The Time Machine (Book Review)

As the new year approaches I hope that you've all had a terrific year and a joyous Christmas! Sorry I've been inactive for the last couple of weeks but I've been rather busy as of late around this time. But now we can return to normal and end the Old Year with a good old-fashioned book review. For Christmas this year I received some books, being a somewhat avid reader, amongst which were Lord of the Flies, the Nobel Prize-winning, 1954 dystopian schoolboy masterpiece, from William Golding; I-Robot, the progenitor hi-tech collection of stories upon which the very field of Robotics was founded by scientist Isaac Asimov and finally, the book that I will review today: The Time Machine. The 1895 tale from biologist H. G. Wells is seen alongside Jules Verne's 20000 Leagues Under the Sea as a definitive tale, that founded the genre of Science Fiction itself.

One of the three grandfathers of Science Fiction, Wells has constructed a classic scenario of the human condition and the political possibilities of how our race might develop, epitomised by the struggle endured by a tranquil surface race (the Eloi) at the enjoyment of their wretched subterranean brethren, the Morlocks, in the distant future held in store for us, in 802,701 AD.

The story is quite short at just under 100 pages, but contained within those pages is a sublime journey across the fourth dimension into contrasting worlds constructed so vividly, that one can reach out and touch it; you can live and breathe the very tale, which seldom happens in my opinion and even as I write this passage and think back to the penultimate chapter, I get shivers just thinking about the dying Earth visited in the year 13,000,000-odd AD, where a brackish sea and a frighteningly large, red sun greets our unnamed time-traveller. And I think back further and consider the year in which it was written, 1895, and try to imagine a probably science-illiterate public and their reaction to the story, with a hodgepodge of opinions flying like bullets as a new-fangled concept emerged; that of time-travel.

Wells' writing in this story is in past tense, with almost every paragraph contained in speech marks as the story follows the time-traveller's recollections of his time spent in the far future, explaining it to a group of incredulous people, most of whom are named by simple archetypes such as "the Editor," "the Psychologist," "the Journalist" etc. Even our time-traveller lacks a name, which is impressive given that he is no 'cookie-cutter' character and when others refer to him in speech, his name becomes simply "Mr. -" This idiosyncrasy is similar to the voice of the time-traveller himself, with the voice being -as one might expect- rather educated and 'old-fashioned', with explanations taking up -on occasion- more words than necessary, though this seems only to strengthen the character, demonstrating his knowledge as unusual Latin lone-words creep into explanations of nature, applied to the plant life for example, which is testament to the author's knowledge of biology, which serves only to make the read even more fascinating.

The ease of reading the novel is similar to Orwell's 1984 for me, with a similar tone of voice albeit tackling a very different topic, which made this even more enjoyable, with the ability to relieve, frighten and disgust the reader equally present in both Author's repertoires.

Suffice it to say, The Time Machine has been a great pleasure of a book, presenting a vivid world, a developed cast of characters and a surprisingly rich storyline that still to this day, is far from being 'primitive'. His almost prophetic prose and unsettling predictions is matched by a brilliant insight into Wells' Socialist politics and the political orthodoxy during which the book was written, rendering the quote from the New Statesman's 1895 review "H. G. Wells has written a clever book..." a painful understatement.

Penguin's 2012 Edition

Carat Media Internship: Journal Entry #12

The finale of the autumn term has arrived at Carat Manchester, though it was something of an anti-climax considering that I finished the day earlier than usual. Aside from a few festive decorations and a mini golf set, the office was largely unchanged. I conducted another keyword list for the subject of Astrology of all things in addition to a Site Transparency report for a client. This was followed by a Placement report for three different clients and after all that, it was decided that I was allowed to leave early! In total I completed about 4 hours of work if you exclude the lunch hour, a nice treat before break up. But the biggest surprise came before leaving when I was presented with a small box of Lindt chocolates as a Christmas bonus, so thanks for that guys!

Aside from this there really isn't anything to be said about the day, apart from the state of some workers (it was the Christmas party the night before, so people were still a little rough!) that came as a shock given that it was right in the middle of the week; I'd always thought of work's parties being held at weekends, but apparently not. In all however, the day was short and sweet, a nice wrap-up (no pun intended) of things before Christmas and with that, I will see you next time in the New Year.

Merry Christmas!

Carat Media Internship: Journal Entry #11

And so the journey continues into the penultimate week before I break up for Christmas! The campaign from last week, on which I advised on strategy, performed quite well I was told, so I'm quite pleased about that.

