[Poll] Vote: March '13 Flash Challenge

[kailhofer]

To vote, rate these stories on the form in the post following this one and send it to me via PM:


The challenge was to tell the story of a superhero named Bob or Bobbi.



The following entries were received:


Saving The World



The girl checking tickets at the gate is very pretty. She has jet black hair in a perfect bob cut. I can’t take my eyes off the way it moves with the tiny motions of her head. When I get to the front of the line and hand her my ticket, I smile broadly at her. I get a tiny smile in return, the kind that comes without teeth. I take my ticket stub and walk away down the gantry with an irrational feeling of disappointed. If she knew that I was saving the world maybe she’d like me better. Maybe it was her hair, I can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe my wife’s hair looked like that.

“Why are you so sure you were married?” Doctor Cob said when I asked about my wife. It’s wasn’t his real name, just like Bob Howard isn’t mine. I showed the Doc my ring finger and the circular indentation around it.

“She died,” the Doc said, his voice flat. “Everyone in the programme is alone, no family, no connections. That’s how it has to be. That’s why you volunteered.”

I can’t remember anything before they made me a superhero, I can’t even remember my wife, so how can I be sure I volunteered? I never asked the Doc that. You don’t become a superhero if you haven’t got the right attitude.

I’m in business class for a change, which is good because it’s long haul to Toronto. Saving the world means flying all over it. I find my seat, settle in. Nothing to see folks, no need to thank me, just doing my job. Breath in, breath out.

They turn the lights up bright about two hours before we land. I watch the news. There are food riots in Spain and France, diplomatic relations between Russia and Finland have broken down again. There’s more on the famine in Africa, There’s always famine in Africa but never this bad, images of babies with swollen bellies and flies drinking from their eyes. The world’s on a knife edge, too many people and not enough resources. World war three is just around the corner, nuclear Armageddon. It’s my job to stop that happening.

As I walk out of the gate at arrivals, a cute blonde detaches herself from the crowd.

“Bob! Bob!”

She waves energetically, face lit up with a huge smile. She grabs me in a fierce hug when I get near.

“Oh, it’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you so much,” she gushes for anyone close enough to hear. “Come on, I’m parked in short-term.”

I’ve never met her before, or maybe I have but I don’t remember. Maybe she’s my wife. When we’re away from the crowd, marching across wet concrete towards the parking structure, she drops the act.

“I’m Andi. You’ve got a fourteen hour stop-over and then tomorrow you’re flying to Beijing via London.”

I should do the challenge and response thing but I’m too tired. She drives me to a hotel, it’s mid-range, non-descript. Up in the room there’s a double bed and it makes me wonder if I’ll be alone that night.

Andi’s got a whole new set of luggage for me, new clothes, new passport.

“You’re a tourist, going to see the sites,” she tells me as I change out of the dark grey business suite and into jeans and a cotton shirt. She sits me down, puts one of those big, fluffy hotel towels around my neck and cuts my hair. Then she tints it a shade lighter.

I check my new passport, look at the picture inside. It’s me but I don’t recognise myself. I never do, even when I look in the mirror. I look average, bland, unassuming. It’s one of my superpowers. My new name is Bob Holborn. It’s always Bob something.

“Are you staying?” I ask, when she’s finished drilling me on my new identity.

She doesn’t say anything but she leans in and kisses me. I’m not sure it’s what I want but I don’t like to offend her, she’s only doing her job. She doesn’t know I’m a superhero or about my mission. She doesn’t know about the programme that’s plotting my routes, directing me on flights through the major transport hubs and population centres all over the world.

Sometimes, I like to think I’m the only one but I know there are other superheros like me. She might even be one. She might have the same superpower. I hope so because otherwise she’ll probably be dead in a couple of months. That makes me feel bad so I hope that maybe she’s one of the lucky ones instead. I hope that Andi is one of those who gets sick but don’t die, whose body can destroy the lethal virus I carry. That’s my main superpower, I can carry the virus in my body without getting sick and without my immune system destroying it.

