This story I am working on - a work in progress - I would like to have some criticism about it - but I will have more, probably tomorrow.
It is amazing, that, as I never have found the need to blather about myself - or - write in this manner whatsoever, I find it necessary to communicate the events of these past few months. I am a scientist, a chemist - as are my peers, and was happy to be that; and only that, until two months ago.
,ĶUntil.
It was a beautiful Spring Evening on the streets of District Four, as always. The dim rays of the sun, now brighter than usual, shined brilliantly through the arboretum-like canvas that was the Glass Dome. The sunshine skimmed and skipped across the rooftops of the small shops of the area quite beautifully. I was on my way to the Chemistry Utensil Shop of the area, for earlier during study I had broken a few necessary flasks. While browsing the shop,Äôs wares, I found the needed supplies, along with a few generic items that were more improved than tools of the previous day. I picked them up as well, paid the necessary credits, and then left, with a profound need to relax from the day,Äôs study. I headed toward the usual place - the refreshment area down the street.
There was much clatter as I entered the refreshment area - all of the fellow chemists were speaking of their recent study. One was boasting of his improvements on the current military formula for the ,Äúpaste,Äù of their ,Äústicky bomb,Äù. Another was discussing with a peer how he had a dilemma with his current assignment - improving upon a deodorizing formula used in District Two.
,ÄúHello, Joseph.,Äù The barman said, ,ÄúThe usual?,Äù
,ÄúYes, Percy.,Äù I said.
When I received my order, I began munching on nutritional supplement #49 along with a glass of purified water. As I was eating, I couldn,Äôt help but notice the peculiarities of the man sitting next to me. He looked disgruntled, and was awkwardly slumped over the bar, picking at his food, and grimacing as he put it in his mouth. He barely had a head of hair - usually people would wear caps in this instance. However, I finally recognized him.
,ÄúRonald Burns!,Äù. I said, enthusiastically. Ronald was renowned for his work in collaboration with District Two - the medical studies district - as a biochemist. At one time, he was part of the Hierarchy - able to choose his own work instead of having the state choose it for him.
,ÄúWhat of it?,Äù, he said, with a scornful look. ,ÄúOh, you,Äôre that Joseph Cardly fellow - aren,Äôt you? We worked together on that blasted Hanover project, correct?,Äù
,ÄúYes.,Äù I said, though shocked that he would refer to his studies as ,Äúblasted,Äù.
We talked no more, though I still did notice peculiarities about his manner - and he drank no water, but drank from some archaic silver flask, a container I hadn,Äôt seen in a long time. After a while, he staggered off, and his eccentric walk attracted the attention of fellow bar-goers.
I'll need more material before I can properly comment on it.
One thing though - You'll either need to change the tone and flavor of the writing, or adhere strictly to the current form.
By the time I had gotten home, I had completely forgotten about the incident at the refreshment area; my mind had stopped wandering, and was solely devoted to my studies. I was contemplating over how to complete my current assignment - improving the efficiency of the water purification process. Though it seemed their current chemicals used were affordable and good for the method, they needed some change, no matter how minor. I turned it around and around in my head, and came up with several ideas, until falling asleep in my chamber.
*BLEEP*
The loud alarm sounded throughout the entire district, signifying the time for all chemists to get back to their studies. After a long walk, and much forcing my way through the morning commute, I arrived at ChemLab # 5 in time. There, I found my working area, and tested ideas I had formed the night before - all had failed. I stood idle for a bit, pondering as to what other alternatives I could come up with - and an idea struck me. I plugged it into the computer terminal to see if it would *hypothetically* work - and it did - I went onto testing. It took several hours, but I was finally able to rig up a small filtering system (with given supplies for the assignment), and the chemicals were successful in purifying it. Also, they were economically cheaper to manufacture. I recorded it immediately into the computer terminal, at which point I had to wait a little while; the hierarchy would have to look over it.
They okayed it, and gave me another assignment: improving upon a cleaning product devised specifically for the absorption of oil, all while remaining cost-effective. I was given four days maximum in which to complete this.
I studied on this matter for the rest of the day, but the bell for home-going had tolled, so I went to the District Five commercial area again. I stopped by the shop, and picked up a few necessary items, but then went on to the refreshment area. The same routine again - I ordered my #49 and water (which seemed better-tasting now). Then, while at the bar, I remembered of yesterday,Äôs incident with Ronald Burns. I looked out the corner of my eye, and he was sitting a seat down, picking at his food and sipping his water.
