In one of the first Star Trek movies — I can't recall which one right now, and I can't Google the answer because as I work on this, the remnants of Katrina have taken out my electricity — the theme was technology run amok. A space probe created by humans had been ostensibly souped up by some alien race, and upon its return to our solar system, came to the mistaken conclusion that humans were a parasitic infestation that must be wiped out.

My memory of the plot's details is admittedly shaky, but as I recall, Kirk and his original, pre-Spock second-in-command determined that the way to defeat the mutant space probe was to feed it circular logic to overwhelm its circuits and take it out of commission.

As I sit to write this Publisher's Page the old-fashioned way while I wait for the power to be restored, the thought of a terminally confused robot is just about all that comes to mind. Maybe because I can relate. This has been anything but a dull year for me personally, and with many things are buzzing around in my head that it's almost impossible to concentrate.

That's also the probable reason I'm having such a hard time trying to find a clear perspective on the past four years, to summarize flashquake's past and forecast its future.

Usually, I think of flashquake as an integral part of my life. It's almost like a child to me — something that requires constant care and feeding.

If you were to interrogate any parent at their child's fourth birthday party and give them 500 words in which to provide a synopsis of their child's life thus far, I doubt that the parent is going to dwell over-long on the child's difficulties with toilet training or the time he or she called the next-door neighbor a "poop-head."

They're far more likely to wax nostalgic about the things that really mattered — the mental video of the child's birth, the first words, the first steps, how the child has grown from a completely helpless infant into a full-fledged little person with a distinct personality all his or her own.

That's how I feel about flashquake.

Literature is not a field you enter if your priority is accumulating capital. Just ask anyone who writes literary work of any genre. But this is especially true for writers of short fiction — even more so for writers of flash literature.

No writer is going to cover their bills on what we're able to pay them, although we do what we can. Not for commerce — the mere exchange of money for goods — but to honor the art, the craft, and especially the artist. We honor and respect the fine writers and poets and the visual artists whose work graces our pages, and we're humbled by the fact they've trusted us with their progeny.

Yes, our baby's growing by all measures of growth, and I couldn't be prouder. And like any proud parent, I have dreams about where our child might go from here...