Category: Sci-Fi by Women

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Exploring Gliese 667Cc: A Perfect Destination for Humanity’s Future and the Setting of Sea of Lies

Nestled in the Scorpio constellation, approximately 23.6 light-years from Earth, Gliese 667Cc is an exoplanet that has captured the imagination of astronomers and science fiction enthusiasts alike. Discovered in 2011 by the European Southern Observatory, this super-Earth orbits within the habitable zone of its parent star, Gliese 667C, a red dwarf in a triple-star system. With its potential for liquid water, stable climate, and unique characteristics, Gliese 667Cc stands out as an ideal candidate for a generation ship’s destination and a prime subject for terraforming. Let’s dive into why this distant world could be humanity’s next home—and what its skies might look like for future residents.

By ESO/L. Calçada – ESO, CC BY 4.0

A Prime Destination for a Generation Ship

A generation ship, designed to carry humans across vast interstellar distances over centuries, requires a destination that offers the promise of habitability. Gliese 667Cc fits the bill perfectly. With a mass about 3.8 times that of Earth, it’s classified as a super-Earth, suggesting a solid surface capable of supporting human infrastructure. Its orbital period is a mere 28.1 Earth days, meaning it orbits close to its star—but Gliese 667C is a cool red dwarf, with a surface temperature of around 3,400 Kelvin, much lower than our Sun’s 5,500 Kelvin. This places Gliese 667Cc in the habitable zone, where temperatures could allow for liquid water—a key ingredient for life as we know it.

The planet’s proximity to its star also means it’s likely tidally locked, with one side perpetually facing the star and the other in eternal darkness. While this might sound challenging, the terminator zone—the region between day and night—could provide a stable, temperate environment for human settlement. For a generation ship, this offers a clear target: a planet where the “twilight zone” could be engineered for human survival. Moreover, the relatively short distance of 23.6 light-years makes Gliese 667Cc an achievable target for a multi-generational journey, especially with advancements in propulsion technology like nuclear fusion or solar sails. A generation ship arriving at Gliese 667Cc would find a world ripe for the next step: terraforming.

Terraforming Gliese 667Cc: Building a New Earth

Terraforming—the process of transforming a planet to make it Earth-like—would be a monumental but feasible task on Gliese 667Cc. The planet’s mass suggests it has a stronger gravitational pull than Earth’s, around 1.1 to 1.3g, which is manageable for humans with some adaptation. Its potential to retain a thick atmosphere is a significant advantage. If Gliese 667Cc currently has a thin or toxic atmosphere (common for exoplanets around red dwarfs), we could introduce greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide or methane to trap heat and create a stable climate. Over time, photosynthetic organisms or bioengineered algae could convert these gases into oxygen, building a breathable atmosphere.

Water is another critical factor, and Gliese 667Cc’s position in the habitable zone makes liquid water a strong possibility. If the planet has frozen water reserves, melting them through orbital mirrors or nuclear heat could create oceans. The tidal locking presents an opportunity: the dayside could be used to evaporate water, while the nightside’s cold temperatures could facilitate precipitation, creating a water cycle. The terminator zone, with its moderate temperatures, would be the ideal place to establish human colonies, where crops could be grown under controlled conditions, leveraging the planet’s 28-day “year” to maximize agricultural output.

Gliese 667Cc’s parent star emits most of its light in the infrared spectrum, which could be harnessed for energy. Solar panels optimized for infrared light could power terraforming efforts, while the star’s low luminosity reduces the risk of harmful UV radiation. Additionally, the planet’s location in a triple-star system offers backup energy sources—Gliese 667A and B, the other two stars, could provide additional light and heat, especially during their closest approaches. Terraforming Gliese 667Cc would transform it into a new Earth, with sprawling oceans, breathable air, and a stable climate—ready for humanity to call home.

A Sky Like No Other

For residents of a terraformed Gliese 667Cc, the sky would be a breathtaking spectacle, unlike anything seen on Earth. The planet’s primary star, Gliese 667C, is a red dwarf, so its light would cast a deep crimson hue across the landscape. During the “day” in the terminator zone, the sky might appear a soft, rosy pink, with the red dwarf hanging low and large—about three times the apparent size of the Sun in Earth’s sky—due to the planet’s close orbit. This dim, reddish light would create an otherworldly ambiance, with long shadows and a perpetual twilight glow.