I said, feebly ,ÄúHello, Ronald.,Äù
He responded ,ÄúHello, Joseph.,Äù
There was a bit of awkward silence, but he wasn,Äôt as awkward acting as last time - though still seemed disgruntled.
,ÄúAre you ill?,Äù I asked, hoping to break the silence.
,ÄúHrmph, I wonder,Ķ,Äù
He then turned and looked sharply at me, and seemed to be studying my countenance.
,ÄúYou haven,Äôt been studying enough - have you? No, they don,Äôt make you work hard enough. You have time to actually think once in a while. I can see it in your face; don,Äôt let them promote you, kid, they,Äôll make your head fill to the brim with that funk.,Äù
I stood there, amazed; at the time, I couldn,Äôt make sense of any of it. I was curious, but I could only put small pieces of what he said, out of context, and make sense of them.
He then turned from my face, went through his pockets, and brought out a pen. He then got one of the bar napkins, and scribbled on it. He shoved the note in my hand, got up, and left immediately. I then looked at the napkin - the writing upon it was heavily smudged, but I was able to make it out.
,ÄúTomorrow, after study - District 5, demolition works #3.,Äù
I wondered why he wanted to meet privately - and in the Physics Studies District, of all places. On my way home, I wondered why - but I mostly speculated on what his claims meant. Did he mean I was studying too little, or too much? The latter was ludicrous, but he worded it in a manner that made it vaguely appear to be both. I turned this over and over in my head through the night; and as I was in my chamber, going to sleep.
Ok, I'm grooving on this. Keep it up.
i always need to find a littlebit of time to read the longer pieces, but be assured, as long as this keeps getting bumped, i'll catch it when i have the 10 minutes of focus i need for it ;-)
Quote from: LMNO on April 05, 2007, 01:15:54 PM
Ok, I'm grooving on this. Keep it up.
Quote from: triple zero on April 05, 2007, 01:18:21 PM
i always need to find a littlebit of time to read the longer pieces, but be assured, as long as this keeps getting bumped, i'll catch it when i have the 10 minutes of focus i need for it ;-)
Otay.
PART 2 (The last two parts were all Part 1)
*BLEEP*
I awoke, quite drowsily. I promptly made my way to ChemLab #5, where I began study. I ran quite a few tests on possible ways to improve upon the oil absorption formula, but none worked. There were those that did the job better, but weren,Äôt as financially affordable as what was in current usage. After those, I came up with a few more ideas, but once I put them on paper, they didn,Äôt seem at all practical. I continued coming up with impractical ideas until the home-going bell rang.
As usual, I went to the shop and picked up a few essential items, that were improved upon from yesterday. As I was leaving the shop, I headed on my way to the refreshment area - but then it struck me. I had completely forgotten about Ronald Burns. Hurriedly, I called for a taxi. One arrived, and I ordered him to take me to District Five, to the demolition works area. The closer we got to the physics district, the louder the clanging was - the district was alive with many sounds as I got there: beeps, whistles, the smashing of large objects such as cars. I was still wondering why he would want to meet in such a noisy place, especially at the epicenter of it, the demolition works.
When I got there, I looked for are #3, and found it. It was walled in, for the most part, and I couldn,Äôt figure out where he would be. However, while looking around, I saw a hand motioning me from the corner of the wall - Ronald Burns. I went around the corner, and saw him. It was rather dark, because the alley was covered by the concrete that connected demolition works #3 to #2. He motioned me forward again (though I could barely see his figure). Once I got to him, my eyes had fairly adjusted, and I could make out his face. His lips were moving, but I could not hear him due to the sounds in the area. I got closer, and turned my left ear towards him.
,ÄúYou,Äôve taken a while, Joseph.,Äù he stated.
