Captain Geoluread

Today is me simply thinking aloud. It's not intended hot take or the like, more an 'am I alone in thinking this?'

Does anyone else feel like Crater 101 is the high point of the series? It's the 21st or 22nd episode depending on whether you favour broadcast or production order respectively. The 'final third' just doesn't feel as good and also feels tonally quite different in places.

I know that by Attack on Cloudbase, principal had already begun on Most Special Agent for Joe 90; it's why I understand (if not forgive) The Inquisition being a clip show. Long before then, however (in fact, after 101) I get an increasingly dragging feeling that the enthusiasm for production was drying up.

I'd be keen to know when exactly it became clear Series 2 wasn't happening, as that may prove insightful.

On that note, let's shift into production order for the rest of this thought bubble.

After Crater 101, that leaves us with:

Place of Angels, Flight 104, Codename Europa, Flight to Atlantica, Noose of Ice, Treble Cross, Expo 2068, Attack on Cloudbase, Inferno and The Inquisition - which we're going to discount from the rest of the discussion.

I know we had the SST announcement not too long ago, but I was hoping, praying, we might get something about a Technical Operations manual, a Blu-ray re-release (I'm thinking of those of you who didn't get to snap up the Network-on-Air release ~10 years back) or even just an acknowledgement that we're coming up on the 60th, heck, even an acknowledgement of the day itself...

Hi again everyone! Hope you're staying cool in this heat.

I fired up my 20,000 word first draft (unfinished) of Project Serenity last night, then closed it in annoyance.

The core character has changed so much that what I have now can't be retooled or reused like before. I need to start again.

This is not the actual problem. I'm struggling with two, big revelations, when to place them and the fact that any reasonable person would engage with neither the Mysterons nor Spectrum... and yet that wasn't the ending I'd planned. It was suppoed to be a happy, reconciliatory ending.

SCENE II. Cambridge University.

Enter HARRIS, and RICHARDS above.

HARRIS

Anon, I go forth to the fourth floor o’ the fourth edifice.

RICHARDS

[Aside]

Belike shall hold forth as far as is called to Forth while you be at it.

'Tis well, Harris. I'll put a cauldron to the fire and there be posset for us both when you return.

HARRIS

Tis often misconstrued by learnèd folk,

That watchmen of the night be not well read.

This Watchman who this quintessence doth guard,

Is just as cunning as a scholar rob’d.

And from the gods, they learn’d of means divine,

And master'd quintessence in all its might,

With purpose civil and offensive both.

For while a spot can Richards’ cauldron bake,

The self same spot this school can fast unmake.

But Watchman this doth say ‘unbend your brows!’

Calamity like this cannot come down,

While noble Harris watches o'er this town!

But Ben Johnson did write a masque, performed in 1608, called The Hue and Cry After Cupid in which Venus hunts after Cupid. A 'god hunt' or 'child hunt', if you will. 'Hue and cry', meanwhile was a legal term for leaders turning the community out to catch a criminal on the run.

Though why such questions do I lately ask?

Next title mine: descry it as your task!

WHITE

Forsooth, these Mysterons refuse to yield.

And whiles we do here threat, these Myst’rons live.

Think about it: by the time the initial phase of that war is over, you've lost four of the world's most elite agents to the enemy, albeit with one returning later with what must be a constant question mark over his head, and your boss has directly witnessed the fallout from three of those incidents, nearly being killed by all three.

Of course, being a WIP, there's no guarantee it'll make it into the final piece exactly like this, but here goes:

That was how it had started. The lights. It had brought complete and utter silence to the room. Not when the red light winked, of course. Everyone was used to seeing that light. Maintenance had joked that it was the one they replaced most often. Curiously, it was one of the few, flashing red lights in the world that actually meant don’t panic, it will be all right, it’s under control. I’m okay… or at least, I will be.

It was the other light that joined it that afternoon that had stunned the team’s adoptive father into a rare silence. Not the contemplative silences he was known for as he stared out of the windows at the clouds, pondering his next move in the awful, unending game of chess into which he’d been thrust. This had been a silence he could not fill because the words would not come.

It was surely the same silence, she realised, every morning he faced the onyx monument on the observation deck and simply did not know what to say to it.

It was a curious ‘light’ - the lens was smoked to the point where it glowed nowhere near as brilliantly as the others, but a pinprick of light was visible within. The technicians had scratched their heads when they’d installed it. Of all the amazing creations they had devised - not least of all the ship at whose controls she now sat - this little, ‘black light’, they joked, was the greatest of their technical achievements.

When the monoliths had started gathering on the observation deck, the technicians had asked if they should remove the corresponding lights from the console.

They’d been refused.

They asked if the lights should be reassigned instead. It would simply be a case of rematching them to the new…

That was refused as well. And so, in a sense, three more monoliths, much smaller than the first set, were arrayed along his desk to stare at him accusingly as well.

And now one of them was lit.

And it should not have been.

Not now. Not ever again.

Then I got to wondering: without using AI, what would such a bike have looked like in the 1967 series? Actual 1960s bikes were out. Not chunky enough and too curvy. I like that OCS' vision of the future starts to lean away from 50s and 60s curves into the panels and angles that would dominate in the 80s.

Then I remembered Zillers Russia's (this is in no way a promotion) custom BMW R9T that they rechristened the Ninet 801 and how much - appropriately - it reminded me of the Spiders from the Joe 90 episode The Professional.

And it turns out they did a range of colours:

And that BMW roundel is begging to be hotswapped for a Spectrum one, right?

How about you? Anything you think would be even more appropriate, or is there an artist among us who could put Scarlet in the saddle?

