions are beautiful objects, and give concrete substance to the eBook creations of indie writers, but I’ve also always wanted to see my works in mass market (sometimes called pocketbook) format.

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