,ÄúYes, I nearly forgot about meeting you here - why did you want to meet here?,Äù
,ÄúMicrophones. They,Äôre scattered all over this damned place. They haven,Äôt found a way to drown out the sound in the demolition works, so here we are. I knew you would come.,Äù
,ÄúWhy speak here, then? What did you want to say without the presence of microphones?,Äù
,ÄúI think you have a vague idea. You know perfectly well, in the back of your mind, what,Äôs going on here.,Äù
,ÄúStudy. You spoke of study in strange terms.,Äù
,ÄúNo, I spoke of work in ,Äòstrange,Äô terms. What you and I am doing is not study, it,Äôs work. Study romanticizes what you are doing in that lab quite a bit - what you are doing is work.,Äù
,ÄúWhat,Äôs the difference? I go to work, go home from work, and --,Äù
He interrupted ,ÄúYou,Äôre supposed to get paid for work, boy - you,Äôre being enslaved. You go to work, go home from work, eat, sleep, drink water, and then go back to work again. All this - for instance - for yesterday, when you invented a new way for the state to purify the water. You didn,Äôt get anything for succeeding, did you? No. Yet everybody here, and everybody outside, got cleaner water for your slavery.,Äù
,ÄúOutside?,Äù
,ÄúYou weren,Äôt aware of there being an outside?,Äù
,ÄúYes, scientifically there is, but we,Äôre the complex - this is where we live, where everybody lives.,Äù
,ÄúHave you always went blindly with that?,Äù
,Äú-No. I,Äôve wondered where the supplies would be coming from. Not all of them could come from the complex - but how is that relevant?,Äù
,ÄúIt,Äôs relevant because you,Äôre effecting the outside - everything this complex does is for the outside. Everything that was taught to you in school said that this was irrelevant, and only study - work, was relevant. They taught you formulas, equations, scientific facts about chemistry, and that was it. They filled your head with it, and pushed you out - only a few days ago at the age of sixteen. They seem to be finishing your lessons younger and younger - I remember being twenty-two when I was released to work. And now nothing at all matters, except study. They,Äôre going to promote you - I can see it in your face; your head hasn,Äôt been completely filled yet - they need to promote you so you can think of study, and only study.,Äù
I was a bit struck by what he was saying - it was true, and yet when applied in negative context it sounded horrific. I asked him what was outside, but that,Äôs where he stumbled. He said that it was time for him to go to District Four, and suggested I did the same. He walked down the other end of the alley and disappeared around the corner.
I called for a taxi, it came, and I asked the driver to take me to the District Four living area. When I got home, I nearly could not go to sleep, thinking of what had been said. I turned it over and over in my mind - and was able to accept his words, but was unable to completely consider their relevance. I finally got to sleep in my chamber.
Btw I prolly wont be posting another part for a bit.
Hey! I'm really enjoying this, now that i've had a chance to read it properly.
I thought it was getting a bit Orwellian (in a repetion of 1984 kind of way), but it did change quite suddenly. In a good way.
~~~~~Meh.... I'm no literary critic....
Quote from: Payne on April 06, 2007, 12:02:07 AM
I thought it was getting a bit Orwellian (in a repetion of 1984 kind of way), but it did change quite suddenly. In a good way.
Was originally inspired by that type of literature (Brave New World, 1984, We, F. 451, etc), but I was inspired in Chemistry class, two days ago, about a different type of Utopian society.
One in which, contrary to said novels, the spread of total ignorance was not the aim. It would be to fill the person's head with knowledge that would benefit the state - and to
literally fill the person's head with it, so they would be able to think of nothing else. Just their studies.
Yeah, that was the difference I noticed between this and the genre I refered to. A futuristic(-ish) world where even science has been packaged down and controlled into a day by day job.
Like'say, I'm no critic and await the next installment.
I do indeed like where this is going.
It resonates very well, but it doesn't beat you over the head with it.
Well, thankyou.
more
PART 3
*BLEEP*
The alarm resounded again, but this time, I awoke startled. I was somehow surprised by it, and I bumped my head quite hard on the ceiling of my chamber. After flinching back in pain, I angrily jabbed the button at my side, opening it. I sat up and stumbled out of the casket-like bed, still in pain. However, I was able to recuperate and go to work, drowsy as I was. I got to ChemLab #5, but as I was still quite tired out, I basically sat and did nothing for ten minutes. I knew I had to get back to my studies, however, and started running some tests on the oil absorption particles.
Then, an idea struck me; I thought of a compound that would allow for more vacuous space within the particles, while not causing them to collapse due to the copious amounts of oil within them. I ran it through the computer terminal, and it validated this method, so I went on to make some particles using this compound. I tested them, and they worked; absorbing 20% more oil than before, while remaining at the same cost-effectiveness. I promptly sent the data to hierarchy, and they okayed it after thirty minutes. The computer terminal began sputtering, and a voice came on.
