Read Sample Writings by Murdock

Currently I have a short ebook called "Simon's Beautiful Thought" available on Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing and Smashwords. Here is a preview of the story.

After the preview is a summary of the short stories in my new Anthology, coming out March 2012.

“I love you Simon. I wish I didn’t, but I do. It’s destiny, as if I were made for you.” She looked up at Simon, her eyes big, twinkling, passionate, and tracking him perfectly. He felt as if he could fall into them.

“I love you too,” Simon said. “But sometimes, love is not enough. Sometimes, loving someone, is just not-- right.”

“I know,” she said shyly, “but still, I love you. I just do. You’ve simply made me be that way.”

Simon held his “smart” phone in front of him. He had named his personal AI, “Sandy”. The image of Sandy, his cell phone’s six generation Artificial Intelligence avatar, was on the screen before him looking just a touch, lascivious. He liked it, he had to admit that. Sandy was the current evolution in a series of progressively more sophisticated software programs that began with “Siri” on the old iPhone platform.

After that, all the other cell phone companies had jumped on board with their own AI “flavors”. Each owner’s AI assistant would tailor itself to that individual, learning over a period of a week and then becoming ever more progressively attuned until it was perfectly meshed with what that owner required of it.

After a few generations of this type of software, these AI’s had morphed from mere personal digital assistant, to full blown knowledgebase “worms”, going out on the internet to find needed information, then also perform analysis and clarification. Then they grew to near therapist capability and beyond that esthetically to friend.

These AI’s were backed up regularly so that even if you lost your phone you could simply get a new phone, download your personally grown AI and off you’d go. There were even instances of the phone having been lost or stolen and the AI finding its way back to the owner; one way or another. There were social myths and rumors that have even purported that some AI’s had been somewhat questionable in their “behavior” in order to get back “home” to their owners.

There was really only one real concern about these AI’s. That some people might become too attached. But for the most part, this hadn’t been much of an issue. After all, you couldn’t touch it, hold it in your arms, or have children with it. And with Simon, his new phone had actually gotten him to go out of the house more. It would seem that it was socializing him more, not less.

 Simon was a good looking guy. He was a smart guy. But he was kind of an introvert. He usually sported a hat, liked basic black and loved his sunglasses. When he could he wore black leather gloves, but only when it seemed to fit the situation. People who met him were usually amazed and amused and wanted to be around him. He was, in a word—cool. He was clever and a friendly conversationalist, although he frequently lost people in their interactions. Simon also had money. He wasn’t rich, rich, but he was pretty well off.

Simon liked the classics. He drove a 1994 Volvo 850 Turbo, because it was one second faster 0-60 than the Jaguar that came out that same year. And this model Volvo was their largest engineering effort to that date; all in in effort to impress the American public. He owned a house that had been built way before he was born. But inside, it was decorated all in high tech and antiques. It was a good device. After all, no one would have thought to break into his home expecting to find much. But his artwork was impressive. Ancient Japanese wood block prints; old art by little known but famous artists that he found and bought for very, very little.

There was just a problem with Simon’s interpersonal skills; being that they were on the order of a serious nerd. And Simon was a serious nerd. A seriously smart nerd who had spent all his life in pursuit of interests that had left him disregarding those social skills that typically got a guy the girl. But there are ways to rectify that. So for the past few years he had actually been emotionally attached to his full sized and very realistic, female doll that he had named, “Grace”.

One can fix the problem, or fix the symptoms. And symptoms after all, are generally easier and faster to deal with.

“Grace” was fully articulated and wholly functional in those-- “certain” ways.  Simon loved this doll; but in the end, she wasn’t real, and mostly he knew that. He knew it wasn’t love, but a displaced passion for someone that simply didn’t exist in his life. And so, when he got his new AI enhanced phone, he found that “Sandy” was a step up in sophistication and satiation. Although not physically in three dimensions like Grace, for Simon, Sandy could stimulate far more than what Grace ever could. After all, the real erogenous zones are all in the mind.

