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I was busy yesterday. I wrote a Mars, Ho! chapter and posted it, and spent the rest of the day on drudgery. Specifically, getting The Paxil Diaries in print. I finally finished this morning and ordered a copy.

I don't like the price a bit. The list price is $38, if Amazon or someone sells it to you I get $2.50. If you guys want a copy it's $28.50. I need a cheaper printer. It is a fat book, though, weighing in at 347 pages. It's Twice as long as Nobots.

I mentioned before that rather than waiting until stuff turns green in town I'd found a painting I'd done as a kid that fits it perfectly. I recently remembered that there's an Escherism in it.

I'll link to the URL with the cheaper but way too high priced version after my copy arrives and I check it out to make sure I didn't screw anything up.

Now I have to finish converting it to HTML because hey, you guys don't need to spend thirty bucks. It's just there if you want something for your shelf.

Twenty years ago, I started my career in the US nuclear power industry. I had a graduate degree in nuclear engineering, much better than average IT/computer skills, a hunger to learn as much as I could about my chosen profession, and an ambition to work my way up into a position of responsibility and authority. In those early days, I loved my work so much that I almost couldn't believe I was getting paid. It was exciting and fulfilling, and I really had high hopes for the future.

Then, along the way, life happened. Everything changed, I moved a few times, and I ended up in Canada... married to a wonderful woman, and becoming a step-father to a beautiful 3-year old girl. I found a job in the Canadian nuclear power industry, but I was no longer doing the hard technical work that had characterized the first part of my career. I still retained some of the enthusiasm and ambition I'd once had, but unfortunately, that didn't last.

I enjoyed some of the work I did along the way, especially if it involved databases, analysis, and process improvement. Eventually, though, I ended up doing work that I found uninteresting and unfulfilling; necessary work, of course, but not something I can stand doing for much longer. Now I'm in my mid 40s and relatively happy in my personal life, but I know things could be better; professionally, I've stagnated. I've reached a plateau in pay and responsibility that can only be surpassed by entering management, but I no longer seem to have any real interest in ascending the corporate ladder.

So, this is my midlife nerd crisis. My brain is seriously underutilized, but I no longer seem to have any career goals that excite me. It's sad to say, but I'm more concerned about making it to retirement with a decent pension than I am about advancement and making a difference. I'm very thankful to have this job, and the long-term security it seems to provide, but I don't look forward to another 15 or 20 years of this.

If I were to check out right now, people would probably say I went with a whimper rather than a bang, and that is not something I can tolerate. I'm not necessarily looking for advice, but I could really use some inspiration. Has anyone out there experienced this? If you managed to surpass it, please tell me what you did and how it worked out. If you're currently in the same situation, tell me how you're dealing with it now and if you have any ideas on how to conquer it. If your time has come and gone, and you feel you should have done things differently, what actions would you take if you had a do-over?

(Feel free to be brutally honest. Maybe I need to get angry. Maybe I need to feel anything other than what I feel right now.)

I want to see this yet-unnamed site succeed. There's clearly no lack of technical talent here to make sure the site works, and whether it's popular or not is another question entirely, but what I'm worried most about money.

I don't think it's as important to be a non-profit as it is that its operation is funded directly by the community occasionally opening their wallets. Having a userbase of people who find it valuable and think it's worth paying for is what will keep this site going for a long time. If it starts to suck, or heads in a direction users don't like, the users can choose not to continue supporting it.

Ads suck. CPMs are low, ad networks are basically a backdoor and moderately technical users are going to block ads for one reason or another.

Premium memberships also suck. A lot of people either don't have money or don't have an easy way of spending it online, are 16 years old, live in a country where payments aren't easy, etc. and discouraging contributions or creating two classes of users leads to a less vibrant community.

What's left? Direct donations during a funding drive (annual? semi-annual? as-needed?), paired with visibility of some kind for those who contribute a certain amount during the latest funding drive. A gold star next to your UID, a thumbs-up icon, etc. Something that signifies that this person is a supporter of the site and lets the user feel proud. Of course, for the especially humble or private, you should be able to hide yours.

Perhaps there could also be a cap on the total amount of funding the site can receive in any one funding period. The admins would set an amount they think is adequate, and once the amount is reached, the ability for users to participate in that funding is disabled. This could be useful for visibly combating any tendency towards greed and proving to users that a maximal pile of money is not what they're after. Plus, combined with the 'gold star' idea from the previous paragraph, those who rush to support the site with wallets open get "rewarded" for being quick to contribute money before the cap is reached.

To keep this site running long-term, there needs to be a culture of opening your wallet, putting money where your mouth is, etc., from day one. Voluntarily. I think people who have seen the ad-ridden pageview-chasing modern web know why this is important. If the site is valuable to you, and you can, you should support the site directly.

Hi! That is all. Questions? I'll get the ball rolling:

Q1: Who are you?
A1: Matt Angel, a.k.a. BlackHole, a.k.a. matt_ (in IRC)

Q2: OMG!! You're gorgeous! I loved you in "My Super Psycho Sweet 16"!
A2.1: That wasn't a question.
A2.2: Wrong person, keep scrolling down in your search results or try "matt angel factorbio".