In the morning, I grab a paper from the lobby as we leave. The headline says that even though the population has topped ten billion, the new Pope still refuses to allow Catholics to use contraception until they’ve had at least two children. We’re killing ourselves, we’re sucking the planet dry, but I’m going to save us. I’m going to save the world by killing ninety percent of the human population before we get a chance to nuke everything back to radioactive slime.

Andi kisses me as she drops me off in front of arrivals and waves goodbye through the open window as she drives away. It’s a nice touch. I hoist my backpack and walk into the crowded lobby, checking the information board.

I’m a superhero, I’m saving the world. This is my mission; breath in, breath out.


The End



The Tale of Bob



Once upon a time, almost before recorded history, but not quite, in the time of Gilgamesh there lived a weaver of cloth named Gorfflemychu. Gorfflemychu, which means bright flame, is also the meaning of the name Bob. In order not to make things too confusing to our modern readers and listeners who have no passing conversational ability in Babylonian, we’ll keep his name as Bob.

Now as I mentioned, Bob was a weaver of cloth, as was his father, and father’s father before him, and even so down before recorded time. They made a decent living. Bob had a wife and many children. His skill as a rug maker was known locally and throughout the Fertile Crescent. Bob was a content human.

One day while teaching his number one son, also named Bob, the secrets of the trade, the boy-man who would inherit all that was his, primogeniture being the custom and law of the time, there came a stranger to the entrance of Bob’s establishment.

Bob the father, not the son, greeted the visitor with respect, as was his wont, whether or not the person in front of him was wealthy or not. “All people deserved respect,” the father would tutor the younger Bob.

Bob welcomed the man in. “Sir some drink, wine, beer, dates and other fine eatables as you might like after your trip. For surely sir, I would know if you were from these parts. Please rest. We’ll talk business only after you’re rested and fed.” This was the custom and Bob adhered to it.

The guest was very pleased. He displayed no trapping of wealth and was delighted that this rug maker, this worker of cloth treated him as a though he were a king. “Your honesty, generosity and fairness are known far beyond anywhere you can imagine,” said his guest.

“You are too kind. I am honored,” answered Bob.

Finally after food and drink a plenty the guest began,“ I come to you, maker of rugs because of your reputation, ability, skills and fairness which I have seen enough to know is as true as has been proclaimed. I would like you to make me a carpet of the best materials known in the world. Spare no expense.” And so saying dropped 7 bags of gold. “This should be deposit enough,” declared the guest.

“Sir, I’m not sure I am up to what I believe you might be looking for, and were I,” he said pointing to the seven bags of gold continued, “your deposit is more than I would charge.”

The guest laughed and said, “It might be more than you would charge but consider this my payment for your future efforts and current hospitality. When do you believe you will have it completed?”

Bob was quiet for some time thinking about some of the dreams he had had and the designs that had run through his mind. He would wake up from his dreams and press his cuneiform stylus onto the wet clay he kept by the bedside for his ideas. “It will be months at best.” He hoped this would not upset his guest but this was a tall order.

The guest said with a smile, “I will return in a half a year’s time.” He rose to his huge full height, which in our day would be reckoned as close to seven feet tall. He bowed and left.

Bob stood there wondering what, how and when this task could be completed. His son witnessed the whole proceeding. His wife, when she heard the story and saw the gold as proof of the guest’s sincerity said, “You’ve trained a number of people in the art. Hire them to do the basic work. You can put the finishing touches. You can afford to pay them and work this project. You have six months.”

Six months pass:

To the day the guest arrived and was treated in exactly the same manner. After the formalities, Bob said, “Please come with me and let me show you what I have made for you. I prayed to the gods for inspiration. I hope this meets with your desire and approval.” He pulled a curtain back away from a large loom that was specially fabricated for this project.