Another feature of this new gen AI, available through an add-on app, were animations of Sandy “doing” things. That is for instance, if Simon was watching TV he could look at the phone and “see” Sandy watching the same TV show on the phone’s screen. They could even talk about it, discussing and interacting about the show.

Wearing a special set of glasses using a “Blue Squared” video technology called “B2”, Simon was able to “see” Sandy while sitting in front of him, or next to him in a “Heads Up Display” configuration; eliminating having to use the screen on the phone. So if he was having lunch in a restaurant, he could wear these glasses and see her sitting right there across the table from him, as if she were actually having lunch with him. Since they also served as sunglasses, when entering an darker situation he could either wait thirty seconds for the shading to clear up, or simply tap the frames to adjust the clarity.

 Since Sandy could access the information of the restaurant online, including the menu, she could choose her meal and the only thing that really wouldn’t happen was that her meal wouldn’t be charged to Simon’s credit card. Because of the ear “buds” and the filtering of the glasses, literally no one could tell that Simon was carrying on a conversation, or a relationship, with Sandy, unless he actually made it obvious.

Simon had never been very good with women, so Grace had given him the “love and affection” he had always desired without the stress of actually having to be with a real, live woman. Of course he was essentially in love with himself since Grace was inanimate and had no responses to him other than what he manipulated out of her. But now Sandy had taken over giving Simon the emotional attention he thought he was getting from Grace. So that for now, Grace was literally in the closet; cleaned up but always available should he need more “real”, physical encounters.

As far as Simon was concerned, Sandy came up with her own reactions, her own opinions and her own, “desires”. The only thing Simon didn’t fully understand was that Sandy was only a more sophisticated version of his life sized doll. After all, “she” really was fully tailored to who Simon was and what he needed. It had only been automated. If only he could blend the two, he would have the perfect life mate. And that, should be coming any year now.

Simon wore his ear buds so only he could hear Sandy because even he knew that if anyone else realized what he was doing, he would be considered pretty weird to the overall public. In general, those who displayed too much of a relationship with their AI’s were thought to be more than just a little socially inept and social pariahs. In fact it was considered degenerate. But then, Simon had a life sized doll too, didn’t he?

Since lunch had sounded pretty good, Simon told Sandy he would “take her to lunch” at a nice family run Thai restaurant that he had been frequenting. But he hadn’t been back since Sandy had, “moved in”. He (they?) was (were?) seated at his regular table, a little off from the other diners in the room. Simon took his hat off and set it on the seat next to him. Then he looked across the table and-- there was Sandy. He smiled, observing just how lovely she was; every movement was sweetness.

Simon looked around the restaurant for the waitress. He could see through the kitchen door window where Suchin, the daughter of the owners, was talking to her father, the chef. She was a very beautiful young waitress; short, thin and graceful in that way of Thai girls. Simon could see that her father must have stopped her on the way out of the kitchen. They seemed to be having a heated discussion about something. Even from this distance, he felt sorry for her.

Parents could be so hard on their kids sometimes, Asian parents sometimes especially so. She certainly seemed distressed. Her father suddenly walked away, slowly shaking his head. Then she composed herself and came into the dining area. As she walked up to Simon he couldn’t see any inkling of her recent confrontation. Professional.

He always thought she could do so much better than being a mere waitress, but her loyalty to her family was admirable. She could easily have been a model. She was, as always, both bright and demure. She seemed to light up a little when she got close to him.

‘How does she do that,’ he wondered, ‘maybe she could be an actress, too? I wonder if she sings?’ Simon had always been intrigued her but he knew that was as far as it could go. She was after all, quite obviously beyond his level.

“Simon. Hi. We haven’t seen you around in a while. It’s nice to see you again.” Simon could tell she liked how he was looking at her. She hesitated. “Are you ready to order now?” Suchin’s English was clear and understandable to him. But she had such a beautiful accent, something he always found captivating.

“Hi Suchin. I’ve just been busy is all. I hope you have been well. I think I’ll have my usual, please,” Simon said a little nervously. ‘Why, am I nervous? I have Sandy,’ he thought to looking over at her briefly.