We bring another episode to a close! Today, Captain Blue explains the difference between the speed of light and sound - but for a 1607, not 1967 audience! With love, as always, to Andersons and Shakespeare both, join me as we ask what Captain Scarlet would have been like if written 350 years early!

SCENE III. A private room within a tavern, o’erlooking Paul’s.

Enter SCARLET, BLUE and MELODY and DESTINY Angels.

MELODY

A prospect grand a maiden here enjoys,

One Paul through window Melody doth spy,

Belike a fairer Paul herein doth see.

BLUE

And both, belike, more foul could have appear’d!

SCARLET

Ay, verily, but riddle this remains:

How did you quintessential casket find?

BLUE

Attending patient hath this Captain been.

SCARLET

This patient hath a full recov’ry made,

And patient doth this Captain no more stand,

Good Doctor Fawn, not Captain Blue I thank.

BLUE

Good Captain, nay, with patience I attend.

SCARLET

And such a patience did this Captain show,

To Lady so distress’d in yonder street?

BLUE

Good Scarlet, peace, lest face of mine doth burn,

With self same colour of your tunic red.

By Saint and Captain Paul do mock me not.

For midnight, black, as enemy we seek,

Doth Captain Blue so patiently attend.

Poor Macey within Dutton’s Yard was trapp’d,

But yards away from hence doth that yard lie.

Full sure that thirteen tolls of Paul’s he heard,

And chance so rare can only hope to chance,

A statute mile from where good Paul doth toll,

And Paul a statute mile from Paul’s now sits!

SCARLET

I follow you in all but one respect:

I see not still how he did hear thirteen.

BLUE

Around this table pilots four there be,

Ere Spectrum, Paul did with the king’s guard fly,

And I did prototypes once test and break,

And Angels fair in skill exceed us both.

In all things that do chance and come to pass,

A pair of messengers our senses note.

Our eyes do fix upon a sight to see,

And ears attend upon a sound to hear.

Divided in their speed these heralds are,

And one doth fast outpace his leaden friend.

When bombards from your viper-bird unleash’d,

On what did all your senses first make feast,

When bomblet found its target on the ground,

What marked you first, the spectacle or sound?

SCARLET

I’faith, first spectacle then sound report!

BLUE

Where light doth almost instantly arrive,

More leisurely a route doth sound select.

To far-speak Macey said he did attend,

But cross anew for riddle this creates.

At distance of a statute mile from thence,

Doth sound full seconds four and half take time,

Anon we shall as Macey now react,

A copy of his evening so enact.

Paul’s chimeth the hour. BLUE opens a far-speak. A bell from the instrument.

‘Tis apt that Paul this Paul is reckoning.

SCARLET

Anon.

A bell from the instrument.

That’s two.

A bell from the instrument.

Three.

BLUE

Of far-speak’s wonders, sev’ral and divine,

Is that it carries sound as fast as light.

No matter whether there or half orb hence,

At instant same same sound doth your ears mark.

Belike tis better that I word it thus:

A bomblet seen is same time bomblet heard.

A bell from the instrument.

The far-speak here doth stand, and Paul’s o’er yon..

A bell from the instrument.

DESTINY

Your reasoning, reasoning sound, is sound!

Methinks our minds do jump in one accord.

A bell from the instrument.

BLUE

‘Tis well. Two-hundred-fifty leagues in but

an hour can sound make way unto our ears.

A bell from the instrument.

And from the far-speak seventh chime have heard.

But nought but six from Paul’s your ears attend.

A bell from the instrument.

Full statute mile from hence doth Paul’s knell toll,

Full seconds four and half Paul is behind.

A bell from the instrument.

DESTINY

This far-speak full one chime ahead doth call!

A bell from the instrument.

SCARLET

Ten.

BLUE

Attend!

A bell from the instrument.

SCARLET

Eleven.

A bell from the instrument.

Twelve.

A bell.

Thirteen!

BLUE

From steeple Paul’s did this twelfth chime arrive,

But near five seconds this far-speak behind!

SCARLET

Thirteen! They say there is divinity in odd numbers!

Exeunt SCARLET, BLUE and MELODY and DESTINY Angels. Enter BLACK and WHITE, above.

BLACK

In man or woman at your side

Could well a Mysteron reside.

Mysterons have not forgotten,

Vengeance ours shall be begotten.

WHITE

Hark, imitate good Captain Scarlet not:

He’s indestructible - and you are not!

And it's me again!

When writing the Shakespeare stuff, I've got into the habit of typing on A5 pages with a view to maybe (maybe) getting a unique copy printed for myself as a little coffee table book.

When I did this with Project Serenity (now my codename, not the final name, which I've already picked)...

...81 pages and 15,000 words at 11pt. I had no idea I'd written this much, and I'm not even close to finished.

I've made a splash graphic that I am so pleased with and I am resisting posting it as a teaser with every fibre of my being and teasing something I don't finish.

The core of this story, a new character, keeps changing, and this is not only necessitating rewrites but it's also opening up so many possibilities.

Without spoiling too much, they've aged up twice since I first conceptualised them, and this second adjustment has made them explode into a full character and one I feel I can write with a lot more authenticity, one who fits far better into the CS world and one who is just so much more interesting to write. It also means a huge emotional moment I've been seeding throughout the story is going to present an actual dilemma rather than the character being too young to understand or too old to care.

It's only as I step back from it that my influences, however inadvertent, are clear to me. I'm pretty pleased with what I've unwittingly chosen.

This is going to be a while. I'm introducing things that suddenly spawn another chapter, sometimes two. This was meant to be a short one shot and it's essentially turning into a novella at this rate.