This week was rather exciting too, for I worked with PowerPoint, designing slides for a client to sell AMNET's Facebook analytics abilities as effectively as I could, which gave me a great experience with the software in placing images, changing colours and hues, and writing as concisely as I could, which I took a liking to pretty much instantly.

I used infographics to demonstrate some key points such as Facebook's reach (targeting the message to the client's geo-targeting strategy seeing as they wanted to target Yorkshire specifically,) as well as one that I pulled from eConsultancy that showed the audience demographics:

I thought it all went quite smoothly. I also helped in advising a colleague on her slides by proofreading for typos and wording inconsistencies: for example -because you work in a particular field, jargon becomes a second language almost, which outsiders don't understand- and so I had to -on occasion- ask what certain phrases meant, so together we re-worded some parts of the presentation in order to make it more client-friendly; we don't want our message to go over their heads after all! I don't think the presentation has been completed yet, but the deadline approaches and I hope it contributes to our successes; we've seen quite a few recently between gaining the Premiere Foods contract and being bought out by Dentsu back in July, let's hope it continues! 

After the presentation, I conducted some more stuff on Excel, completing a Keyword, Placement and Ad Group report for a client and recommending a strategic direction for each, stating good and bad results for CPC, CTR and CPA and reasons as to why this was so. For example, I deduced that since the campaign performed well on the keyword for "Help to buy," that the reason why it was successful was due to the political implications with George Osbourne's "Help to Buy" scheme designed to help people onto the housing ladder in the United Kingdom via part-subsidised lending packages bestowed to prospective first-time buyers. This obviously holds certain implications for as to the average age of those clicking them, which could aid the campaign further in the coming weeks.

Finally, as a task before leaving I tried (and failed) in attempting my first ever Spend check. Spend checks are basically accounts that show conversions, clicks and spend etc. of any of our campaigns and the budget remaining at any given time. Because platforms such as Facebook are unreliable as far as determining costs are concerned, we have to manually input and check the numbers via the other DSPs in order to show the true amount and if it corresponds -as it should- then there would be no need to change anything, and we can just copy and paste the data into the Excel template. If however, there are discrepancies, then we must make the changes in order to make the budgeting fully transparent. These are also used to check the amount of cash that you have remaining for any particular campaign, and if there isn't enough you will have to alter the budgets allocated to each strategy or advert in order to stay within budget so that the campaign runs its course.

The reason as to why I failed was because I just found the whole layout confusing and it was at the end of the day, so maybe I'll try again next week when I'm fresh in the morning. I actually finished early this week since we had a small pre-Christmas celebration where the others gave presents around from under our tree in a "Secret Santa" fashion. Mulled wine was drank (from mugs!) and generally people unwrapped gifts with joyous cheer (there were some very cool presents, like an infographics book with trivia, or a 3D artistic sculpture from the Gadget Shop, as well as a white chocolate Snowman!) A fun day in all with a great twist away from the norm.

And so we proceed to the finale before Christmas, let's hope it's exciting . . .

Nine Days to go!

SKYSCARR: Update and a Long-Delayed Description

As I get back into the swing of rewriting SKYSCARR, I feel that I should address a proper description for the storyline: This is usually one of the hardest bits to write because it needs to be engaging, concise and leave readers clamouring for more, which can be really difficult if the plot has many story lines or a complicated plot with many elements; it's like flash-fiction I guess. This is why I wanted to share something that -if you have written, or even researched about writing a novel- will be familiar to you. Writing a novel in ten steps shows how you can plan a whole novel, but the first step about summarising the whole story into a single sentence, is where we can truly begin our arduous journey.

This sentence is the foundation, the stonework, the ground upon which the edifice of our novel stands gloriously upon completion, for us to admire; yet it's also our first glimpse into how we condense something potentially as large as a million words, into so few. So let's try it with my novel!

"SKYSCARR" is about . . .

'A group of people fighting to overthrow a corrupt and genocidal government.'

That's simple enough, it doesn't mention any major plot elements such as the magic and technology that blend Sci Fi with Fantasy or anything else. As far as the reader of that sentence would be concerned, it could fit into innumerable genres or sub-genres. But now we need to flesh it out a little more, make it more engaging than the generic theme; what makes it unique?