,ÄúDue to your study efficiency, we have decided to promote you. Congratulations, you will now be moving on to more crucial study. With your increase in credits, you can now buy more advanced tools. Your next study will be a collaboration with a ,ÄúDarren Smith,Äù in the medical district; you are to develop a solution for eliminating a certain virus in human beings. You have five days. We will have to organize for your collaboration, but please familiarize yourself with the subject in the meantime. You have a maximum of five days to work on this study.,Äù
At first, I had a sense of accomplishment, but it quickly dwindled into a sense of fear. Promotion was one of the things Ronald admonished against - and very forebodingly. I knew I couldn,Äôt decline the promotion without warranting suspicion - but I wondered how I would go about losing it. I looked over the subject material for the project, but the thought kept running through my mind - along with other things Ronald had told me. The bell for home-going rang, and I hurried straightaway to the refreshment area, not even stopping by the wares shop.
I went to the bar and ordered, this time, a #35 and some water. I looked to my side, and saw Ronald Burns sitting beside me.
,ÄúWe must stop seeing each other here, boy.,Äù , he said.
,ÄúWhy?,Äù
,ÄúWe meet all the time, at this place - they,Äôll grow suspicious. No more meetings here.,Äù
,ÄúThen, where?,Äù
,ÄúThere is a private area I know of - supervised by a friend. We meet in District Three, the Educational District. There is a building there - my friend teaches in it. Go to School #2, after study in two days, to room #13. However, do not take a taxi directly there. Take one to another area in the district, preferably as far away as possible.,Äù
,ÄúI got promoted.,Äù
As I said that, he looked at me inquisitively. ,ÄúI knew they would. Just take my advice: make them think you are doing your job. Perhaps even do it, but never come up with a viable solution.,Äù
He then left, and I sat there, eating my #35 and drinking my water, thinking about what he said, and memorized where he said to report to. After eating, I left and went home, to go to sleep in my chamber.
And....more please.
Part 3 gets the :mittens:
PART 4
Two days passed, and they were of little consequence. I met Darren Smith in District Two, and we went over many things about eliminating the virus. We studied it,Äôs chemical properties, theorized about different solutions that would harm it but not the surrounding organism. Though I faltered in my concentration many times, I at least appeared to be working, and we actually made some progress.
Then there was the meeting, which I had been anticipating all those days. I took a taxi to District Three, next to a living area away from the School area. I walked there (It was rather busy, they had just released the students from school), and found School #2. It was a black, obelisk-like structure, and I probably wouldn,Äôt have found the door if I wasn,Äôt already vaguely familiar with it. I found room #13, and entered. There, I saw six people in the classroom including Ronald Burns; all of the faces besides his were unfamiliar to me.
Ronald introduced me to them. There was the Physics teacher that taught in the place, Mark Carrey; a 24-year old that worked in District Six (The Electronics Studies District) by the name of Gerald Themis; and three others from District Two, first names of Isaac, Ishmael, and Bob, accordingly. In the bright light, I noticed a few things about Richard,Äôs appearance that I had not seen in the dim light of the bar or the blackness of the alleyway. He had the appearance of an old man, yet was only thirty. He had a face like distressed leather, and his black hair was lacking, and it was combed back as if to hide a bald spot.
We went on to the meeting. The 24-year old from District Six, Gerald, opened, and spoke of advances in spying technology of the state. He handed out several devices that would ,Äúphase out,Äù the improved microphones spread throughout the complex. He admonished against using them often, because the state would become suspicious. Ronald Burns was sitting next to me, and he leaned towards me and explained he had used them when we met in the bar. The professor, Mark, then came up, and said he had used technology from Gerald to put the microphones and cameras in the classroom on a loop.
Then, Ronald began speaking. He started going on about the history of the Complex. He found out much about the original intentions of the Complex when he worked with the hierarchy. It was a voluntary project; scientists from all over the nation would flock here to work for the state, and help the state in its research. The Complex was like this for a while, until the *voluntary* scientists in District Two began research in genetic engineering. Those scientists came up with a cure for any inefficiencies within the Complex, by *making* the minds and bringing the up within the Complex. Their knowledge in genetic engineering allowed them to specifically make humans with superior minds. In forty years,Äô time, the Complex had not a single imported scientist within it; just those made in laboratories.
