The Flying Wire

The wind turned hard northeast — bad for hang gliding in the Bay Area — so it seemed like a good time to produce that FAQ list I’ve been promising for so long. And I must say, it was quite an interesting task. Oh, it would have been easy enough to throw together a dull bunch of factoids — i.e.

Q: What holds an airship up?
A: Hydrogen

Q: Doesn’t that… like.. burn?
A: Yes, if you mix it with oxygen and set it on fire. This is generally considered a Bad Move in the airship community.

But who’d want to read something like that? I wanted to something more substantial, with useful background information, tidbits of material that wouldn’t fit into the 1930s cliffhanger format of the story itself, and detailed answers to some of questions you’ve asked about the history, people, and technology of Captain Everett’s world. I also wanted to add some graphics because they’re fun.

‘Tis done! And it’s living here. This will be an ongoing project, so if you have any questions, comments, ideas, or requests, let me know. And keep an eye out for points of departure between the world of the Flying Cloud and ours! So far, the prize goes to Chris, who was the first to notice that in out world, animated cartoon ducks did not appear until the mid to late 30s.

I hope the rest of you had an interesting Thanksgiving too.

I hadn’t originally intended to include graphics. I assumed that humanity’s need for airship fiction was so great and the worldwide demand for online serial dramas about hypothetical Royal Navy lighter-than-air operations in the South Pacific in the 1920s of a world that might have been was so urgent and overwhelming that there was no reason for such embellishments. But when my ex-girlfriend learned of this project, she said, “You should draw pictures too.”

I have no idea why she made this suggestion, for she’d never seen any of my old art. I used to be able to draw (see How Ejection Pods Work, for one of the few surviving examples), but then I contrived to break my arm, over and over again, and the succession of injuries took its toll. Human figures seemed out of the question. And unusual perspectives promised to be a challenge. But heck, I thought, a few sketches of airships and equipment can’t hurt.

At first it was disheartening. I’d struggle over some simple sketch, remember how easily my pencils used to glide across paper back before that third or fourth broken bone, and feel a twinge of regret. But Fleming’s glider was fun, that cassowary came out much better than I expected, and by the time I finished coloring the Number One Engine Car in Sky is Empty, I’d begun to look forward to the drawing almost as much as the writing. There were most certainly some disasters, such as the Infamous Green Marine of Episode 13, but heck, surely the Royal Navy has a place in its ranks for zombies. (Zombie… Lance-Zombie… Colour-Zombie… Zombie-Major… Warrant Zombie… et cetera)

The question I have for you, Noble Readers, as Season One approaches its climax, is… do you enjoy the graphics? Do you feel that they add to the story? Would you like to see slightly a larger format – say, 600×360 rather than 500×300? And which ones were your favorites? This will give me some idea where to go with Season Two. Of course, if the Infamous Green Marine ends up heading the list, I’ll have to change my name, flee to Sarah’s Island, and spend the rest of my days hiding from the world on some distant tropical beach, sipping drinks with little paper umbrellas in them.

The votes are in, and the results were overwhelming; pretty much every agrees that Clouds are better than Things, and it would be nice to have two Clouds per week, provided that they remain of sufficient quality. Which was quite the convoluted sentence wasn’t it? I’m rather proud of it. But I digress.

I quite agree with the vote. The List of Interesting Things has been fun. And I still have a few more things waiting in the wings. But it can also be a bit of a chore, and I’d much rather spend that effort on the Flying Cloud. There’s that FAQ list people have asked for. There’s that set of specifications for the R-505 I don’t dare post until I’ve had a chance to add graphics to relieve what might otherwise be a tedious collection of numbers and tables. And there’s also the historical background of Captain Everett’s world, which differs from our own in certain subtle but crucial ways — such as the earlier development of animated ducks, which was delayed by a decade in our timeline because the relevant artists died during the Ludendorff Offensive.

So Interesting Things will go on temporary vacation while I devote more time to The Flying Cloud to prepare for Season Two. If I can get enough material ready, I may try a few biweekly chapters to see how they work out. If not, I’ll stick with once per week, and do my absolute best to keep the quality high.

Now if only I could find time to redraw the Infamous Green Marine in Episode 13…

One of the neat things about Web pages is the ease with which they can be revised. With traditional writing, once something’s printed, you’re pretty much stuck with it, errors and all. Unless you’re first name is Walt, your last name is Whitman, and you want to spend the rest of your career making changes to Leaves of Grass. But with Web pages, you can go back and say, “Hmm, I’ve been drawing MacKiernan with red hair ever since Episode 24, but I said here in Episode 2 that his mustache was black. Oops!” or, “Gee, I really ought to move the horizontal stabilizers on the graphic for Episode 16 up to the midline of the ship where they belong.”

This is way cool.

A responsible author would use this capability with restraint, aware of its potential for misuse. But restraint has never been one of my virtues, and as we all know, the word ‘misuse’ is but another a synonym for ‘temptation’. So I’ve gone through the Flying Cloud every few weeks to make sure that things like hair color, service ranks, and dates (!!!) were consistent. Along the way, I’ve tried to clean up some of the more unfortunate bits of prose. Among these was pretty much all of Episode 4. Which has just received major changes. If considered leaving an old copy up so people could compare them… but… such is not the way of a signalman in the Royal Navy Air Service!