'As people walk the streets with a lifeless demeanour, a conspiracy bubbles in the 23rd Century. A tranquil Earth filled with technological wonders, with a second planet embodied by magic hanging in the crest of a wormhole above, are the apotheosis of stability. But everything hangs in a fragile balance, the interplanetary government of the past 200 years instigating long-anticipated actions. The peace shatters as citizens are killed by the hundreds, and an unlikely band of citizens are blamed for the havoc. And without a government to protect them, the military all-too-happy to obey their orders and a citizenry up-in-arms against them, they run for salvation and truth, against time so limited and with a relentless pursuit force hot on their trail. 

And so their odyssey begins, taking them to the very heart of history, to learn what happened all those years ago.'

Now that sheds much more light on the story, though the characters are not described in any detail. Personally I feel that the story is more narrative-driven than character-driven, and seeing as there's five main protagonists, all working as a single unit almost, it would be hard to fit all of them into a single paragraph. As with the previous description, this one does not delve into the key details of the story such as the setting, the pace and the characters, but rather if focuses on the dilemma that they face to create a sense of mystery. The characters do develop over the course of the story in their own way and they are -I think!- likeable enough to maintain a connection with the reader, but like I said, the main USP, if you will, behind this is the constant urgency and mystery, shown through almost constant real-time events and non-linear POVs between the protagonists and antagonists.

I hope that you enjoyed reading it all the same and please let me know if there are any suggestions/critiques etc. of the description, storyline etc. Thanks for reading as always and see you soon.

Carat Media Internship: Journal Entry #10

As we reach double digits for my time spent within Carat, the holiday approaches! We've been putting some Christmas campaigns together recently as I'm sure you're aware, putting keywords into practice for those searching for gifts etc. I didn't complete anything of that sort this week but a rather more complicated task.

As I've detailed in previous weeks, I have so far completed Site Transparency reports, Keyword reports and Ad Performance reports amongst others; this time I reported for two clients on overall performance for the last two months. That's pretty much all of those separate reports combined into one behemoth file! Needless to say, the report contained several pieces of data for several different metrics, all of which formed a six-figure cell total.

When you first stare into something so large and you have so much stuff to analyse it's impossible to organise it into just 1 pivot table; I found that I needed at least 3 or 4 since the idea behind the task was to re-evaluate the strategy because in many respects the campaign was failing to get through to a core audience, though there were pockets of times and days when business was good, as well as certain creatives that outperformed others, which I then found were affected, in turn, by the exchange through which they travelled and when I pulled all this together, I started to see a bigger picture. And that's basically the whole point of the task, to discover who was clicking, when, on what days, and as you find a desired audience, you look at what media best sends the message to these people along a valuable exchange.

Imagine doing this for two clients!

Once I completed this task I wrote up my findings and suggestions for the campaign direction in a Word document. We'll see how that performed next week, so fingers crossed! In essence the whole process is just a constant trial and error, using judgement and intuition about why certain things are happening, and what you can do to affect that world from behind a DSP in as positive a way as possible for your client. Sometimes I imagine it gets pretty stressful, especially if nothing's working or there's not much time to get a campaign off the ground, which is where a client might start getting agitated with you. But given that there are many options to chose from, all at the click of a few buttons, chances are, there will exist somewhere in the ether the solution to your problem; you've just got to find it!

Offline Systems

The piece below is a Military SF/Space Opera short story, with some names recycled from my untitled first chapter uploaded in this blog post. You may also notice that this is set in the same universe as the previous (the Daros Collective, a utopian universe similar to Iain M. Banks' "the Culture.") The piece may be integrated into the space opera novel later down the line, but so far it serves as the first part to a short story called "On A Glorious Stellar Breeze." Without further delay, here is Part 1:

Offline Systems

Our warship shook violently with metallic clangs as status indicators flashed on and off erratically from the last missile strike.

Lieutenant Hendrick shouted above the rattling with a strain,

“Starboard’s in a bad way Sir! We can’t hold them off for much longer.” His hair dripped beads of sweat that ran in rivulets under his Flightsuit. I ran to the centre of the bridge, smoke curling through vents as part of the ship died away on my control map, first glowing red, then greying out.

“Shit!” I smacked the metal table with a dull thud, “We just lost them Hendrick.” I spoke in hurried stammers to the rest of the crew via Network:

“Keep them at bay! Portside Defences Alpha, Beta and Delta engage targets of opportunity! All non-combatant units commence rescue operations for Starboard Section A; bring them to Evac. Bunker Two! I can’t-“ A deafening blast erupted from someplace; my voice was drowned out: “Communications with Starboard are down. I repeat, Starboard communications are down!” I spat the sentence out before I could be interrupted again.