The presence of Gliese 667A and B, the other two stars in the system, would add to the spectacle. These stars, a pair of orange dwarfs, orbit each other and are more distant from Gliese 667Cc, but they would still be visible as bright points of light in the sky. At their closest approach, they might shine as brilliantly as Venus does from Earth, their orange light contrasting with the red glow of Gliese 667C. At night, in the darkside regions, the sky would be a deep black, punctuated by the faint glow of distant stars and the occasional shimmer of auroras if the planet develops a magnetic field during terraforming. The interplay of light from three stars would make every day and night a visual masterpiece, a constant reminder of the planet’s unique place in the cosmos.

The Setting of Sea of Lies: A World of Wonder and Intrigue

Gliese 667Cc isn’t just a scientific marvel—it’s the stunning backdrop for the upcoming science fiction novel Sea of Lies. Set on this terraformed exoplanet, renamed Gliese in the story, the book follows Bard Lao as he navigates a society descended from a generation ship, now controlled by the Soul AI. The crimson skies, the terminator zone’s twilight beauty, and the looming presence of three stars set the stage for a tale of love, betrayal, and machiavellian maneuvering. As Lao uncovers secrets about Presidium’s eugenic foundations and embarks on a perilous mission to Savage Earth, the hauntingly beautiful landscape of Gliese 667Cc mirrors the tension and wonder of his journey. Don’t miss Sea of Lies—pre-order your copy today and get ready to explore a world where the skies are as captivating as the story itself!

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January Newsletter with Free Books Link

Spending Christmas Morning with My 3-Year-Old Grandson

There’s a singular delight that envelops Christmas, especially when you’re spending it with your spirited 3-year-old grandson. The joy reflected in his curious eyes as they see freshly the amazement of this joyful day is a thrill to witness.

The anticipation in the house is palpable as tiny feet patter across the floor, eager to uncover what awaits under the glistening tree. Wrapping paper flies like confetti, revealing carefully chosen gifts that elicit squeals of delight. The joy on their faces, pure and unfiltered, is nothing short of heartwarming.

Engaging with a 3-year-old on Christmas morning is like conducting a symphony of happiness. Every moment becomes an opportunity for fun and exploration. It’s not just about the gifts; it’s about the time spent together, creating memories that will last a lifetime. These moments aren’t just about play; they’re about fostering imagination, creativity, and the bond between you.

The joy of Christmas extends beyond the day. It’s about sharing giggles over spilled cocoa, and a kitchen filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies—creating traditions that will become the fabric of their childhood memories.

I try to remember, it’s okay if things aren’t picture-perfect. I embrace the chaos and the occasional meltdowns—they’re all part of this beautifully messy journey.

I’ve spent most of the last decade running away from my prior life, determined to forge a new future by retiring abroad. This Christmas, I reveled in the magic of the season and let the wonder in my grandchild’s eyes remind me of the beauty in life’s simplest pleasures. Instead of walking around saying, “Bah! Humbug!” I resolved to embrace every cuddle, every shared giggle, and every heartfelt “I love you.” After all, these moments are the real gifts that make this season truly charmed.

I’d love to include some photos of him making a gingerbread house, riding the Christmas train at the mall, and opening presents, but his parents have the good sense to be cautious about putting him out on the internet. So instead, I give you our Florida weather forecast from Christmas Eve:
Available free in Kindle Unlimited for all of January. 
Click here to get them now!
Work in Progress

Every author reaches at least one point in creating a book where the entire concept seems hopelessly overwhelming. For me, it comes when I’ve set all the characters and plotlines in motion and it’s time to weave the strands together into a coherent tapestry. Sci-fi writers don the mantle of futurists, envisioning worlds yet to come while dissecting the present with a discerning eye. It’s a canvas for contemplating the rapid evolution of technology, society, and human behavior. Particularly in a world like today’s, where changes are coming fast and frantic, making no sense and threatening disaster, it helps to imagine what might happen in five hundred years. It brings perspective.

The beauty of science fiction lies in its ability to extrapolate current trends and speculate on their potential outcomes. As I work on the Savage Earth novels, the worldbuilding involves delving into the impact of scientific advancements, societal shifts, and the fusion of humanity with technology. By envisioning these futures, my goal is not only to entertain, but also to engage in a deep exploration of the forces propelling our world forward. I firmly retain the basic facts of human nature and conceive how they might collide with the consequences of change.