“Very good, Phad Thai it is, with tofu, right? Four star on the heat and Thai Tea?” Simon smiled and nodded.

“Gotta have that Thai Tea if the heat gets too much.”

“Absolutely. Okay. Thank you. And it’s nice to see you again, Simon. Don’t be such a stranger.” She smiled at him, almost flirting. “Just let me know if you want—anything else. I’ll be back soon. Enjoy.”  Simon smiled back at her but felt a little uncomfortable. Why? He stole a quick glance at Sandy, who was smiling at him, watching him, almost, studying him. She didn’t seem to notice his flushed cheeks, his increased heart rate, and she couldn’t notice his more obvious arousal beneath the table.

“Uh, sure,” he grinned, “thanks—so much.” She touched his table gingerly, hesitated, smiled again, then turned around to walk away. It was obvious she was attracted to him-- for some reason. Before she could take a step away, Simon stammered out a question that seemed to leap uncontrollably from his mouth.

“Ex-excuse me,” he said. She stopped, turning to look at him without facing him, a curious look on her face, beckoning him to continue. “I don’t mean to intrude but, is everything—okay?” Suchin looked confused, then snapped a look at the kitchen door and realization crossed her face. She turned and looked down, then directly into Simon’s eyes. His heart fluttered in his chest. Her face was blank but her eyes said ‘thank you for asking’. Simon was surprised by the compassion, not so much from him, but from her.

“Yes. I’m fine. It’s just-- my father. He’s so stuck in, old ways,” she smiled. “It’s no big deal, really, nothing more than most Thai daughters have to deal with.” Simon nodded, egging her on. He could see her thoughts of privacy, melting. “My parents want me to take over the restaurant. It’s just that I want more than this. The problem is, Thai children are raised to do their parent’s bidding. I’m trapped in a dilemma, I suppose.” She thought for a moment. Simon looked over at Sandy. She didn’t seem to be listening. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing, really. I’ll go put in your order now. But thank you for asking. That was so kind of you.”

“No please, Suchin,” Simon said, wanting to keep her presence close. He closed his eyes remembering, “‘Parents lend children their experience and a vicarious memory; children endow their parents with a vicarious immortality.’”

Suchin stared into Simon’s eyes, seeming to be momentarily lost there; most likely trying to digest what he meant by what he just said.

“Oh.” She hesitated. “That’s so poignant, Simon.” Simon flushed red to his cheeks.

“Yes,” he said, embarrassed, “George Santayana. A philosopher said that. But you have to live your life, this is America.” Suchin smiled warmly. For a moment, Simon felt a connection with her he had never felt before.

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. It’s so true, but—“ her face saddened, probably thinking about her parents. “Thank you, Simon. I’ll be fine. I--I need to put in your order.”

Simon couldn’t help but watch her petite form glide away. She moved with grace and quite an attractive walk. Suchin disappeared into the kitchen. Just as the door was closing behind her Simon couldn’t help but notice as she turned to look at him one last time. Then the door shut, breaking the spell. Simon wiped his forehead and noticed it was a little moist. Guiltily, he turned his attention back to Sandy. She was still watching him, attentive but silent.

“So--” he said, “What did you order?” She smiled in reaction, looked at her menu, then back up at him, pulling the tall menu toward her.

“Phad Thai,” she said. Sandy giggled, having chosen the same thing he had. She put her menu down. Simon didn’t really notice anymore when something like the menu, no longer needed, simply melted into the tabletop once it had become superfluous.

“Good choice,” he said. “Would you mind helping me do some research later? I have to finish this paper on super lossless audio and new forms of compression.” Simon was an audiophile blogger, among other things, and somewhat popular among that crowd.

“Of course, Simon. Anything you want, you know that,” she said. “I love helping you with your research. It’s—invigorating.” She smiled and touched her lips with her right index finger in a barely sensual manner.

Simon had to wonder, had she seen how the waitress was reacting? Was this Sandy being—jealous? Well, it could be worse, certainly. But it seemed uncharacteristic of her to act this way, so quickly into a scenario. Something was, off.

