Virtual Quill

While testing the theoretical portal leakage (I do need to think of the better name for that!), I examined the immediate vicinity of the portals that Fenton and I know about within a fifty mile radius of Domain. I was looking for electromagnetic signals and background radiation that were not detectable elsewhere. Astonishingly, I did locate some around one portal that I know goes back to the mid-20th century of our own world. The signals turned out to be from ham radio operators, and since I don’t want to change the past in any way I’m not going to send any signals back.
So, to quote Jamie and Adam on “Mystbusters,” this can be filed under “Plausible.” The signals carrying my blog don’t go near that portal I tested, but come close to one whose destination is a mystery to me. As a regular viewer of the various “Stargate” series I’m reticent of poking my head through there; who knows what’s on the other side???
The question now is whether to continue this blog. After some consideration I’ve decided that I will. I enjoy writing it, and I doubt that it would have any significant effect on any universe that stumbles across it!
Meanwhile, it’s shedding season for everybody. On the way back from testing that portal I accidentally shed some quills that rained down on Rudy. He did have a point; hedgehogs really weren’t suppose to fly.

For a while now this blog has served as a personal diary or journal, completely sealed off from prying eyes. This has allowed me to comment unreservedly on my human origins, inside details on Hare Link’s business and even situations like Mr. Squirrel’s that I’d never want to be open to the public. I’ve used my entire reservoir of computer knowledge to keep it hidden behind the tightest firewall and encrypted security possible.
As far as I know that’s worked. However...some technical developments have made me wonder. Hare Link uses a signal that is impervious to anyone in this world I live in, but is in close proximity to one of the portals I discovered during my brief visit to human world.
After running some tests, I’ve found it's theoretically possible that this signal could make my blog available to someone on the other side of that portal. It’s far-fetched, but considering the events in my past I really can’t rule it out just on the basis of improbability.

Just after writing last week’s blog I began asking myself whether that really could be “D.B.Cooper’s” means of descent from the plane he hijacked. Namely, if Mr. Squirrel did land in that bird feeder, with the chute blowing away on its own just after impact, how could it have drifted two whole miles?
Then came the news that the chute found last week was of a much earlier vintage. That made much more sense, and has the added benefit of discouraging further interest that could lead to Mr. Squirrel’s doorstep. It does, of course, raise the question of what exactly did happen to his parachute.
It had to have been found nearby, if not by law enforcement personnel then by someone else. But who would’ve hidden it? I believe Mr. Squirrel when he says he had no accomplices (“D. B, Cooper’s” actions during the hijacking suggest that.) so who would’ve actively hidden evidence of a world-famous crime they weren’t a part of?
Perhaps it was the owners of the bird feeder that Mr. Squirrel landed in? But, what would birds in the Pacific Northwest have had to hide?
Anyway, gotta go. I need to update my MicroTalon software.

With a shock, I read on www.cnn.com the news that “D.B. Cooper’s” parachute from the hijacking decades ago had been found. I immediately went on GoogleEarth and compared the site to where Douglas Squirrel had been arrested for breaking and entering into a bird feeder on the very day that the hijacker had bailed out. Yep, the location of the chute was just two miles away from that spot; the wind had blown it that far before it settled into the forest floor.
I know Gran and Mr. Squirrel are following this story with intense interest. While Gran has apparently accepted that Mr. Squirrel has served his debt to society, I doubt that the federal authorities will agree.
It was a matter of luck that he wasn’t fingered right away. Luck, and jurisdictional conflicts. He was arrested by local law enforcement, and they never thought to tie him to the hijacking. Today, with an interconnected database, that confusion wouldn’t have happened.
The question now is, is somebody going to go through the court records of the town where the parachute was discovered and say, Hey, there was a squirrel arrested in a bird feeder on the same day the hijacker vanished. He fit the description. Better check him out...

Happy Easter! I drove up from Beige to celebrate the day with my family, and to see how Rudy would do with his second Easter Bunny gig. Being nocturnal, I was able to stay up and track his movements around the county via GPS.
Of course he had help in the person of Fiona. She’s an interesting character, blessed with smarts, enthusiasm, looks and (yes) wealth. She’s the walking embodiment of The Whole Package and Rudy, to his credit, knows what he has in her.
Fiona’s had her share of bizarre occurrences in her life, and she seems settled and relieved that they seem to be over. Still, one facet of her personality is her relish in dressing in costumes. At various times she’s disguised herself as a sheep, as Rudy and now as the Easter Bunny. She also took great pleasure in giving her father a rabbit makeover when he was briefly dating a rabbit-phile fennec, and in creating a fox costume for her mother when she was transformed into a human.
Add to this her photography hobby, and Fiona seems to put lots of effort into the art of imagery. Rudy himself is an artist, so perhaps this is the common denominator of their relationship.
BTW, they did fine distributing the eggs. From what Dad told me, the Rabbit Council was extremely pleased.