The Flying Cloud began as a pastime. And it remains a pastime in the all-important sense that it’s written for the enjoyment of my friends. But as the months passed, it occurred to me that it also might be fun to include a few ads. One consideration was practical, for web hosting is not free (though if I became World Emperor, I’d make sure that airship fiction was supported as public service!). Another was educational, for it’s always fun to learn new things, and as a child of an earlier and more primitive era (grunt snort), this whole business of Affiliate Programs, Pay Per Click, and the like was new to me. Then there was the technical challenge of integrating ads into a site that had not originally been intended to support them. This has came off better than I expected, and I may write a post about the experience if I can think of a sufficiently entertaining way to do this.

But as the Great Revision progressed, I realized that one of the most important considerations was cultural. After all, we expect to see ads in graphical media. Without them, a site seems strangely naked, like an aircraft without insignia, or a race car without sponsors’ decals. One doesn’t want to overdo things, of course. I’m sure we’ve all seen sites where one’s first response is, “Well, yes, this is all very well, but where’s the frigging content?” It’s also important to steer clear of the Gross Photo-shopped Weight Loss Ads – you all know the ones I mean. And the folk who overuse that ‘cover part of the page with a fake window and blank the rest’ Javascript should be sold as food animals to creatures that like to toy with their prey. But there’s some great art out there – material that can ad variety to a site – and I’ve made some great discoveries among the webcomics that show up on Project Wonderful.

So what do you all think? Do a few ads in the leaderboard and sidebars make this look more like a for-real web site? Or should I abandon my career in web marketing and return to my nefarious plans for world conquest?

You readers of The Flying Cloud are noted for your keen powers of observation, penetrating intelligence, timeless wisdom, and razor-sharp wit! So you will surely have noticed that this is actually three sites: The Flying Cloud, R-505, the List of Interesting Things, the Online Writing List, and Flight to the Borderlands. Wait a second… one two three four… make that four sites. Borderlands is, of course, complete. Though I may someday tell the tale of the next flying trip to Big Sur if there is sufficient demand. And I have plans for Online Writing. This leaves the Flying Cloud and Things.

When I began them, both were equally popular — indeed, Things may even have had the edge, thanks to those ever-popular Vikings. But the world moves on, and now more seem to prefer Captain Everett and his crew. Indeed, some of you have even asked if The Flying Cloud could appear twice a week.

This is surely possible, though it might have to wait for Season Two, when I hope to replace the primitive HTML and iframes (ick) with a for-real server-side content management system… and also master the use of fire. But since there is a limit to fast I can create graphics, this would almost come at the expense of new Things. So the question I have for you, Noble Readers, is…

…which would you prefer? Are you happy with the current schedule of Flying Cloud on Mondays and a new Interesting Thing every Thursday, or would you gladly sacrifice a few things so you could have more clouds in your lives? (Hmm… that didn’t come out quite the way I expected.) Let me know, and consider your choice wisely, for the future of humanity may hinge upon your decision!

How could this happen, you ask? Well… Earth could get invaded by aliens who threaten to consume us as food animals if we can’t provide them with airship stories. Or some powerful blimp-like life-form could evolve that Really Enjoys reading humorous essays about our administrative procedures.

It was an ordinary summer afternoon — unremarkable, with nothing to look forward to but an ordinary dinner, an ordinary evening, and some blanks hours of sleep before another long day of meetings and paperwork. In search of renewal, I decided to drive to the coast, sit next to the ocean, and listen to the waves. Then it occurred to me… “Gee,” I thought, “there’s no rule that says I can’t sit above the beach and listen to the waves. And my paraglider is sitting right there in the closet.”

Minutes later, I was loading my gear into the back of the Crimson Brick, my ancient and venerable (and white) Jeep Grand Cherokee, for a session of ‘above the beach sitting’. The drive to Pacifica — against the commute — went swiftly, the hike from the parking lot was full of anticipation, and soon I was laying out my canopy, shrugging on my harness, and preparing to fly.

There are those who claim that paragliding at the coast, dawdling in front of the cliffs in smooth steady ridge lift, is almost as tedious as sitting in traffic. And it’s true that it might not present many technical challenges. But I hadn’t come in search of challenges; I’d come in search of peace. Launch was easy, uneventful: a moment to get clear of the terrain, tug the right brake, turn parallel to the ridge, and then I was heading south and climbing.

It was like some childhood dream of flight. The air was cool, but not too cool. The sun was bright, but not too bright. Below me, an endless succession of waves marched in from the west to crash against the shore with a roar I could hear quite clearly from the air. To the east, the sounds of the city were muted, forgotten, borne away by the wind. With few other gliders to avoid, and no significant hazards to worry about, I was free to relax, enjoy the view, and forget — about paperwork, deadlines, politics, all the petty stresses and betrayals of the mundane world.

How long does a flight like that last? By the clock, it lasted an hours – long enough to watch birds flock homeward and shadows shift as the sun sank toward the sea. But in some true sense it has never ended, for the memory lives on…