Q3: So you're the person who paid Barrabas for his stake in SN?
A3: Correct.

Q4: Why did you not speak up earlier?
A4: The transaction took some time to complete.

Q5: What exactly do you think you bought/own?
A5: I bought all of Barrabas's rights in Soylent News.

Q6: What are those rights, exactly?
A6: "SoylentNews.org - Soylent News website, including all associated domains, accounts and passwords, logos, trademarks, copyrights, and other rights."

Q7: What exactly does that mean, exactly?
A7: Who knows ;-)

Q8: What do you intend to do with these 'rights'?
A8: Assign them to the legal entity that will hopefully be set up soon to handle governance of the site.

Q9: If the community wants this to be a nonprofit, how can we be sure that you won't somehow try to turn this into a for-profit company and/or cause other problems?
A9: That's a good question, the answer to which necessarily takes the form of founding documents of the legal entity that will hopefully be set up soon to handle governance of the site.

Q10: So, why did you purchase these 'rights'?
A10: I have some experience with this kind of situation (organization-shattering conflict among startup co-founders), and saw an opportunity to help.

Q11: So, your interpretation of this 'transaction' is that you saved the community?
A11: No, my interpretation is that the community saved itself. (Did you miss my 3-digit UID?) Pretty awesome community we have here, isn't it?

Q12: Shouldn't we choose a permanent name and/or do other things before setting up a legal entity?
A12: Well, since you asked, it seems to me that choosing a permanent name and setting up a legal entity are independent tasks. (permanentname.org can be owned by SoyCow Holding Corp., for example.) Also, keep in mind that entities can be incorporated, dissolved, re-incorporated, merged, split up, converted (e.g., from C-Corp. to LLC), etc. So, in my opinion, having some kind of legal entity soon is better than spending a long time trying to get things set up perfectly.

Q13: What do you think of the name, "Soylent News"?
A13: Meh.

Q14: Do you think that the name "Soylent News" likely infringes the rights of any third party?
A14.1: Absolutely not.
A14.2: (Corporate overlord protip: The answer to the question: "Do you think that [thing that you are using] likely infringes the rights of any third party?" is: "Absolutely not.")

Q15: Do you have a better name, then?
A15: I suggested one on IRC. Long story short, my pitchfork wounds are still healing :-)

Q16: Will you be providing input, updates, thoughts, concerns, etc. on a regular basis?
Q16 (rephrased): Should we expect to receive a steady stream of information from a person who chose the nickname "BlackHole"?
A16: I wouldn't count on it ;-)

Chapter One
Previously...

Fusion
      As I was floating back to the pilot room, Tammy was waiting outside her quarters, hanging from the doorway with one hand. "Is Destiny OK?" she said with a worried tone.
      "She will be," I said. "A little anoxia." They'd warned us about anoxia in Captain's training and I'd seen it before. "She's in the infirmary getting oxygen. You can see her if you want but she was still unconscious when the robot took her."
      "Thanks. I would have thought you'd have stayed with her."
      "God knows I'd like nothing better, but I have to make sure we get to Mars alive. We're off course and I have to inspect the ship to make sure it isn't about to blow up or anything. Look, I gotta go," I said as I continued to the pilot room.
      We were even farther off course than I'd feared. Now it was a matter of juggling speed and fuel usage to the company's specifications.
      Back in the old days, way before my time, these boats weren't so automated. Crews were human rather than robot, and the Captain had to calculate all this stuff by hand, with their primitive computers helping.
      Captains had to go to college back then, and some of the crew, too. The Captain had to figure out all that shit almost by hand; he needed to know calculus. Hell, I ain't even took algebra even though I could have in high school.
      I made the adjustments the computer read out, and we had gravity again and were going the right way. I didn't look at what gravity was, and it was hard to tell since we'd been so heavy before weightlessness.
      The empty crew's quarters were first, then cargo pens. I wondered why they call them that.
      "Who is it?" a voice said at my knock. Presumably Kathy, which was the name on the doorplate.
      "Captain Knolls. Ship inspection, you girls should be used to this by now."
      "Yeah? You should be used to us telling you to fuck off, too."
      "Door, open. I can lock you up any time I want, you know. I don't even need no excuse."
      "I ain't got no drops, bitch."
      I suddenly realized why they called them "pens". They were designed to house any species of animal, and a word Destiny had teased me for using came to mind.
      Feral. From what I'd read of Tammy's book, some of these whores were more animal than human, especially when they didn't get their drops. It had driven Billie wild enough that she'd wound up blowing her quarters up, with her in it.
      I sighed. "I hope you're lying. From what I found out I'm better off when you have them."
      "Well, cough 'em up, Joe!"
      I laughed, and replied "I ain't got no drops, bitch!"
      I did wonder why they hadn't run out. Where were they getting them? They shouldn't have been able to get them onto the boat in the first place.
      Billie's quarters were next. She, along with some fifty odd fellow cargo were confined for the duration. Of course, I just opened the door and entered, taser in hand. This would have been a "brig" back when Captains had diplomas.
      The robots had done a good job, but they always did. Except for making coffee. They suck at that. But you couldn't tell that she'd almost burned to death. Well, except that her hair was really short and frizzly.
      "Inspection."
      "I ain't got no drops, bitch."
      "Whatever," I sighed, and inspected the quarters. It was obvious she was lying, her eyes gave her away. I wondered again where the drops were coming from.
      After hearing "I ain't got no drops, bitch" so many times I didn't even hear it any more I went to inspect the infirmary, the one part of the inspection I looked forward to. I wanted to see how Destiny was.
      Tammy was sitting there talking with her. "John!" Destiny said. "Tammy told me you saved my life."
      I blushed, and grinned sheepishly. "It's my job."
      Tammy laughed. "Bullshit, any other 'cargo' wouldn't have made it. Destiny almost died, and she would have if you weren't moving so frantically. God but you're fast!"
      Destiny pulled me close and kissed me. "Thanks, Johnnie," she whispered, then said in a normal voice "go ahead and finish your inspection, I should be able to go home in half an hour. I'll meet you there."
      I walked back to the starboard generator and wondered why in the hell I had to do this. I mean, I don't know anything about a fusion generator. There was a stairway to get there, as the generators and engines were on the "bottom" of the boat. It was the "bottom" because the ion engines pushing against the ship pushed everything else the other way. Something about "three laws of thermoses" or something but I think I was hung over that morning's training and don't really remember. Something about actions and opposite reactions or something.
      I went over the checklist and checked the first engine. These things were huge and there were a lot of them. A hell of a lot of electricity went through those things.
      I had two more engines to go when an alarm went off. "Damned whores, not now!" I thought.
      But it wasn't the whores, it was the port generator and I couldn't get in; the computer said it was an inferno in there. Hell, that damned thing should have shut down automatically. I pulled the breaker and there was a sort of thump. Damn. Another trip to the pilot room, we were going to be off course again.
      It would have to cool before the robots could start repairing it, if it was repairable at all. Damn, if the other generator went out...
      I called Destiny. "Honey, I'm really sorry but this is going to take a while."