I had a real interesting experience with Fenton’s parents this week. That’s “interesting” as in the curse, “May you live in interesting times.”
They showed up unannounced on Beige University’s Parents Weekend for the first time ever, with wedding plans made unilaterally without consulting me. I don’t like conflict; I tend to be a mediator, but this was too much. I’d made it abundantly clear that the wedding wouldn’t take place until after I graduate, but still they presented detailed plans for a ceremony taking place in less than three months. What were they thinking???
...Or more specifically, what was she thinking because, let’s face it, Fenton’s dad probably had little input into this. I’ve never had much of a relationship with Ms. Fuscus due to Fenton being distant from his mom. That whole family is less than forthcoming in interpersonal relationships, with vast silences taking the place of honest contact. Then again, they may be just using sonar instead.
At any rate, Fenton’s smart house has taken over the maternal role in his life, and I’ve followed suit in seeing Tree as my future mother-in-the-law. This week’s events was a nasty reminder that I’m still going to be getting an actual mother-in-law that I’ll have to deal with.

A few nights ago Gran called (an unusual event itself) and asked me to investigate the background of the man she’d just dumped, Douglas Squirrel. That wasn’t the textbook sequence of events (dump, then investigate!) so I figured she’d regretted her course of action and really wanted a reason to take him back.
An online search brought up nothing more than his bird feeder theft conviction for which he’d served four years in prison, and then spent three more on probation. He served his time without incident, and since stealing from bird feeders isn’t a stigma in squirrel society he was able to go on to a successful banking career.
That would’ve been the end of it, but Gran also sent me via overnight mail a sample of the fur he’d shed on her. (Way to go, Gran!) I did an analysis, and didn’t discover any anomalies. Then I started comparing his DNA to outstanding criminal cases just to reassure her, and that’s when the match came up: D.B. Cooper.
It was before my time, but I read about the case; the only successful hijacking ever of an American airliner. He’d taken over the plane, forced it to land, released the passengers in exchange for $200,000, took off with the crew and bailed out over the Pacific northwest. He was never seen again.
Recently the FBI released a sample of the hijacker’s DNA obtained from the necktie he’d left behind. That’s where I found the match, and Fenton and I drove back to Domain to confront Mr. Squirrel. (Fenton was there to fly me to safety in case our quarry resorted to violence.)
It was a peaceful meeting, though, and Mr. Squirrel actually seemed relieved. I called Gran from his house, and told her the news. She was taken aback, but I talked her into giving him a second chance since he did indirectly serve time for the incident. She relented, and they went out to eat. Fenton and I won’t divulge the news, except to this blog which I know that nobody can access.
So that leaves one final mystery: where did the money go?

Dad made his monthly visit to Grampa at the state pen, and got a rude surprise. Dad texted me as he was leaving, and I got the news that Gran’s new flame has a prison record. At first I thought it might have been some cruel trick that Grampa was playing on his ex, but vindictiveness is not really his style. And sure enough, the news was true. (And here I thought Elanor had checked Mr. Squirrel’s background!)
The crime was stealing from a bird feeder, something that squirrels are notorious for doing. So notorious, in fact, that strict rules were placed on that, along with significant penalties. Writing this, it seems odd to me that birds would have such clout to put those laws in place since they generally occupy the lower rungs of society.
Then again, if that were so, how did Ms. Aura get to be in charge of the dimensional portal leading to the human world? That’s a big responsibility for a simple schoolteacher. Maybe it’s best that I don’t persue this further.
Anyway, Dad’s told Gran about Mr, Squirrel’s record. Now we’ll see how she reacts.

One consequence of Gran and Elanor working at Aby’s Auto Repair is the interest they’ve attracted among older males. Aby’s happy since it means more business for her, but I’m not sure about the intended objects of affection.
In Elanor’s case, when a gentleman casts his eyes upon her she responds with an unmistakable “do not disturb” non-verbal cue. (With wolves, that can be quite unmistakable.) Eventually she might find a way to reconcile a new relationship with the memory of her late beloved husband, but for now her heart is not seeking anyone new.
Gran, on the other hand, just might be in the market. She always had a stormy marriage to Grandpa, and now that she’s divorced she can play the field. In fact, she never had a genuine union of love in her life. She married Grandpa young, and by the time she discovered his true nature as a career criminal she was already pregnant with Dad. She stayed wed for the sake of Dad and the subsequent bunnies that came along.
The question is whether the defensive personality she’s cultivated over the years will scare off potential suitors. Knowing Gran, that can be even more intimidating than a wolf’s.