This may seem frightening to the reader, but, actually, I had never truly thought of any alternatives. I thought I was, basically, just ,Äúthere,Äù.
Then, in the back of my mind, I was wondering if the Complex,Äôs doings were really, in a sense, ,Äúevil,Äú. The state did all these things, but were they unjust? Why would one expect more from the state? How could one tell, with absolute certainty, that the Complex had a worse standard of living than, say, the outside?
I asked all these questions, and Ronald answered them; he knew what the outside was like. He,Äôd seen it with his own eyes; how they lived, how they birthed, how they played. The outside was, quite simply, enslaving us, and putting the least into our upkeep while profiting off our knowledge.
Though it may seem odd to go off on claims of an old drunkard, these facts infuriated me.
After this speech, we began talking of ways to spread the word to other scientists, and to spread discord throughout the state, perhaps even overthrowing it. Through all their talks, they always hit a wall somewhere, and had to think of something else.
I had noticed there was one thing that they did not bring up, and so I interrupted. ,ÄúCould we influence the outside? We could somehow get out of the Complex, and at least see what it is like, and perhaps spread word if the outside, like us, was also ignorant.,Äù
,Äú,ĶBut we would have to escape the complex.,Äù said the professor.
,ÄúYes, but is that something so impossible?,Äù
The question was of great interest, and we spoke of ways for a while. However, one member, noticing the time, said it was time to leave. Ronald went up and spoke again, telling all of the members to find methods that would be helpful to this endeavor, and to meet in seven days, in which we would plan.
We then walked out one by one, I being the first to go. I went to the living area of the district, and called for a taxi. It took me to my living area in District Four, and I slept in my chamber there.
A comment: There seems to be a general consensus that what the complex had done is a bad thing, and strife must be sown to defeat it.
But that seems like an outside judgement. I really don't think our protagonist would leap to that conclusion so readily. Why is the concept of genetically engineered humans doing research for a society considered to be a negative thing to somone who was raised their whole lives to essentially believe the opposite?
True, was thinking I should have been getting more into the protagonists' psyche, this is more or less a rough draft at the moment.
I'm not sure how I could remedy it at this point in time (w/o going back and editing), suggestions would be welcome
I think you'll have to edit to reflect that more, without going into the cheap tricks like flashback sequences or anything.
Any other thing I can think of doesn't really fit in with the story.
It seems that the old drunk guy has decided it's a bad thing.
It's the protagonist who needs convincing.
Increase the dialog in the classroom, making a debate whether or not the Complex is good or bad, moral or immoral, and why. The protagonist can ask questions about why it's bad , if they produce good things, and the drunk can answer with comments on personal freedom, etc.
Could use a bit more of the sexx0r too.
srsly tho - shaping up fine so far IMO
:lulz: Unless you want gay sexxorz, can't do that yet.
Anyway, I'l have revisions and PART 5 tomorrow, now I feel like playing SimCity 4.
Again, even WITH the revisions, it's more or less a rough draft.
EDIT
Revisions are in bold, will probably make more later though (PART 4)
PART 5 coming up in a bit
PART FIVE
The next day, I went to my study as usual, but with the presence Darren Smith; we were still working on the viral project. We thought through things for a while, but we were going around in circles. He seemed to be suspicious, though; he observed that I wasn,Äôt really trying in the study, and that my full potential had not been reached. Out of fear, I began actually trying, and only a little while after this something struck me; I was inspired by past studies to develop a certain type of compound that would break down the viral particles, while not destroying any surrounding tissue. I was about to input the data into the computer terminal, but then the words of Ronald whizzed through my head, and I stalled. I decided not to even see if it would theoretically work, because the hierarchy would be looking through those files as well.
Three days passed, and I pretended not to know the cure. Darren and I went through all other possibilities, skipping around my theory; he knew less than I did.
,ÄúDue to your failure, you have been demoted,,Äù the computer terminal said, ,Äúand your allowed credits have decreased. We know you were trying your best at this, but we feel your mind is not developed enough for higher work. Keep on, and we are sorry for your demotion. You will now work on another project; improving upon a pesticide. You have five days.,Äù
It was the first time I had kept any scientific ideas to myself.
I went home sadly, but remembered what Ronald had said, and that my thoughts were my own.