The guest looked, walked around the item, nodding all the while inspecting the thread count, the weave, the colors, seven times. At the end of the seventh time he stopped and looked down at Bob. He said, “This is the work of a god, not a human. I am blessed and for such a work I will impart a secret to you and you alone that you may impart to your first born only, and he to his, for ten generations.” He whispered in Bob’s ear. Bob turned a shade like that of alabaster.

Bob stood there quietly as his guest left, sitting upon the rug which flew off.

Bob made more rugs with the flying skills but only for guests who showed the proper identification that his first guest indicated would be a sign.

Many years later:

Bob was old and dying. His son now ran the business in the same manner and fashion as his father had done. One day just before Bob’s passing to the great unknown, his son asked him, “Father, you promised to tell me how you did this. What is the secret of the flying rugs?”

Bob motioned for his son to come closer. He whispered most of the secret. The effort was too great and in his final breaths said, “You must name the one who will inherit your business with the name Bob, for not only is it in the magic I just passed on to you, but it’s also in the magic of the name Bob. Son, you have to be both a Bob and weaver.”

As Bob said these last words, in the heavens the thunder rolled and the lightening flashed and crashed.


The End



Georgia on Their Mind



Wangombe was a bit pensive that morning. The middle-aged African man sat on a sturdy plastic chair in the airport lounge, waiting for the next flight which had been delayed to 10:30 A.M. Many thoughts were on his mind, mainly worries about the things he had to do that day, along with several duties to be accomplished before returning home. But what troubled him most was the fact he was unable to remember some of the events that had occurred the previous week while he was staying in Boston.

Actually, he remembered very well that he had encountered a very beautiful, local woman with dark curly hair, her name was Georgia, and they had had a brief love affair. But most of the recollections of that short relationship seemed to have been lost. How was that possible? ‘Am I becoming ill?’ he asked himself. ‘Is something affecting my mind?’ The only thing he had decided so far was to have a full check up as soon as he got back to his country in Africa.

He remembered some whispers, words spoken at night, his mouth descending on Georgia's neck as the two danced all night. The man would say that there was something more than those wondrous eyes, those moments he experienced, those beautiful features, but he simply couldn’t remember the rest. What a strange fact that such a brief love affair had left such sensations in him, that Georgia could make such feelings arise in him, while wavering on his mind so deeply. Maybe it was true what many said, ‘Love is like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it.’

Or maybe it was just that Georgia had left a very good impression on him, and the memory of her would stay in his mind for a long time.

---------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on a chair in the same Airport Lounge, opposite the one where the African middle-aged man was, the slender blonde curly-haired young woman was reading the daily newspaper on her tablet, glancing from time to time at the foreign individual who was waiting for his flight. She was clearly able to see that Wangombe didn’t recognize her, he didn’t remember her true features. All he knew were the false ones she had engraved upon his memory.

But she was also a bit sorry, not just for him but for herself. Among all the many men she had previously encountered because of her job, and that she had made fall in love with her for a short time, that African stranger held a special place in her heart. On the other hand, she knew she would never see him again.

“I could drown into your eyes…” he had told her the last night.

“The same for me…” she had replied.

“Would you come to visit my country” the man had asked the woman.

“I’ll do, one day or another…” she lay.

It was strange to think that Wangombe would always remember her as Georgia, and Georgia’s false features would stay on his mind for as long as he lived, exactly as she had wanted them to be, thanks to her psychic abilities.

Actually, her name wasn’t Georgia at all, but Bobbi Roberts and she worked for the government Special Missions Committee One. Being endowed with special powers, the same as all the others enlisted as agents in the office, she considered herself one of the real superheroes defending their homeland, even though she was unknown to the common people.