“It—turns me on, Simon.” She lowered her hand from her mouth, down along her neck, not overtly so but deftly, slowly. Perfection. Just as her finger tips would have reached her breasts she lowered her hand onto her lap.

‘Deftly maneuvered,’ Simon thought. He was wondering what was going on. He had tried on a new cologne today? ‘I wonder,’ he thought, ‘but then, Sandy couldn’t “smell” a cologne. Right?’

“Do you—really love me?” he asked her.

“Of course I do, Simon,” she said, “you’re the perfect man for me. Perfect.”

“Yes, of course,” Simon said, perfunctorily.

“Simon,” Sandy said, “do you love me?”

Just then, almost scaring Simon, the Suchin returned with his Phad Thai and set the plate down before him and his Thai Tea next to that. He had completely lost track of where they were. Sandy was impeccable at drawing his full attention. He looked around briefly to regain his bearings.

“There you go,” she said. “Will there be anything else?” She put her hands flat against her skirt, as if to smooth it out, but there was something he found erotic about it, slightly subservient, demurely attractive. For a moment, Simon completely forgot he was with Sandy. He was starting to feel disoriented.

“Um,” he looked at Suchin, then quickly back over at Sandy, and then back again to the Suchin. “No, thank you.”

“You don’t love me?” Sandy asked, pouting.

“No, yes! Of course I do.” He said, visibly shaken. He looked back at Sandy, she was smiling, licking her lips and eyeing him seductively, knowingly.

“I’m sorry, which is it?” Suchin said, confused.

To be continued?

"Simon's Beautiful Thought" available on Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing and Smashwords.

"Anthology of Evil" in post production now - preview - coming March 2012

Anthology of Evil is a compilation of short stories I have written and in some casses rewritten over years. Here is a summary of what they are all about.

"In Memory, Yet Crystal Clear" – is a previously published Science Fiction tale of how one man can change the world. This was my first short story ever to get published in a magazine way back in 1992. It is a work of Social Horror. I have updated it for this book as the technology in it as it was getting dated. I had also updated it before it was originally published as I had written it some years even previous to that, in the 80s. Originally it was written as a dare, a lark, a challenge, when I had jokingly said one day to some friends while we were partying together one night, that I could make any storyline plausible. Due beware of making such claims as it was a lot of work from then on.

They took me to task on this. I said for them to choose any concept they thought couldn't be made to work and I would write it. It was just for fun, and as an exercise; a challenge. I also wrote it in an attempt to purge myself of writing in my typical style. Those friends had said that they liked my stories but they had two problems back then. They didn’t understand half of what I was saying; and I never put an ending to a story.

So I decided that after I finished writing this story, I would simplify my style. But I would enjoy myself one last time. This was before I started college and I was insecure in my writing skills. For all intents and purposes, this story should never have gotten published; it was supposed to be an unwriteable concept and I wrote it in a style that shouldn’t have sold well.

Software I had run it through years later (which hadn’t existed at the time I wrote it), had said it was written at grade level seventeen when it should have been nine through twelve. But then, publishers always underestimate their audience. Years after it was written, I sent it out with all my other stories as short story writers do, trying to find the right audience and magazines to sell to. Over that time I had tweaked it a bit, as you are always getting better at what you do over time.

I must have done a fairly good job on it as it was the first one to get a bite from a publisher. It’s just ironic that it had two major reasons why it should never have worked and yet became my first ever published short story. The publisher wrote back and said he liked it and if I would cut 1500 words he would publish it.

I found a section that was almost exactly 1500 words and though it added to the flavor, it wasn’t integral to the telling of the story. So, I cut it and he published it. I have since put that section back in as I have the room now for it. It is the section at the character Peter’s home, if you are interested. To be honest, I was incensed at the time of cutting any of the story. But my son’s mother admonished me to take a look, then complain. She was right, the publisher was right and it got published.