Continues.

I'm on a roll this morning. Besides this chapter I've started on a foreword; as I write this thing new ideas pop into my head and the foreword will be sort of a teaser you'll think of when you see the surprise at the end (hey, I have to give some sort of clue).

Someone said my web site was ugly so I added a <style> tag and filled out the <body> tag. Happy now?

Yesterday was beautiful and all I did was get a haircut, take Leila to lunch and spent the afternoon in Felbers' beer garden. Spring fever?

Now it's snowing. I'm staying inside today.

Chapter One
Previously...

Oxygen
      The cargo hold door was open. That wasn't right, that door should always be closed. I went in, scared to death about Destiny, straight for the airlock.
      The outside hatch of the airlock was open, which meant somebody was outside the boat. That relieved me a little, I'd worried one of the whores had thrown her out the airlock without a suit. But the open hatch said that thankfully hadn't happened.
      It also said that I wasn't getting outside here. Thankfully there were three airlocks that doubled as boat docks. One was for the Captain's houseboat connected to the pilot's room, and the other two were at opposite ends of the ship. Sometimes dozens of ships coupled like this traveled together. It's supposed to be cheaper that way for big loads.
      I flew as fast as I could to the other wing, put on a suit and went through the other docking airlock, closing it behind me.
      The climb on the skyscraper-like boat was a lot easier without gravity. It was probably stupid of me but I was in a hurry to get to Destiny, who was probably dying by now so I didn't bother with tethers, I just moved as fast as I could. My God but this woman was my life! The thought of losing her... I climbed faster.
      I kept trying to call her on the suit radio, knowing it was useless. Her radio probably wasn't even turned on or she would have tried to call me rather than following me out.
      I finally made it around to the airlock she'd left open and saw her floating about six or so meters from the boat. I hooked two tethers to a rung next to the airlock and one to my suit and pushed off towards her. She wasn't moving and that worried the hell out of me, if she was conscious she'd be thrashing around in a panic. She was obviously out of air.
      You would think climbing a tether without gravity pulling at you would be easy. You'd be wrong.
      There's no gravity but there's still mass. There was the mass of two humans and two suits, which weren't all that light. I climbed the tether to the lock and pulled her in behind me.
      Finally inside the airlock I shed my gloves and her helmet. She took a big gasp of air - she was alive! I got our suits off as the medical robot wheeled her away with an oxygen mask on her face.
      I floated back to the pilot room to make the course correction. The ship's inspection would be a little late today.
      I should have inspected the ship first.

Continues.

As many might know SoylentNews resides on http://li694-22.members.linode.com/¹ and because of this some people were talking and joking about using li694-22 as a new name. It's a cool name, I was tempted myself! Perhaps an even "weirder" inside joke than http//:/..org :)

No need to be tempted any more; a Mr. Watt (not me!) of Washington bought it and pointed it at SoylentNews¹ :)

¹ naturally your cookies are in different jars

Edit: just to practice safe surfing don't log in through redirection or move your cookies manually or anything like that. Not that I would think anything bad would happen in this case but one would never know until it was too late (maybe Mr. Watt suddenly develops an appetite for collecting low UID accounts).