Individuals like Bobbi were working throughout the entire country, searching for the targets they were assigned to, making those people love them and acting as hidden spies in order to know all the secrets that those people had: all in the service of the foreign diplomatic corps. Of course, in order to accomplish their tasks, agents endowed with special powers like her had to stay in close vicinity with the subject they had to study, and there was no better way than to initiate a love affair. Afterwards, the woman took out of his mind the memory he had of her, and instilled into his head the false features of the lover he thought he had been with during that time…that was all! At times, however, things proved harder than usual, as today was going to be.

This was exactly the case with Wangombe, as he was a very handsome man from the diplomatic corps of an African country which was involved in many ongoing espionage activities and bloody wars. But as the middle-aged man would forget her true features forever, it wasn’t so easy for her. On the other hand, she thought she had really fallen in love with him, and she was unable to use her ability on herself to forget the feelings she had for him. How ironic it seemed!

He would never remember her real face, no matter how hard he tried, while Bobbi couldn’t forget his features, not now or for the future, of course.

Previously, Bobbi had done the same to Frank, the Antiguan businessman; to Prokhor, the Russian showman and to Takeo, the Japanese CEO, anyway. Also on their mind there was a Georgia at present…

Bobbi had willingly put her superpower at the service of her country, because she really believed in homeland security, but everything had its price. So this morning she sat in that Airport Lounge, in front of that man, in order to make sure that her job had been successful. Sad to say that it really seemed to be so, as Wangombe didn’t even recognize her, nor did he remember her true eyes and her blonde hair. He could only remember the false memory she had given him.

And the woman knew that no means existed in the world to reverse such a mental process. Sad, unfortunately, was also the saying of that famous American author: ‘What is once well done is done forever...’


The End

[kailhofer]

To vote, rate these stories using the form below with scores of 0-10 (in whole numbers) and send it to me via PM: (Copy it into memory, click the 'PM' button below my avatar (or depending on your board style, mouse over the green username by my avatar and a menu will pop up with an option to send a private message), paste the form in, & then fill in your scores.)

Categories:
1) What overall score would you give the story?
2) How good was the Characterization?
3) How effective (or original) was the plot?
4) How clear was the setting to you?
5) How good was the use of dialog?
6) How well did the story meet or address the challenge as it was given?

NOTE: you must have posted at least one message before you can send a PM. Join in a discussion or just say hi in a thread before voting via PM. If I suspect a voter of being a false identity (i.e. a troll), I won't count their vote.

Author scores for their own entry will not be counted.



Saving the World
1) Overall:
2) Characterization:
3) Plot:
4) Setting:
5) Dialog:
6) Challenge:

The Tale of Bob
1) Overall:
2) Characterization:
3) Plot:
4) Setting:
5) Dialog:
6) Challenge:

Georgia on Their Mind
1) Overall:
2) Characterization:
3) Plot:
4) Setting:
5) Dialog:
6) Challenge:

[kailhofer]

And I'm very sorry you couldn't change it. In all honesty, I would have ranked this one highest this month.

[kailhofer]

There are not a lot of votes in, but off to a head start this month is Verse!

Plenty of time to cast your ballot... but do it now. I mean, right now, or I'll lose all respect for you.

[Lester Curtis]

My votes have been sent.

[kailhofer]

Congratulations to Sergio Palumbo, winner of the Superhero Bob challenge for his story, "Georgia on Their Mind." Nicely done, sir.



For the record, these were the authors of the entries for this month:

Saving the World by I. Verse
The Tale of Bob by Richard Tornello
Georgia on Their Mind by Sergio Palumbo



SCORES: (Overall next to the story title, then the average score next to each question #.)




Saving the World : 271
1) Overall: 8
2) Characterization: 8
3) Plot: 8
4) Setting: 7
5) Dialog: 7
6) Challenge: 7
# Zeroes: 1
# Perfect 10s: 6

The Tale of Bob : 261
1) Overall: 7
2) Characterization: 7
3) Plot: 7
4) Setting: 7
5) Dialog: 8
6) Challenge: 7
# Zeroes: 0
# Perfect 10s: 4

Georgia on Their Mind : 275
1) Overall: 7
2) Characterization: 8
3) Plot: 8
4) Setting: 7
5) Dialog: 7
6) Challenge: 9
# Zeroes: 0
# Perfect 10s: 6

[Lester Curtis]

Congrats Sergio! Good job.