This book trilogy examines the societal implications of genetic engineering, faster-than-light space travel, and the restructuring of human experience through technology. Ultimately, though, it will be a story of human beings questioning the ethical, moral, and existential dilemmas of culture, connection, and commitment (in that sense, all science fiction is just a retelling of Shelley’s Frankenstein). The “what ifs” that steer the trajectory of the heros and villains include continuations of today’s deep shifts in the meanings of family and love, as well as of power and art.

Maybe that’s why I keep feeling a profound urge to write poetry of the unfathomable currents of life’s vicissitudes. Ultimately, science-fiction authors aren’t just storytellers; we are observers of the present, interpreters of the past, and architects of the future.
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Book 3: Catallaxis!

Today is the big day. The final installment of the Eupocalypse trilogy is available on Amazon (Kindle and paperback) as well as Nook, Apple Books, Kobo, and as a PDF.

For me as an author, this is a big milestone. This series of thriller/visionary novels has been in progress for three years. Its depiction of the transformation of the world has paralleled the destruction (due to disabling illnesses and adverse professional-practice conditions) and the rebuilding of my own life overseas during the same time period.

In that time, I’ve had a chance to re-sharpen my writing and editing skills and rediscover and reprioritize my life and values. I thank all the readers and authors who’ve helped me along the way and who’ve trusted their work to my editing skills.

Some of you have urged me to keep writing in the Eupocalypse world, but the ctenophores aren’t summoning me back just yet. Who knows what tomorrow may bring? Whatever it is, this trilogy has been a voyage of discovery for me. I humbly extend my hope that it may be the same for you as a reader.

–Peri

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Spotlight on AFRICOM Bases

The African bases featured in the latest book of the Eupocalypse series, Catallaxis, releasing January 31, are largely hidden from the public eye and the awareness of the US taxpayers who finance them.

A recent investigation by the Intercept, based on documents obtained from U.S. Africa Command via the Freedom of Information Act, revealed a network of 34 bases heavily clustered in the north and west of that continent as well as in the Horn of Africa. AFRICOM’s “strategic posture” consists of larger “enduring” outposts, including two forward operating sites (FOSes), 12 cooperative security locations (CSLs), and 20 more austere sites known as contingency locations (CLs).

For the full article quoted above, check: https://consortiumnews.com/2019/01/16/bases-bases-everywhere-except-in-pentagons-report/

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Catallaxis: Almost Ready!

I am so excited I can’t contain myself! I just finished the final readthrough of the final draft of the final book in the Eupocalypse trilogy! There’s cover set-up and all the housekeeping chores that have to be done to get the book into your hands…or onto your electronic device!

It’s a bittersweet moment for an author to let the story stand on its own and toddle off into the world. But how else can I share the excitement?

 

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Excerpt From: Peri Dwyer Worrell. “Watch It Burn” (Eupocalypse, #2), Chapter 36

Bad things happen

when you’re a brave adventurer looking for risk in a cruel world. Such things happen to wealthy girls in country-club neighborhoods and to poor girls who grow up in the slums. Sometimes you never see the guy again (other times he winds up nominated to the Supreme Court)…

“Once she was lying down in the dark, the ghosts of her past that Mother Laura had summoned came back to haunt her. She remembered her first love; she fifteen and eager to dispose of her virginity, Dennis a worldly-wise (or so it seemed) sixteen, and more than willing to help. They used to find little niches like this one in the unmowed corners of the parks, around the backs of alleys they’d slip their supple teenaged bodies through chain-link fence to get into, or (her favorite) on a blanket on the roof of his apartment building, the sun in its blazing heat bringing out the contrast of his brown skin with her pale whiteness.
One day, he lay on one elbow after they’d made love, stroking her sleek, firm adolescent body, and said, “One day, we’ll be married and have a daughter. She’ll have café-au-lait skin and eyes as green as yours.” D.D. smiled now, remembering.
Then she remembered Yvonne, Dennis’s mother, who had figured out their oh-so-transparent lies and gumshoed them up onto the roof. D.D. in her bra, picking up her shirt to pull it on, turning and coming face to face with Yvonne’s furious demand that they come downstairs right now!
Delaying it, dressing slowly and apprehensively, dragging their feet down twenty-four flights, to find Yvonne and D.D.’s parents embedded in the living room. Yvonne shrieking into her face words like whore and slut and aren’t you ashamed? D.D.’s mother and father silently taking in the cruelty, speechless and unsure how to react, Dennis posed rigidly, expressionless, a stone, not looking at her or taking her hand, underneath the Eldridge Cleaver poster on the wall.
No, I am not ashamed. I will never be ashamed. And I am never coming back.
Her parents still sitting, still impassive, on Yvonne’s sofa. The door slamming behind her so satisfyingly, the doorman downstairs backing up a step when he saw her furious tear-streaked face. She didn’t remember walking home, but she would have stopped the tears and put on a street face, because crying white girl’s tears in the street of that neighborhood was like slinging a bucket of chum to sharks.

