                                  T H E

                               Z E P H Y R

                      __     M A G A Z I N E
                     {__]++++++++++++++++++++++++++[]
                     Issue #17                5-31-86

                A weekly electronic magazine for users of
                            THE ZEPHYR II BBS
                        (Mesa, AZ - 602-894-6526)
                    owned and operated by T. H. Smith

                        Editor - Gene B. Williams

     . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
     . You may share this magazine with your friends under the   .
     . condition that the magazine remain complete and intact,   .
     . with no editing, revisions or modifications of any kind,  .
     . and including this opening section and statement.         .
     . If you like the magazine, our Sysop and I would appreciate.
     . it if you would let your friends know where they can log  .
     . in to find the magazine (and incidentally one of the      .
     . one of the finest BBSs in the country!).                  .
     . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
                                (c) 1986

    THIS ISSUE:

       What can I say? It's that same ol' excuse again. Deadlines,
    deadlines, DEADLINES! (Just when I thought I'd be able to take a
    vacation, in come 3 new book contracts. SHEESH!)
       So it was time to go to the files and yank out some more old
    stuff. This week there will be 4 short shorts for ya to chew on.
    The first two were experimental stuff I did some years ago and
    have a hidden (or not so hidden) meaning.

       The first is called "Survey."

    I.G. S. T.   Dept. 4, Section 7

    RE: Survey Team 1037; Planet 047-1136-3
        Standard Survey Summary  (complete report attached)

    	Atmosphere:   78-N; 21-O; 1-Misc * * * breathable
    	   Gravity:   0.88
    	 Mean Temp:   0.973

    Metalurgical & Elemental surveys indicate an economic potential
    ratio of approximately 0.673

    Intelligent Life Forms:  3

      *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

                             GENESIS OF MAN

       In the beginning the Merchant purchased the earth and the
    property rights. And He saw that the earth was barren. And
    the wallet of the Merchant moved over the water company, and
    He said, "Let there be irrigation." And there was evening and
    there was morning, one day.

       And the Merchant said, "Let there be a mansion, separate
    from the fields." And the Merchant called the mansion, "Home."
    And there was evening and there was morning, a second day.

       And the Merchant said, "Let the earth bring forth vegetation,
    plants yielding grapes for wine, each according to its kind.
    And let the fruits be gathered and crushed into liquid, each
    according to its kind." The high quality He called "heavenly,"
    and the lower he called "earthy." And there was evening and
    there was morning, a third day.

       And the Merchant said, "Let there be lights all around to
    keep the night as bright as the day. And let there be time clocks
    as signs of hours of labor." And it was so. And the Merchant
    purchased two great lights, the greater to light the fields,
    the lesser to light the buildings. And the Merchant called the
    greater "mercury vapor" and the lesser "flourescent." And He
    saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning,
    a fourth day.

       And the Merchant said, "Let the bee keeper bring forth swarms
    of living creatures to pollinate for a larger crop." And the
    Merchant saw that it was good. And the Merchant blessed them
    saying, "Be full of fruit and multiply and fill the plants with
    pollen." And there was evening and there was morning, a fifth day.

       And the Merchant said, "Let the juices bring forth living
    creatures, bacteria in the image of yeast, and let them have
    dominion over the grape juice and the fermentation." And the
    Merchant saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was
    very good. And there was evening and there was morning,
    a sixth day.

       Thus the wine was finished. And on the seventh day, the
    Merchant saw that the yeasts had given off alcohol as waste in
    such abundance that the yeasts died in their own poison.
       And not one thing lived.

      *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
    (I didn't write this next one - merely rewrote it from a
     translation provided to me by a friend of mine who was
     the Educational Advisor to Turkey. The story is an old
     Turkish folktale, called . . .)

                            THE BORROWED PANS

       One day Nesreddin Hoca decided to make some rice pilaf
    for his dinner. He searched high and low in his little hut
    but could not find a pot in which to cook the rice. So, he
    went to his neighbor's house and borrowed a pot.
       After making the pilaf, and after for several days, he
    returned two pots to the neighbor.
       "Friend Hoca, why are you returning two pots when you
    borrowed only one?" the neighbor asked.
       "You are a lucky man, indeed," explained Hoca. "Your pan
    had a baby."
       The neighbor had heard that old Hoca was a foolish man. He
    saw here the chance to increase his wealth by the extra pot, so
    he took them both into his house without another word to Hoca,
    and congratulated himself.
       A few weeks later Hoca appeared once again at the neighbor's
    door, asking to borrow two pots to prepare a meal for some
    visitors. Thinking that old Hoca would certainly return more
    than two pots he was more than willing to make the loan.
       The days passed, and still the pots had not been returned.
    So the neighbor walked to Hoca's hut to ask about them.
       "Friend Hoca, why is it that you haven't returned the two
    pots you borrowed?"
       "Oh, my friend, I have such sad news for you."
       "Oh? What is that?"
       "I am so sorry to tell you this, but your pots have died."
       The neighbor realized that he wasn't going to get his pots
    back and was furious. "How can a pot die? Pots aren't alive!"
       "I can't explain it," answered Hoca. "They just died. But
    what is so strange about this? When I returned your pot before
    and told you that it had a baby you made no complain. And a
    pot that can have a baby can surely die."

      *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
    (I know it's out of season, but . . .)