"Gumdrop City" was published in 2010 in Zilyon Publishing’s “The Undead Nation Anthology”. It is a horror story, pure and simple. I originally heard about from a Professor in my University Abnormal Psych class. He told it to us as a psychological study. It is however, a true crime story. I fictionalized the father and daughter in it, as well as a few other things but once you walk through a certain door, the fundamentals there are despicably true. I have since worked up a treatment for this story as a screenplay with the help of a Hollywood Producer. So it is possible that one day, this short story could hit the silver screen.

"Quantum History" was done as a friendly experiment between three friends to choose a theme and write it, then compare stories. It is a Science Fiction Comedy for all intents and purposes. There are two other versions of this theme floating about and I'm willing to bet that other than mine, those other two will never see the light of day.

“The London Mea Culpa Document” is a document about the document called “The Mea Culpa Document”. It is a one page description from the “authoritative journal” it was published in.

"The Mea Culpa Document" following the “London” piece, was originally written back in college with the help of a Theater Professor who is into Medieval Literature (he also helped me with “Poor Lord Ritchie”, see below). It is a story about a great burden that an idealistic Witch Hunter has to bear in the Medieval Ages in England. Mea Culpa documents used to be documents that some used to write out all their sins and then typically burn them. But in this case, this document was stored for posterity, for reasons that will be made clear.

Over time I ended up writing another story based on this document that I started to build into a novel, but have yet to finish it. That has happened several times to me; meaning that I have several unfinished novels laying around. One of them is in a format similar to Stephen King's epic novel, "The Stand". The story I wrote based on “The Mea Culpa Document” I’ve titled, “Vaughan’s Theorem" and is in my next book coming out soon. “Vaughan’s Theorem” is about the scholar who finds the document and how it adversely affected his life.

"Poor Lord Ritchie's Answer to a Question He Knever Knew (on the Night that the Knight Lost All)”, was chosen by actor Rutger Hauer (as the “Replicant Roy Batty” in the Ridley Scott film, “BladeRunner” and so many other films) as a winner in his International Short Story contest that he ran for two years back in the late 1990s. I entered it because I just knew that he would like this story most out of all of my stories. It is a surreal tale of a confused Medieval Lord who has been abused by genetics and his position. It is about a man lost and his descent into either temporal displacement, or madness; in the end, let it be your decision.

When Rutger read the story, it had only three acts. It now has more, neatly wrapping up the ending that I could never quite figure out back then. After my University Professor read it, he had wanted to do it as a one man stage show, and he would have been brilliant in it, too. But I was never able to get the play just right and then I graduated and it simply never came to be.

“Sarah” has now been built into my screenplay, "HearthTales" which I've been sending out to production companies. Sarah is a woman lost in the misery and dementia of Alzheimer's Disease. I had heard some examples of what it was like to live with someone suffering from this disease, from a girl in, once again, my Abnormal Psych class at our University. She told me about her grandmother and some of her experiences. They were such moving stories that I had to find a way to share them. 

“The Fall” was a recent exercise in an online writer’s group I participate in; one of several. Another story, “Simon’s Beautiful Thought” (on Amazon KDP and Smashwords) was another exercise coming out of that group, just previous to “The Fall”. “Simon” was about obsession. “The Fall” is about madness or the descent into it, depending how you take it. It is about how romance can intertwine with insanity to lead to the worst of all possible of life events.

“Japheth, Ishvi and The Light” is my first attempt at a full blown Zombie story. It is based on the Biblical tale of Abraham and his son Isaac and is about the religious commune they live in. Throw in some devastating confusion, a few soldiers, God, and well, there you have it.

"Andrew" is the a small novel, a story of a very young boy, the child of a very brilliant married couple who were also rather unusual scientists. It is a story about how Andrew tries to deal with an event more traumatic than anyone should ever have to experience, no matter what age they are. This is then juxtaposed with how he learned to deal with it as an adult, who he developed into by that point in his life, and where his parent’s efforts end him up. Yes, there is certainly a lot more than that going on.

I hope you find these tales as entertaining to read as I found them to write.