Here are my overall scores, and very limited comments:

Saving the World
score 50


The Tale of Bob
The most elaborate pun I've seen in a long while. I liked the detail about the cuneiform notepad on the nightstand.
score 47


Georgia on Their Mind
score 44

[Lester Curtis]

Whoa! I hadn't noticed the category numbers until Verse commented on it. A zero??!! For Verse??!! That's absurd! I'm not going to gush as much praise as Mark just did there, but anyone who gave Verse a zero has to have something wrong with him/her/it.

I think we've been infiltrated by terrorists. Must be Kim Jong Dunghead; he's trying to pick a fight with anyone lately.

Gimme a name; I'll go pay 'em a visit!

[kailhofer]

I would rather have my stories ranking amonst the other entires decided by a single honest editor or judge; Robert, Iain, McCamy, Lester, Rob, Dan...seriously!

You can't do it Nate and still be the moderator, unless you have a guest moderator while you judge.

Let's try an editor judge. That's what writers will have to face in the real world...a single skilled editor's judgement.

If you will try this Nate in next month's challenge, pick a guest judge from the list above, I will offer a $25.00 cash prize to the winner. If you do this, I will post my story into the forum instead of submitting it to remove in conflict of interest.

Mark,

You wear your emotions on your sleeve and I realize that you care about the writers here and the work they have done, but I don't think you realize the full import of the effect when they erupt. Frankly, I found them to be offensive.

I am the Flash Fiction Editor--and I was classically educated as an editor, too--and I am impartial. This challenge is run exactly the way I see fit. It is in my domain. I will not be doing a separate challenge as you propose, and there is already a cash prize that was donated for the next time out.

Rick is correct in that it is a secret vote for a reason. Only I see the votes, so only I know how everyone voted. You are not correct in your assumptions on who would give a zero, and I will not say who did. You are also not correct about the number of people who voted.

I will tell you all that the zero was given for the challenge category. The individual who voted felt that the story did not meet the criteria of a superhero in that all the individual's "superpowers" were that he didn't stand out and was immune to a virus. Said individual felt that didn't make him a superhero at all compared to many people. This is all I will ever say about it because I respect the right to privacy and to have whatever opinion we want. That is part of being impartial.

However, even if we were all to feel it was a dead-wrong outrage, that too is part of being a writer. Single, real-world editors can be unreasonable, too, and encountering those rejections is a part of getting the thick skin one needs to have in this business.

Verse is not a puppy--I'm pretty sure he can take it. But before him lie two choices that I can see: One, see that the voter may have had a point and try harder next time; or Two, learn from life's tender mercies that injustice can happen to a pooch.

Either would be a good lesson to learn, in the end.

[Lester Curtis]

Mark, I think your pressure gauge is in the red zone.

We've been over this ground before. I don't think Nate is doing a bad job, and truthfully, I wouldn't want it. I know my own shortcomings well enough to say that I don't think anyone else would want me doing it, either.

I won't defend the zero that Verse got, but Nate's explanation of it is something I identify with. I also thought that the Challenge part of Verse's story was weak, but I've seen worse. I figure that Nate would have kicked the submission if he thought it was altogether lacking in merit.

I have no direct experience with the world of professional paid publishing, but from what I hear, Aphelion is a vacation spa by comparison. Landing a contract is more like hitting the lottery than passing any kind of skill test. And you not only have to hit the lottery, you have to run the gauntlet, too. Relax and enjoy it here.

We have better things to do, like reading and commenting on this month's batch of stories so that Robert doesn't get pissed and threaten to quit.