                           THE CHRISTMAS STAR

       Stephen felt a cold splat on the back of his head. He spun
    around and saw his sister, Linda, bending in the snow, making
    another snowball to throw at him.
       "What's the matter, Stephen," she said, laughing. "Is the
    snow cold?"
       In answer he bunched together a handful of snow and tossed
    it at Linda. It hit her shoulder, causing her to drop the
    snowball she had just made. Then it was Stephen's turn to
    laugh. "You tell -me- how cold it is!"
       The air was filled with flying clumps of the soft snow. The
    snowballs flew through the air, missing the target more often
    than not. Soon the two were covered with the sticky snow and
    weak with laughter.
       "Oh, Stephen, look! It's snowing again."
       "Let's make angels," he said.
       The two plopped down into the snow and began to flap their
    arms and legs. As soon as each "angel" was made they moved a
    few feet away to make another, then another, until the ground
    was populated with them.
       The snow fell harder and harder. Soon it was covering up
    their works of art almost as quickly as they could make them.
    A cold wind began to blow and turned the moisture on their
    clothes to icy crystals.
       We'd better go in," said Stephen. Linda shivered and agreed.
    It wasn't much fun plaing in such a cold wind.
       Inside they watched the snow come down. It fell so thick that
    they could hardly see the next mountain. Still, it was grand
    being in the mountains for Christmas. Even the blizzard was
    exciting. It howled through the trees and occasionally struck
    at the small cabin with an icy fist.
       As the sun made its way behind the trees, and darkness came,
    the snow was still falling. Father had a big fire in the
    fireplace. Mother and Linda set up the small manger scene.
    The flicker of the fire made the star on top seem almost alive.
       "I wish we could outside to play," said Linda.
       "Well, it can't snow forever," Stephen commented, wishing
    the same thing. "Besides, we'll be going home tomorrow."
       Linda's eyes sparkled. "Yes. And then we'll have Christmas!
    Won't it be wonderful? We'll have a big tree, with lots of
    presents under it."
       "Don't forget the turkey," added Stephen.
       "With dressing and mashed potatoes and gravy and everything."
       Both made sounds, pretending to be enjoying the meal already.
    The thought of it made the storm outside seem less important.
    They giggled and talked of what they wanted for Christmas this
    year.
       The radio intruded from the background. The storm showed no
    signs of stopping, the announcer said. Snow plows were unable
    to clear the roads. Travel in the mountains was impossible.
       They were snowbound.
       "Oh, no," sniffed Linda. "Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and
    we'll be stuck here. No turkey, and no presents. Not even
    a tree."
       Stephen was disappointed, too, but was determined to show
    Linda how mature he was. "It's okay, Linda. We may get home
    a few days late, but we'll still have Christmas."
       "Some Christmas," she said pouting, and stomped off to
    her room.
       It snowed all that night, and all the next day. As Christmas
    Eve came, when they should have been celebrating and opening
    all the brightly wrapped packages, it was still snowing, and
    blowing. Outside the wind howled at them. It almost seemed
    to be laughing at them and their disappointment.
       Linda was so upset that she locked herself in her room. This
    just wasn't her idea of a good Christmas. Stephen couldn't help
    but feel sorry for her. Quietly he knocked on her door.
       "Linda," he whispered.
       "Go away!"
       "Come on, Linda. Cheer up. It's almost Christmas."
       "Some Christmas. We don't even have a tree." She sniffed
    through the door.
       An idea came to Stephen. He knew how fond Linda was of the
    small manger scene. "Linda, I have a present for you."
       The door cracked just a little, and Linda peeked out with
    red eyes. "A present? How?"
       He reached in and took her hand. "Just come with me," he
    said. Together they walked down the hall and into the central
    room of the cabin. Stephen pointed outside. "Look. The storm
    has stopped. See how clear it is outside."
       "So what," she sulked. "We're still stuck here."
       "Look up into the sky," he said. The star shined like
    thousands of specks of white paint on a black sheet.
       Linda looked at him, puzzled. "They're just stars."
       "No, not -just- stars. Jesus was born under a star, like
    on the manger scene. So, for my Christmas present to you, I'm
    giving you any one of those stars you want. It'll be your
    Christmas star - all your very own."
       Linda looked at her brother, then back at the sky. Suddenly
    her eyes widened and sparkled. "That one!" she screamed. "That
    bright one over there. It looks just like the star on the
    manger scene. -That- will be my Christmas star."
       Stephen felt a tingle of pleasure on his skin. He didn't
    even mind when Linda hugged him and gave him a wet kiss on
    his cheek.

    UNTIL NEXT TIME

      Stuff from the files this week - and perhaps next week as well.
    Not that most of you would know the difference anyway . . .
      Anyway, it looks like this crushing deadline will be met this
    coming week and yet another GBW book will be off to the presses.
    (Actually two - I went through the page proofs of "Chilton's
    Guide to Home Computer Repair and Maintenance" this past week,
    which means that it should be hitting the stands in the next
    couple of months.)

      Ooops. Got sidetracked a bit with the plug. (I'm still wondering
    how many of the readers of the board here happen to own a copy
    of any of my books???????)

    NEXT WEEK:  Pot luck, so to speak. A collection of strange and
    unusual events around the world.

    COMING UP:  Jim Lippard will hopefully be doing a guest article
    on nuclear power. Personally I can't think of anyone more
    qualified to handle the job.

    ALSO COMING UP:  Scott Carroll apparently isn't one to just
    suggest an article - he's willing to back it up. With luck one
    day soon we'll see a piece co-authored by Scott and myself.

    STILL NEEDED:  We still need a LOT more support for the board.
    Spread the word. In other words, pay your subscription fee and
    bring in a new user this week.

Zephyr Magazine is © Gene Williams. All rights reserved.