I usually have a True Blood support group. Every Sunday I watch the show over a friend’s house. I recline into his comfy leather sofa and I prepare myself for what I’m about to watch. I didn’t suffer such a benefit this week. The friend spend the weekend in North Carolina, and the only interaction I had with him was picking him up from the airport.

This was bad news bears. Without my friend, my sponsor if you will, I was adrift. It was up to me to watch it. I have a wandering attention span on the best of days. Without my friend-sponsor-reprimanding influence, I am liable to refresh Facebook and ponder if I want to eat Cheez-Its or take a shower while Billy and Sookie and Viking Guy are prattling on.

It was tough to get through this week’s episode. Real tough.

Keep Reading »

Earlier today the Syrian Ministry of Defense’s website displayed a message from Anonymous. Perhaps I don’t follow the hacktivist group closely enough, but this seems like their most bold move yet. It’s one thing to mess with a corporation, but I can’t imagine the stupidity/balls to bring down a government website and replace it with a rambling regarding tyranny.

Keep Reading »

It’s a dope day for science here on Omega Level. This is some straight up Dr. Manhattan type shit here. A bunch of grad students at Rice University have found a way of rearranging carbon atoms, turning a box of girl scout cookies into $15 billion dollars.

Do explain? Happily.

Keep Reading »

If you follow this site, you know I love me some fringe science. Science that probably isn’t true in a zillion years, but has enough of a shred of evidence that it can tickle my Science-Fiction g-spot. How about multiple universes? Oh baby!

Keep Reading »

[DEFEAT. is presented in weekly episodes. the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy. Brian Galiano provides stunning original art for every episode. the end is nigh.]

I’ll never forget how he looked when I finally came face to face with him. Well, face to face with him again. Surely you know what I mean.

Don’t you?

It was just before 10AM when I came across Daryl Millar — just as I had planned it. His entrance at the pep rally would be about a half-hour later, so I figured this was the perfect time to reveal myself. Remembering the route he walked to school, I parked myself somewhere in the middle and waited.

He arrived right on time. Of course.

Before he saw me, his face was filled with fire. Not a blazing inferno of anger, but an inextinguishable torch of determination. There were no words that could persuade this hero to abandon his mission. Not that anyone else would have even approached him to try. After all, don’t forget that he was holding a goddamn sword. Not exactly an inviting image.

When I stepped in front of Daryl, he did not become upset. Perhaps somewhere deep inside, in the same viscera that told him to follow this course in the first place, he knew that I could not stop him. That I was not derailing his train of consequence, but offering a minor detour. With this comprehension in hand, he gave me an honest moment to speak my mind.

I told him who I was. He laughed at first. He told me I was just a pervert who hid in bushes and spied on high school students. I explained that I could understand his interpretation, as he had clearly spotted me on Monday, but that he was wrong. That I was who I was claiming to be. That given the revelations of the week, he should be more open to the idea.

And then I made an allusion to Crisis on Infinite Earths.

Daryl reconsidered his position. He looked as deeply into me as he could. Then he looked deeply within himself. I saw him thinking, considering all of the existential convergences. Intercourse under his belt. A sword that had traveled the world. A genuine gypsy mystic. Visions in basements and coffee shops. Friends in need. An adversary to defeat. His grandfather’s approval for whatever. A final word of warning coming from a traveler from afar. It all clicked.

Universal sequence complete.

We both acknowledged the surreality of the situation. I wanted to say something more to him, but didn’t. He offered his condolences about my right leg. He said goodbye and trudged ahead.

He hadn’t moved more than twenty paces when I called after him. Again, I knew it was useless but couldn’t help myself.

“Daryl! Wait! Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

He stopped but didn’t turn around. Over his shoulder, he called out to me. “Did you enjoy our conversation?

“Yes. Very much.”

“And do you enjoy the ability to have such conversations?”

“Of course! It’s my life’s work — everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Then you know what I have to do.” He continued walking. “Besides, nothing’s stopping you from speaking with me again.”

I watched him unsheathe the goddamn sword and take a sneak preview of its glory. Walking down his chosen path, he was all right.

All right forever.

– E.B.

I always jokingly remark that I’m a scientist. This is usually what I say when I push something, it buzzes loudly, and then I push it again. Or I want to drop an apple off the floor. Or something. Compared to this gentleman, I am nothing. This good man was doing fission experiments. At home. God love him.

Keep Reading »

Last night’s episode of True Blood was an obvious homage to Shakespearean notions   of the Forest. A world filled without rules, which character depart into to exercise their darkest desires. Without the constraints of society, in the comforting sanctity of trees and creaks and shit, vampires and faeries can fuck to their heart’s content. Balls-swinging, butt-bumpin’ mossy bark grindin’ fucking.

Keep Reading »

[DEFEAT. is a   coming-of-death novella. every week a new episode pops up, accompanied by an original Briano Galiano illustration. for fans of science fiction, fantasy, video games, comics, war epics, and feats of triumph]

The birds started chirping. The sun climbed with resolve, hurtling over the horizon with Olympian ease. The timer on the automatic coffee machine hit its limit and began brewing black inspiration. It was almost as though they had all taken part in a conspiracy, a plot to ensure a perfect beginning to an essential ending.

Did the birds, the sun, and the coffee machine actually know what a monumental day this was to be? No.

But Daryl Millar knew. He knew that this was the most important day of his life. He knew that on this day, he and his closest friends would celebrate together. He knew that they would revel in exultation only possible with immense sacrifice. He knew that this would be the last day of his life.

Daryl Millar woke up. He pulled open the shades and let himself be bathed in golden rays of wonder. He laughed to himself, thinking just how perfect this day would be. It all made so much sense, there was an undeniable purpose at hand.

Bending to one knee, the hero reached under his bed. With great respect, Daryl drew out a sacred tool. An instrument his grandfather had bequeathed unto him. The weapon that Clark Millar had pried from the dead hands of his last mortal enemy.

Daryl Millar held in his hands a goddamn samurai sword.

And in a few hours he was going to plunge it right into his own heart.

Yesterday the  House Judiciary Committee  voted to pass a data-retention bill. This bill will require your ISP to spy on everything you do online and save your actions for twelve months. Every click, every keystroke. I don’t know if this is legal, but it sure frightens the crap out of me.

Keep Reading »

I saw a UFO a couple of nights ago. It was the damndest thing. I saw a UFO. I saw it. Miniscule, a star in the sky. I saw it. Nothing but an orange spec. I saw a UFO. I saw it spiral through the evening sky. Spinning in improbable circles. I’m telling you. It was the damndest thing. One moment a single orange star in the evening, the next moment a bright slash cutting across the sky. Quickly and with purpose.   Spiraling through unseen loops, an orange blur across a midnight expanse.

Keep Reading »