[Lester Curtis]

Have you noticed there are NO new people? Only a handful of folks left. If you're satisfied with that and things keep going the way they are, you will be the lonely writer, who is submitting, editing, reading and commenting on his own stories. The Aphelion halls are already beginning to look vacant.

We have had a few new members just since the end of the spam era. True, they don't post much, but they might start to; you never know. And we've got a couple people here who just don't quit: Sergio seldom gets very high in the flash ratings, but he's always there; Michele almost as constant. Me, I throw one in about every five months or so, I think -- but I always vote, and I make an effort to comment. And as to the voting, I think there'd be even fewer voters if Nate hadn't instituted a penalty for not voting.

I'd like to see things be a little livelier here too, but I just can't think of anything to do to make that happen. Think about this: just about every month, we have stories by new authors, but not many of them get into the discussions very much. We can't force them to.

[Robert_Moriyama]

Gee, Mark, it used to be that you claimed that the spam deluge was the reason for nobody posting anything anywhere in the Forum... Now we have no spam (well, one or two in a month or more), but some people post mainly in the "Fun and Games" folder in topics of their own creation. And now you claim that the low number of participants and voters in Nate's challenges is due to widespread belief that there are "voting irregularities"? Sounds like the excuse Republican-run states used to justify rules that just happened to make it more difficult for people likely to NOT vote Republican to vote at all.

Participation in the challenges varies from month to month because some of those suckers are HARD, and people's lives may leave them without the creative energy and / or time required to meet the challenge in time. The number of voters is likely roughly proportional to the number of entries (in this case, 2 to 1 by your estimate), because voting is ALSO hard. It requires time and attention and effort to do it right, and people would rather not do it than do it in a haphazard way. Criticizing other voters because they happen to be more generous or less generous than you think to be appropriate assumes that YOUR judgment is "right" -- and assuming that recipients of those "inappropriate" votes feel as you do likewise assumes that YOUR feelings are the "right" ones.

Part of an author's job is to empathize with his / her characters, to understand how a particular individual would feel under particular circumstances. Simply applying what YOU feel to a character completely different from you would be, well, inappropriate; assuming that your feelings are what other challenge participants must feel is no better.

[Lester Curtis]

Mark, participation in the flash challenge varies from month to month. The very first one I participated in was Feb 2010, and I won it -- against TWO other entrants. So? Sometimes we get three stories; sometimes we get eight, but where I just see fluctuation, you seem to see decline.

There HAS been decline, but it mostly happened before I got here -- hell, there used to be annual Aphelion conventions. Wish I'd gotten here earlier; I missed the Golden Age of Aphelion -- but since I've been here, I haven't seen it change too much.

I'll say it again: I do miss the example stories that Nate used to write for the monthly challenges. Fine work, and they helped inspire me a time or two, though I'm really lousy at writing assignment pieces. And, I wish Bill and a few of the others would show up more often. Bill, especially, dammit; we need him, or someone like him.

Life changes, though, and we're not Analog or F&SF. I don't even remember how I found this place, which should tell you something about why participation isn't as high as you'd like it (hint: nobody knows we're here). You want more members? Take out an ad in the Sunday NY Times or something.

I think a lot of it is just a matter of priorities: most folks just have more important things to do than devoting an hour or two a day to this site.

You may think about getting what you wish for, too. Say we had twenty entrants in the flash each month. I will tell you exactly how many people would vote: twenty.

Here's an idea for something concrete that you can do, Mark -- there isn't enough long fiction coming in (none this month), so maybe you could write some for us.

[Lester Curtis]

About the long fiction, the last story you read was my best work to date, but it also made me nervous to write it. This was what Robert was trying to infer, that I couldn't think from different points of view when writing for characters. Well I did for that one and I still haven't shaken the essence of it.

But, I'll think about it.

Well, however you managed that last one, it had tremendous impact. Keep reaching for that deep stuff, whatever it's deep in. That's where the power is. I know it's scary; I know it hurts. The first time I had to kill one of my characters, it was traumatic to me. One of these days I'll have to figure out how to post that passage here (I don't have it in electronic form).