I heard from Fiona, Corrie and Bruno today. Not from Rudy.
It seems that Rudy had been taking his relationship with Fiona for granted, and Fiona being Fiona, decided to take a proactive approach to the situation. She completely camouflaged herself to become invisible to him and vanish from his life. (Fenton asked why she didn’t simply leave town, but she had classes to attend. The girl is super-conscientious.)
After a few days of missing her, Rudy finally admitted to her that the absence was affecting him. Of course, he didn’t exactly confess that intentionally; her final disguise was quite convincing.
Fiona returned Bruno’s clothes to him, and Rudy and Fiona had a somewhat-delayed Valentine’s Day.

It’s Valentine’s Day on Thursday, and Fenton and I will continue our tradition of taking a long flight through the night day, ending up with us perched at the very top of the clock tower watching the sun rise. Beat that for romance, Brangelina!
It’s our first V-Day as an engaged couple, and that makes it more special...and a little scarier. We’re now planning on a lifetime commitment which comes with a load of emotions that Fenton hasn’t carried before. He’s got some serious wing-strength, though.
Last Tuesday in the primary we split our vote: I voted for Hillary and Fenton voted for Obama, Judging from the current state of the campaign it looks like a lot of couples did that.
Speaking of couples, I visited Rhonda and Quinn over in the Family Housing dorm. I asked them if they were going to contribute to the “Family” part of the name anytime soon, and they said not right now, but it’s in their plans eventually.
Meanwhile, Rachel’s looking forward to another visit from her girlfriend Joan Hoof, She keeps putting her ear to the ground, listening for the clip-clop of her arrival.

The Big Game is today, not that I’m interested. While I follow Beige University’s teams, the professional sports don’t involve me. I suppose that’s because I see pro franchises as mechanisms for blackmailing cities out of tax revenue to build stadiums under the threat of moving to other cities.
I do kept swept up in Beige’s teams, especially when they’re doing well. Even though the athletes are separated in the athletic dorm and are rarely seen in actual contact with other students, they are technically a part of the campus.
(BTW, I acknowledge that by being nocturnal, there are lots of students with which I have no contact!)
Anyway, there are lots of parties planned this evening, and since The Game is played at night Fenton and I will probably go to one of them and watch the commercials. That’s what most people do, anyway. Only in America do we have an unofficial holiday for gathering in large groups to watch TV ads.

Here at Beige University we’re making dorm arrangements for next year. I’m still going to room with Rachel, and Fenton will continue to share his ecosystem with Bob Shrike.
Rachel and Bob were relieved, as they each semi-expected Fenton and I to start living together due to our engagement. The answer is not yet; for all of my family’s uniqueness we’re traditional in that regard.
Also, Fenton and Bob have a perfect set-up since one is nocturnal and the other isn’t. For all practical purposes they each have a private room.
Rachel, meanwhile, has become the little sister I never had. (...Until Coney gets older, of course!) I grew up as an only child, in a rabbit culture that put a premium on the traits of cuddliness and fluffiness...adjectives that would never apply to me. I did wish for siblings and I eventually got them. I don’t regret that wish, even when the answer comes in the form of Rudy.

The strike is history, thanks to Kell. She finally got management (in the person of R.L.) to confess what they really feared from the Internet, and she was able to allay those concerns. I’m quite proud of her; she’s not a geek, but she was able to marshall enough technical information to back up her arguments and win a fair contract for her fellow predators. (I’m sure that being married to the co-owner of an ISP helped on that count.)
The predators have resumed hunting, but are frustrated since most of their prey is hibernating. Instead, they settled for those who’ve been kicked off reality TV shows.
So life goes on. Fenton and I see each other whenever we’re not taking separate classes, and very occasionally the topic of conversation comes around to our future. While engaged, we’re not actively making any wedding plans, and I certainly haven’t picked out any flatware patterns.

I’m getting daily reports on the strike from home, plus what I see on the news. (Here in the Ivory Tower it really hasn’t impacted our lives to the extent that it has in the real world.)
Kell admits to enjoying the extra hours she spends with Coney, although even when she’s working she makes time to focus on her. She’s required to walk the picket line for four hours, and the rest of the day belongs to family life. That includes Dad’s footrubs; there’s something to be said for being married to the son of a Physical Therapist.
My brain just generated the mental image of Gran giving Kell a footrub. Out! Out, I say!
As I mentioned before, the settlement we got from the motel that chased Dad into the Wild has sustained us financially. Other predators aren’t so lucky, of course, and hunger is becoming a factor. This strike can’t possibly last much longer. At this point, there won’t be a winner...It’s who is going to lose the most.