Two more days passed, and I was working on the pesticide, anticipating the next meeting. The second night, however, provided something unexpected.
I was sleeping in my chamber, but I was awoken by a loud clanging at my chamber door. There were men in black suits, that I could barely make out because of the bright light behind them, trying to get in my chamber. I panicked, and in this panic, accidentally hit the button on my side. It opened, and the men grabbed me, and jabbed a needle in my arm. I was knocked out instantly.
I awoke in a familiar setting; there was Computer Terminal at the other end of the room, and my lab equipment at the other. It was my workroom in ChemLab #5. I stood up and checked the door; it was bolted tightly, and I could not get through.
,ÄúGreetings, Joseph. This is the hierarchy. It has come to our attention that your devotion to your studies has faltered; we are here to help you with your problem. We have a problem for you to solve before we continue on; we have a viral problem in District Two. We need you to help form a chemical that would eliminate this virus, yet not harm any surrounding tissue. You have one day - today's study day - to complete this.,Äù
Very deftly handled Idem!
:mittens:
Edit Part Four... It's and its are not the same. Also, you left off an m on them once.
Hierarchy probably should be capitalized because it's begining to function like a proper noun. Maybe capitalize it only when its agents are speaking or by people convinced of it, while dissidents use lowercase to deny it.
kinda like pratchett where characters can hear the spelling of others ;-)
i still haven't read this, but i will, promise!
Okay
In part 5, the word "littler" is odd. "Less than I did" might work better.
Also, not to influence the plot, but it might be cool if the virus he's refusing to work on is actually a deadly epidemic that's decimating the outside world.
His personal rebellion is causing the suffering of millions, you know? Great moral dilemma there.
i read it.
you get :mittens:
and i want more ;-)
Quote from: LMNO on April 11, 2007, 01:23:22 PM
In part 5, the word "littler" is odd. "Less than I did" might work better.
Also, not to influence the plot, but it might be cool if the virus he's refusing to work on is actually a deadly epidemic that's decimating the outside world.
His personal rebellion is causing the suffering of millions, you know? Great moral dilemma there.
but he doesn't know it because he can't see the outside world.
And when he does see the outside, it's a wasteland.
Or, it starts to decimate the complex, leaving him a tragic hero alive in a waste.
"I'm a tragic hero in this game called life. My chances go to zero, but I always will survive."
Hey, can I contribute a section or two to this, Idem?
Quote from: LMNO on April 11, 2007, 01:23:22 PM
Also, not to influence the plot, but it might be cool if the virus he's refusing to work on is actually a deadly epidemic that's decimating the outside world.
His personal rebellion is causing the suffering of millions, you know? Great moral dilemma there.
Actually... I wasn't thinking millions, but...
Quote from: saint aini on April 11, 2007, 03:45:25 PM
Hey, can I contribute a section or two to this, Idem?
You mean like do a part of it? Not in this thread, I'm afraid. Perhaps in a separate thread
PART SIX tomorrow
PART SIX
Joseph didn,Äôt feel inclined to obey the hierarchy,Äôs orders; he stood idly by for three hours, and then dozed off for a while. He was surprised that the hierarchy did not bother him in that time. When he awoke, he could not tell how much longer he had - there were no clocks in the room. He saw, by his door, a tray of nutritional supplement. Realizing how hungry he was, he scurried over to eat it. After he had consumed it, the hierarchy came back on.
,ÄúYou now have two hours to complete this. But you seem determined to not work on it. We are not torturers, Mr. Cardly; we won,Äôt force you to do your studies. But, you see, this particular assignment is unique in it,Äôs own right.,Äù
,ÄúWhat are you going on about?,Äù, I said, impatiently.