It gets a little easier to do, but it still hurts. That's good, though; if YOU don't feel it, then the reader won't, either. But try reaching for other emotions as well.

[Robert_Moriyama]

My point about the spam problem was that it apparently was NOT the cause for low participation in the commenting function of the Forum. It was your opinion that it drove people away, but now that we have stopped snapping our fingers to keep tigers away, I still don't see any tigers. I still feel that your attempts to pull people in with "games" do not serve to get more people to comment; at best, they get people to participate in the "games" INSTEAD of applying their time and energy to the purpose of the 'zine. Maybe the "Strengthening" games help to develop skills (including commenting skills), but they don't seem to generate new submissions to the 'zine or new comments.

Sadly, some of our best commenters have indicated through their posts that they have been experiencing problems that make it difficult for them to read (vision problems, etc.) or type. Others have become too successful at writing or in their paying jobs to spend much time here. I repeat: writing is hard. Commenting is hard. People are lazy (including me). Bread and circuses may amuse the crowds, but they don't get them to vote, or volunteer for the army. (Rodney: "Your majesty! The peasants are revolting!" King of ID: "I've always thought so.")

As for my last comment (to which you replied "Huh?") -- you assume that a low score must outrage authors or discourage them from entering challenges. But the core participants are accustomed to harsh criticism without explanation (viz. the typical form rejection note); at least Nate's voting system gives a HINT as to what some readers found to be the weak aspects of a story. The evidence suggests that participation is mainly related to the difficulty of the challenge (where "difficulty" may refer to the writing preferences of the Usual Pool of Entrants) and external factors (major holidays or busy personal lives). We could make every challenge easy (an oxymoron), but what would the point be?

[Robert_Moriyama]

My point about the spam problem was that it apparently was NOT the cause for low participation in the commenting function of the Forum. It was your opinion that it drove people away, but now that we have stopped snapping our fingers to keep tigers away, I still don't see any tigers.

Yes...it is (my pseudo nemesis/friend). The year long bout with spam alienated people and you can know this by the very few commentors in this forum issue. If it wasn't for Lester, it wouldn't be worth your time to review and make editorial changes to the now - what, 6 to 8 stories a month, when it use to be 10 for each issue.

I'm not chicken little here crying "fowl" over spam and malicious voters. I have never seen this few people involved with this zine...have you?

The spam definitely hurt our crowd and the few that are left now are mostly the die hard regulars. That spam problem could have been solved from the beginning, apparently easy, if you and others had put your mind to it, instead of excepting it as inevitable. I do however, appreciate your spam eliminating labors. I didn't have access codes or I would have done it myself. I DID offer many, (underline that word, many) suggestions that I researched and posted links to of other zines, who conquered the problem.

My concerns have been the eventual loss of Aphelion due to lack of participation. There were two reasons why I wouldn't invite people here (well three, if you count it would drive you nuts with so many of my friends here), and that was spam and the flash voting issues (the flash challenges would be the gateway to my introduction of them to the site.

I still feel that your attempts to pull people in with "games" do not serve to get more people to comment; at best, they get people to participate in the "games" INSTEAD of applying their time and energy to the purpose of the 'zine. Maybe the "Strengthening" games help to develop skills (including commenting skills), but they don't seem to generate new submissions to the 'zine or new comments.

I wasn't using games and interests to create new commentors, Robert. Commenting in the issues is your territory. My goal was to keep people interested, so they would not leave. I've been doing this for a long time with activities such as "The Sage of Witticisms", "Jokes" a satire themed alternate writing challenge and more. Not all of them hit, but I keep putting them out there.