More volleys struck us in quick succession; the world shimmered in my eyes. The ship groaned like a large metal door and shook uncontrollably as officers were thrown to their feet in panicked cries, inaudible over the ship’s scream of agony.

Hendrick grabbed the support rail, “Damage report!” he shouted to the other officers.

“We’ve lost the whole Starboard sir; it’s gone!” A young officer, barely into his mid-twenties stared horrified at the holoscreen as he read his status updates.

“Shit!” I thumped the desk again.

“What should we do?” He shouted over to me, everyone followed his gaze. I took a deep breath, my bones rattling still long after the last strike had subsided:

“Get everybody off while we still can!” Another missile, I hit my head, I was dazed.

“What the hell was that?” I shouted, getting back to my feet, soothing the bruise.

“Strike on Portside Section C. But there should be enough evacuation chambers left for the whole ship though, or what’s left of it.” The same officer sounded ecstatic now, but knew that what was left was very little at this point.

I activated the Network again, hoping my message reached everybody, but I knew in the darkest recesses of my mind that there was a good chance that it wouldn’t; we lost too many that day:

I spat the command out, anguished, “All fleet members on-board Olympus, make your way to the nearest Evacuation Points, set target for Level 3 of the Eros Elliptical.”

Hendrick muttered something under his breath as he turned away to tend to his subordinates, but I couldn’t hear what it was. We gathered up and ran from the bridge, falling deeper into the more concealed areas of the labyrinth that was my ship, the Eros flagship Olympus.

The black smoke grew thick around us as we passed through ravaged corridors and ran urgently like a pack of wild animals, shaken every few seconds as the battering continued. I could imagine the depth of space around us as a tang of burnt metal filled the air and cries of despondency erupted everywhere, people in uniform running frightened for any last means of solace as the last of our weapons systems were either finally abandoned in lost hope, or were knocked offline by the continuing barrage of strikes from the Light Crawlers. A beam-leister ripped through the level above us as people screamed, the metal lining the corridor above wobbled like jelly, melted from the heat. I imagined steam cascading from the molten substance as I prayed that the rest of the crew had heard my last command, but knowing that I would never know; that was what really pissed me off. If anyone was up there, they’d be vaporized by now, (I kept telling myself that;) the harsh realities of war bit into me as I rushed, staggered and stumbled, all the while hoping that any escape pods remaining weren’t damaged or lost; we weren’t going to lose anymore, I was determined. I lead the way as Hendrick displayed a calm demeanour alongside me, his eyes constantly looking to the floor as we made our way to the kilometre-thick security-door at the end of a blackened hall, the smoke now obscuring our sight. We resorted to infrared vision, turning the world bloody and bleak.

I swiped a hand over the lock as it clicked open, the air lock depressurizing like a sight of relief, which I mimicked, my fear subsiding slightly. No commander wants to be faced with the burden of knowing that you cost people their lives needlessly. But we weren’t in absolute defeat today, for I knew we’d snatch back victory, the slow closing of the tall door like a great canyon of metal, impervious to all threats and in such a moment my stone face offered a thin smile and the sounds of destruction faded. The indeterminably long row of escape pods stretched out for miles, sitting like small metal ball-bearings with a large window that would slide over the front and airlock immediately, activating a supply of oxygen and other necessities as it sent its occupant into a stasis as it travelled towards a habitable environment, whereupon the passenger would be awoken again, and ejected soon after. We were still thousands of kilometres away from the Elliptical; I pointed to the young officer I’d spoken to earlier. He seemed rather shocked to still be alive as he saluted comradely, his spine stiff and his fingers locked above his brow with precision and discipline:

“How far out from the third level are we? We can’t let them land.”

The young man checked his status watch and replied in no more than 3 seconds eagerly:

“Approximately 24,597 kilometres Sir. We should be able to land on Plain 97 of Level 3 with ease. The Interstellar Artillery will be only ten miles away from where we would be expected to land.” His face lit up but was shaken constantly as the roar of war seeped through the thickened walls of the evacuation bunker.

I replied immediately, braving the shakes, “Yes, Officer, I know. I plan on us using them once we arrive.”

“Using them?” Hendrick overheard, his face disbelieving.

I pivoted and stared, hard-eyed, “Yes, we need to stop them landing here or they’ll take the 97^th plain from us Hendrick. I won’t stand by and watch the Eros Elliptical be annihilated beyond repair.” I turned away again and muttered: “There’s billions of sentients here Hendrick and I’ll defend them to the death.” A groan of metal yawned again as the very foundations of the sentinel walls buckled under pressure. Officers stared in horror.

