Its been almost 10 months, and I just found out Robert Sheckley
died. He lived in the same building in Portland as my brother, and
we met several times over glasses of wine. One of our favorite
games was to create verbal sci-fi stories, swapping off the
evolving plot lines, carrying them over to our next gathering. We
had a long one going called 'Time Dam', where future engineers
built a dam to make a reservoir of time, allowing a measured amount
to escape. The flow of time would follow the path of time-gravity
(like water), affecting reality as it went along. Floods caused big
effects, droughts caused long periods of stagnation. We finished
our story while I drove him to the airport one time. I can't
remember the details, but it got quirky and we were laughing our
assess off, howling at the absurdity, driving in dark through the
Oregon rain.
Thanks, Bob, for everything...
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