Sadly, some of our best commenters have indicated through their posts that they have been experiencing problems that make it difficult for them to read (vision problems, etc.) or type. Others have become too successful at writing or in their paying jobs to spend much time here. I repeat: writing is hard. Commenting is hard. People are lazy (including me). Bread and circuses may amuse the crowds, but they don't get them to vote, or volunteer for the army. (Rodney: "Your majesty! The peasants are revolting!" King of ID: "I've always thought so.")

Not everyone should be doing the same job. I've concentrated on activities "other" than commenting and challenges. Why not? Commenting is not everyone's cup of Earl Grey tea. The more variety, the better.

As for my last comment (to which you replied "Huh?") -- you assume that a low score must outrage authors or discourage them from entering challenges. But the core participants are accustomed to harsh criticism without explanation (viz. the typical form rejection note); at least Nate's voting system gives a HINT as to what some readers found to be the weak aspects of a story. The evidence suggests that participation is mainly related to the difficulty of the challenge (where "difficulty" may refer to the writing preferences of the Usual Pool of Entrants) and external factors (major holidays or busy personal lives). We could make every challenge easy (an oxymoron), but what would the point be?

But what about new writers, if we should ever have any again. New writers are looking for affirmation that writing is worth their time. Sure, the usual crowd can take a punch, but new writers will likely fall away if they feel they have been cheated. I would rather you judge a story of mine, than have people vote in secret, where mischief may come into play. How many times have participants voted without reading or only scan a story or may even just pick numbers out of "the air" (I'm being kind) just to get the voting over fast? I don't trust it.

I'm trying to help. I don't do Facebook, Twitter etc. This is it! When Aphelion is gone...it's gone!

Once again, you persist in your claim that the spam was a primary driver in reduced participation in the Forum and in submissions. But you have no proof. You are still doing the "I said it, so it must be true" routine, and show no signs of stopping. Can you prove that your "games" actually draw any new interest, or even keep the regulars interested? No. The participants seem to be limited to a subset of the core audience, the most Usual of the Suspects. At least Nate's challenges have drawn a few entrants who are new to the whole business... even if they don't always participate. Your grasp of cause and effect seems a little weak -- not a good thing if you ever wanted to write "hard" science fiction. Post hoc, ergo propter hoc -- "after the thing, therefore because of the thing" -- is a common error, and even THAT doesn't apply here. How do you KNOW that spam discouraged people from visiting? If they didn't go to the Forum, they would never see it. If they went to the Forum, but never visited Administrivia, they would rarely have seen it. Most people aware of the spam problem were people who heard your complaints. Therefore "Mark complaining about something causes people to avoid Aphelion"? Hardly.

[Lester Curtis]

But what about new writers, if we should ever have any again. New writers are looking for affirmation that writing is worth their time. Sure, the usual crowd can take a punch, but new writers will likely fall away if they feel they have been cheated. I would rather you judge a story of mine, than have people vote in secret, where mischief may come into play. How many times have participants voted without reading or only scan a story or may even just pick numbers out of "the air" (I'm being kind) just to get the voting over fast? I don't trust it.

Mark, your reasoning in this statement has a plot hole in it. Notice that -- just like in this very thread -- when someone gets a score that feels all wrong, a two-page discussion ensues, and a bunch of different viewpoints and arguments come out. All the writer has to do is read the comments.

New writers who do a decent job get few comments. If one of them has a problem with something like lousy characterization, for instance, the commentary is likely to reflect that.

It's obvious by now that you don't trust the scoring. So --

ATTENTION ALL NEW WRITERS, PROSPECTIVE MEMBERS OF THIS SITE, ETC., BLAH BLAH: THIS IS THE INTERNET. SCORES IN THESE CHALLENGES ARE NOT WRITTEN ON A STONE TABLET BY THE FINGER OF GOD.

Besides, Mark, Verse himself said:

So, I did subvert the challenge somewhat and got called out on it. Fair enough.

[Lester Curtis]

This has gone far enough.

Thread locked.

[Lester Curtis]

All right, if anyone's still interested in posting further comments here, I think there's been adequate time for everyone to cool off.