The High Country

Wash Out Your Hideously Dirty Minds!
No, this is nothing to do with illegal drugs.  Nor about the late nineteenth century, when you could get all sorts of pharmaceuticals that are now illegal, and get them over the pharmacist's counter.
     Nor is it yet about that elegaic Western from Sam Pekinpah, "Ride The High Country", which is one of his best, and you should see it if possible -
     But I digress (as I often do).  I am talking about a concept rather than a concrete situation or place: living above the Earth in orbit.  Art?

A Bernal Sphere as example

     The reason I mention this is because, nearing the end of "Neuromancer", the action has shifted to 'Freeside', a gigantic cylindrical space habitat.  Far too big to be called a space station.  Anyway, as Your Humble Scribe is a bit of a pedantic hair-splitter about things like this, I wondered how it got assembled?  It appears to use enormous amounts of concrete, which William Gibson - the author, not someone I just chose at random - implies has been created using lunar stone.
     Here an aside.  Lunar regolith, which is the surface layer of dust you see on the Moon, has never been eroded, as there's no atmosphere or weather on the Moon.  Consequently, it remains very sharp-edged and is potentially dangerous if inhaled or present in electrical systems.  Art?

Lunar regolith

     Conversely, this might make it an even better aggregate for concrete than the sand we use down here on Earth, as the grains would tend to lock together, which wouldn't happen with sand grains.
     Back to Freeside.  Presumably this structure took years to build, what with having to loft thousands of tons of construction materials into orbit.  This is something that bothers me when we witness other, equally gigantic structures in Earth orbit.

This sucker, for example

     This is essentially a city in space.  Was it constructed in stages?  Did they use transporter technology to send sub-components into orbit?  What role does the enormous stem have, as the 'dock' bit seems pretty self-sufficient?
     - and so on.  Go on, the next time you see a megastructure in orbit, ask yourself how it got there.  I dare you.
     Okay, motley, I've got the telescope, let's see if we can spot the ISS!

I Cheated
Yes Yes Yes, I do this all the time, it's only when I admit it openly that you realise.
     Anyway, remember earlier today when I pondered how far we'd gotten along the 51 Tip Top Sci-Fi books?  I'm afraid I went back in to where I'd been and scrolled down, and there are a lot of books still left to catalogue.  I didn't count, just know that there's a lot.
     So, without further ado -

Yup, as of quite recently

     I've seen the old television series, and have now read the full-length restored version.  I have long thought Ol' Steve evokes small-town South Canada wonderfully; as foreigners, we abroad tend to forget that South Canada is a bit more than New York, San Francisco and Chicago.  There is a long preamble before the bottom falls out of the world, which establishes our lead characters, and then you get the apocalypse, and the even more unsettling aftermath.  It's eventually a battle between Good and Evil.  If you do read it, be sure to have Google to hand, as there are several pop culture references to South Canadian artefacts which can puzzle those of us who do not live there.
     Next!

"Why do I have such useless forearms?" <sobs quietly>

     Ol' Mike was an extremely clever chap, no question of that, with a load of degrees and a medical background, and an ability to create convincing works of fiction.  I'm sure there are websites and column inches and bitter hating critics out there saying "This technique of creating dinosaurs is ridiculously impossible!"  Yes, maybe so - heck, he wasn't putting forward a methodology of really cloning dinosaurs - but it SOUNDS convincing enough to suspend disbelief, which is all an author can ask for.  Oh, and yes, I have read it.  Nearly forgot to add that in.

From Dinosaurs To Dragons
Flying ones, that is.  I referred yesterday to "Spooky", which was the call-sign for a small South Canadian air unit during the Vietnam Unpleasantness.  They flew ancient Dakota planes of Second Unpleasantness vintage, which were equipped with a trio of General Electric miniguns (surely the worst description ever), and were intended to back up troops on the ground by suppressing the enemy.
     Which they did.  Art?

Someone on the ground is going to have an exceedingly bad time of it

     This vintage aircraft could loiter over a target for hours, dropping flares if it was night, and walking in the gunfire if there were any ground observers.  What made it terrifying was the rate of fire of those mini-guns - count "One Two Three" and that would be 300 bullets fired.  One statistic was that Spooky could put a bullet in every square inch of a football field in 10 seconds.  This is why grunts on the ground called it "Puff The Magic Dragon".  Michael Herr, in "Dispatches" describes seeing Spooky in action at night on a couple of occasions, where there was an unending ribbon of red tracer rounds flying from sky to ground.  "Spooky understands," said the watching troops.

Red sky at night -

     This antique airframe was subsequently replaced by the even more terrifying C130 gunship - but I think that's enough carnage for tonight.

Finally - 
My colleague Ben at work, a history graduate, asked if I could bring in a First Unpleasantness memoir, as he is quite fed up of having to read "All Quiet On The Western Front", which is the memoir by the Teuton Ernst Junger.  Okay, I did reply with three British books, which was perhaps a bit too overwhelming, as Ben subsequently asked for only one at a time.  I got up on the ladder to check my Gigantic Stack Of Cupboard Books and - Hay Pesto! - immediately came across Guy Chapman's "A Passionate Prodigality", which is one I'd already mentioned.  Although I had the distinct recollection that Guy wasn't an officer, a minute's reading confirmed he was indeed.
     So, then, Ben -

Not a laff riot

     And with that, we are done!