The disarrayed ship shuddered and bumped and buckled like a mere tin can while everyone piled into escape pods frantically, priming them to be shot off at unfathomable speeds, some having left several minutes ago, no doubt. The floor of the trench over which they sat lay open to the void of space, the blackness frighteningly calm when you saw it stare at you; that nothingness, that depth of zero. The mesosphere of the elliptical’s stacked rings glowed out of vision, a cyan aura radiant, like rings of dry ice against an unlit coal fire surrounding the star in precise distances, the centrifugal force of the centre ring channelled up and down to the others by a layer of invisible matter stacked inside of the structure and enclosing the Eros star.

Hendrick got into one of the pods, the one next to him I marked as my own internally. Before I left I hesitated and said to the ship solemnly:

“Olympus, you’ve served me well over the last five years but you’re too badly damaged to continue.”

She (her sentient AI) piped up invisibly, “I’m well aware of that Sir: my propulsion units are all offline as are all offensive capabilities, the Network is down both internally and externally, and the Starboard has all but been destroyed at this point.”

“Yes, but I want to ask you a final favour: Can you self-destruct your Power-HUB? I want to ensure that as many enemy ships die as possible. We need time.” The words pained me as they passed my lips.

She paused then replied, a lag in the failing system, “Yes, of course Commander. I’d like nothing more than to die in your and your crew’s honour. And there are numerous targeted opportunities in range you’ll be glad to know, so my sacrifice will not be in vain I assure you. You must prevent the invasion of the militarised plain, the star must not go nova and I am sure that you will do your duty Commander. Good luck Sir.”

I looked to the ceiling and said in my most gracious voice, “Thank you.”

If I could have seen a face to match her voice, I was sure it would have looked happy, overjoyed even at dying as she did. But the ship herself continued to blow apart as I spoke, the portside also nearly destroyed by that point, the echoes of battle growing nearer as steam cascaded and filled the chamber from a splintered wall into the bunker, corridors razed and floors dusted with debris.

Before I left the ship spoke once more, “Before you go Sir, I have a final request.”

“Anything you want.” I smiled towards the ceiling, itching to get off the wreckage.

“Will you tell Intel. Corps that I fully enjoyed serving with them, upon your glorious return?”

“I would like nothing more Olympus; I’ll ensure that you are treated with the utmost respect by our comrades in Intel. Corps, and I am sure that they would be delighted to honour your sacrifice, in the utmost enthusiasm.”

“Thank you again Sir, I’ve enjoyed serving under you.”

“As have I Olympus, as have I.” The ship seemed to sigh in satisfaction, which I enjoyed hearing; it was the last we spoke before she blew as I made for my escape pod.

The ship was now rattling and whining as alarms started whirring horribly; a new, ugly voice called out an emergency warning to evacuate immediately as the emergency light strips activated, glowing yellow against the red deck in my vision. I was one of the last to leave, the pod glowing blue from within the cockpit as I felt my eyes begin to fall in a drunken descent after the hatch closed, the pod’s mechanisms sending me into a dreamless sleep as the airlocks sealed, breathing in and holding the air hostage for the next few days. The pod was spat from the floating wreckage of Olympus, the AI doubtless sending out its last communication that would be at the end of its file on the Intel. Corps database: Death by self-induced core-overload in 2797 SE: Eros System; Commander Ritzen, Command.

As our fleet of escape pods travelled peacefully yet speedily towards the gargantuan elliptical, I dreamt of the ship’s destruction above and the havoc it no doubt created for our enemy, the blinding punch of light from the overload to be seen unknown amounts of time after on some distant world I thought, possibly long after my own life had ended, like a star gone supernova. We survived in our thousands thanks to Olympus, and I’m still grateful to this day. But the hardship for us didn’t end there. We realised our biggest fears on the forest-laden surface of the third level, the nameless plain marked simply as a military outpost that glowed somewhere in the maze of matter beneath us, testament to our long stalemate of a war; a war that in the end outlived all of us and it is here that I will ask you:

Don’t they all?

I hope that you enjoyed this piece and please let me know if you liked/ didn't like it; I always welcome constructive criticism. If you want to suggest any improvements or things that you'd like to see in the future, please do get in touch. Before I end this post I'd like to say thanks for reading and sorry I haven't uploaded any creative stuff in a little while, I've been busy, but I hope that you've enjoyed my Carat Media blog posts in such an absence, if you've been reading them. Have a nice day!

*UPDATE (23/02/2014)

Thought I'd update this story so please, tell me what you think.
Thanks!