Getting to her walk-up tenement building somehow. Unlocking the first door, to the street, and Calvin coming up, the boy who had been eyeing her when she walked by the crowd of Puerto Rican and black boys who hung out on the next street—eyeing her but not saying anything crude or making kissing noises or hissing sounds, like some of them did. She’d smiled at him a few times before she met Dennis, and even wrote in her diary that he was cute, making a little heart instead of the dot over the “i” in his name.

Calvin was suddenly behind her in the entryway as she fitted her key in the second door and turned it, and then he was pressing her against the wall at the foot of the stairs, bigger and more solid than she’d thought, his mouth bruising hers and his chest squeezing the air out of her lungs. Laughing when she struggled to push him off her, covering her mouth with his again when she finally got enough breath to try to scream, his hands, his cock, his rancid smell, the pain, and too late, the sound of a door opening upstairs and another tenant clattering down the stairwell, five floors up.

He’d ghosted. She’d pulled up her shorts and run inside her family’s empty apartment before anyone could see her like that. She had cried herself to sleep, as she was crying now.

…And waking at the first light of dawn, shivering and wet with dew, with hands and face bloated with bug bites.”

 

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The South

There’s a reason the first chapter of Machine Sickness starts in the South. There’s a reason Deirdre Davis is a southerner. That wasn’t by chance, and it wasn’t solely because I chose to follow the classic writer’s advice to “write what you know.” I have lived in the southern USA for more of my life than anywhere else, but I was born in the West, grew up in New York City,  went to undergrad school in Chicago, got my Doctor of Chiropractic degree in Atlanta, and now I live in Mexico.

The shame and rage that Americans feel about the hypocrisy of a nation supposedly based on freedom that compromised that principle for political unity, is othered and alienated and transferred to the South. To read mainstream media, you would think that slavery, legally-mandated segregation, racial massacres, and lynching were isolated only in the South and performed only by Southerners, whereas the truth is that these abhorrent practices were common in the North even after slave importation was banned and even after the passage of the 13th Amendment. Reading mainstream media, you’d imagine that the people whom it is still okay to refer to by ethnic pejoratives like “redneck” and “hillbilly” (usually preceded by the word “ignorant”), were the ones responsible for slavery, when the “poor white trash” of the South were overwhelmingly not slave owners and some suffered from a job market depressed by slave labor. While the elite generals of the Union were wined and dined by plantation owners, the 1-percenters of their day, these people were scorned. The plagues of domestic violence, alcoholism, and learned economic helplessness descended through generations.

The historical awareness among Scots-Irish descendants of being on the losing side of the Civil War is exacerbated by the tradition of military honor and clan loyalty passed down from their gaelic-language-speaking ancestors of the British Isles. The sense of unfair play of small holders, sharecroppers, and agricultural workers, whose red necks came from exposing white skin to the Southern sun while growing the raw materials for Northern factories, yielded a coarse and sometimes grim sense of humor, so that DD remembers her mother saying she was “always one to call a spade a goddam shovel.”

In DD, you have a character somewhat like Detective Clarice Starling in the Hannibal Lecter stories. In one prison interview scene, Hannibal gets under Clarice’s skin by pointing out that she is only a couple of generations removed “from poor white trash.” DD is a brilliant scientist, a highly educated woman, but she will never completely shake the hypervigilance and pragmatism of her background; her family relationships reflect a modern alienation as well as epigenetic dysfunction; she doesn’t design or engineer, she tinkers. She’s acutely aware of physical threats to her safety in ways that people who’ve always felt safe are not, but what goes unstated is that she’s also aware of those who are superlatively safe and don’t feel like it.

Yet, the Eupocalypse is an opportunity to start over in a world where notions of class and wealth, risk and safety, are recalibrated. It’s a world where the materials of modern life are lost, but the ideas are not.

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Machine Sickness Spreads!

You asked, you received!

The suspenseful sci-fi thriller Machine Sickness is now available in multiple formats, not just Kindle. To get it in your favorite, B&N, Apple e-books, Kobo, and more formats, click here:

Machine Sickness

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Free e-Book Sunday and Monday

As a special promotion to celebrate its redesigned cover, Machine Sickness will be free on Amazon for two days only: Sunday, November 5, and Monday, November 6. This is your opportunity to read Book 1 of the Eupocalypse series for free.

 

Download it now!

Machine Sickness: The Eupocalypse Series: Book 1
Download it free for two days only!
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Bolivar Beauty

Watching my friends on social media trying who are slowly recuperating from Harvey’s devastation, I recall the beauty of the Bolivar peninsula, east of Houston. I was so enamored of the beauty of the area when I visited there about three years ago that I located much of the early part of Machine Sickness in the area.  The people of the area struck me as deeply self-reliant and resourceful, and that was part of why I set the beginning of the global catastrophe as occurring in the offshore oil platforms of the Texas Gulf Coast. While disaster fiction can be entertaining, it is heartbreaking to think of a real-life disaster striking the area described in the book:

 

Right? Or left? To her left, a jacked-up pickup truck was parked on the sand about a quarter mile away, but she didn’t see the occupants. She turned right instead and picked a random destination for her walk. Half a mile or so south was a cheerful apricot-colored house right across from a head of sand pointed into the water; that was her mark. She started towards it, savoring the sun on the left side of her face. The mid-morning temperature was just right for a walk, with a breeze that was cooling but not icy, and she settled into a soft-kneed, easy pace on the sand. Low wavelets broke with soft sighing sounds. A lone pelican cruised by, south-to-north, perhaps fifty feet above the waves. She swung her arms as she walked, making huge circles like 3D snow-angel wings, trying to release the road tension from her neck. She paused and shaded her eyes, turning in a circle.
The distant truck’s occupants turned out to be a white man and woman, now seated on a blanket and watching a small beige child play with a pail and shovel. DD spotted the oil rigs, just far enough out that one could see them only on the clearest of days, like today. And there was something moving near the rigs, a boat, too far out even to get an idea if it was a small, slow, close craft or a large, fast, far one.

And another snippet about the ferry between Galveston and Bolivar:

At the boarding station, she obeyed the ferry crew, who gestured with neon-yellow gloves for her to take lane number three. She pulled her little SUV in line where it was eclipsed behind a customized Ford Expedition, and lilliputianized next to an F-350 (yes, I’m in Texas, truck capital of the USA). She cut off the engine. The sun was two fingers’ breadth from setting and the bay was choppy, with steely gray waves in sharp regular rows like a bastard-cut file. The fall air was fresher now that the sun was low. A dolphin’s supple back gleamed briefly among the waves. Pelicans circled and dropped, lunging into the water with flapping feet.

The ferry’s motor was running, a slowly oscillating bass growl she could feel through the soles of her feet and up into her hips. She returned to her car and checked her e-mail: nothing pressing. She watched a tiny tugboat push a gigantic oil platform towards the cluster of refineries ashore. A group of laughing children ran along the beach. She glanced back down at her phone, then looked up and slammed her foot on the brake in panic, briefly disoriented seeing the dock pylons moving past her as the boat left its berth. The ship’s start had been so gradual she hadn’t felt the movement.

She got out of the car again and circled the walkways around the deck. Reaching the rail at the bow, she stood next to a bronze-faced Hispanic family: dad, mom, and three girls with silky long black hair, the youngest’s in two long braids. The sunset comprised utterly saturated, extravagant streaks of lemon yellow, apricot, and lavender. Another dolphin! The latex-shiny grey fin and back were gone, back below the whitecaps, even as she exclaimed aloud, “Dolphin!” The family scanned for it in vain, the little girl bouncing on her toes. DD smiled, thinking of her own innocent little girl, years ago, and a familiar pang of grief-guilt-fear shot down the smile, just as quickly.

The lights of Houston twinkled to life on the horizon below the sunset. She checked her phone again; five full bars of coverage, but still no response from Tim.

I know the people in the area are part of a strong and caring community, and they will help one another recuperate from the storm. As a believer in radical decentralization, I am always looking for local groups which put most of their resources into  love in action. Accordingly, I made a donation to the Cajun Navy, and I encourage you to donate as well.

Peri Dwyer Worrell