,ÄúIn this case, the State absolutely relies on your knowledge - as do its people. Many suffer from this disease outside of the complex.,Äù
,ÄúBut what would I care? I never have met anybody from the outside, why would I care about them? They could be my oppressors, for all I know. They might not even exist; especially as far as I,Äôm concerned.,Äù
,ÄúBecause you,Äôre affecting the outside, boy.,Äù
I realized what was going on, and panicked a little inside. ,ÄúWhat has happened to Ronald?,Äù
,ÄúThis is Ronald. Did you not know that all along?,Äù
,ÄúBut your voice,Ķ No, you,Äôre not Ronald.,Äù
,ÄúThe voice of the Hierarchy is absolute and the same; Ronald is of the Hierarchy. I am Ronald. But on to your studies. The people of the outside need your help, and, more importantly, the state needs it to function. Would you not consider these viable reasons to help? We need your knowledge; it is what makes us complete. Have you ever suffered from a disease?,Äù
,ÄúNo,Ķ,Äù
,ÄúSo why do you insist on causing others, who aren,Äôt as well-off as you, to suffer from something you couldn,Äôt obtain? The state of the Complex makes it impossible for disease to spread here. You knew that, and you assumed that the outside was like that, so you don,Äôt feel a devotion to your studies. That is what the state wants from you: devotion to your studies.,Äù
,ÄúBut-,Äù
,ÄúYou now have thirty minutes - we know you already have the knowledge. You just have to put it on paper. We, the state - and the people - need it. Thirty minutes - and if you don,Äôt help us - you will be free to leave.,Äù
The voice cut off, and there was total silence. I sat there, pondering; of Ronald,Äôs betrayal, of the state, of the people,Ķ less of the first two.
After a time that seemed very long, I went to the computer terminal to input the data I had stored in my head.
,ÄúIt isn,Äôt for the state. It isn,Äôt for the state. It isn,Äôt for the state.,Äù - I kept thinking this in my mind, as I input it into the computer terminal, and as I walked off to my chamber after the home-going bell tolled.
"Sauntered"?
I think you need another word. To me, "saunter" implies "swagger" implies "self-importance", which seems to be contrary to what the narrator should be feeling.
Why don't you have holographic agents popping up? A state that advanced should be able to do so.
Quote from: saint aini on April 13, 2007, 04:51:27 PM
Why don't you have holographic agents popping up? A state that advanced should be able to do so.
Did I imply they were quite that advanced?
I mean, might be something that's not cost-effective yet, or something. (And/or they find their abilities useless)
Next part tomorrow, srry, been feeling real lazy
Dont worry. Look at how bad LMNO and I am at getting pieces up in time. Compared to Mr Efficiency here, namely you, we r teh suXX0rz
PART SEVEN
It was a normal day at the bar; I had just come home from work (I had made a little progress in my studies), and was picking at my food quite despairingly. I was hungry, yet could not quit thinking of yesterday,Äôs events. I wondered what had happened to the others, but did not dare venture out to look for them. Then, as if my thoughts were being read, I felt a sharp jab on my right shoulder. I looked up, and recognized his face; it was Mark Carrey, the electronics expert from District Six. He was standing at my shoulder, and looked down on me, and asked,
,ÄúWho do you work for?,Äù
I did not answer, but he seemed to have an intuitive feeling as to what I was about to say. He smiled, and did not bother to say anymore. He seemed to be in a nervous hurry, and he pointed to the bar,Äôs exit, and headed that way. I could not see him anymore, but I followed his signal and left the bar. From there, I saw him standing at the street corner. Once the taxis passed, he scurried to the other end of the street, to a dimly-lit alleyway. I followed him there.
,ÄúThe complex upgraded its security drastically.,Äù, he said, ,ÄúThese cameras - they are no longer fooled by a simple automatic loop, nor are the microphones befuddled by fuzzy noise. Follow me, but keep your distance; we depart for District Two.,Äù
Though he seemed pushy, and I hadn,Äôt even spoken a word to him yet - I trusted him completely based on his manner at the meeting. He led me on down crowded streets, through dim alleyways, and over elevated walkways. It was such a long expedition to the Medical District, but we had to trek even more once we got there; the living complexes were in the middle of it. These, however, didn,Äôt look like the current living complexes, and then I realized - this area had been scheduled for demolition, along with rebuilding. The area had no people going about on the streets, and the area was serenely dark at this time. He finally got to where he was looking for, an alleyway between the two abandoned buildings. There was a decrepit door right along the side of one of them, with a mild stream of light emanating from its edges. I followed behind him, and he knocked three times.
Then, to my surprise, Ronald came to answer it. He was slightly bent over, and appeared exhausted.
,ÄúCome in! Come in! I didn,Äôt suspect to see you here!,Äù
Ronald seemed ecstatic, and offered both of us some tea, though we declined politely.
,ÄúBut I thought you were working for the-,Äù, I said, as he interrupted:
,ÄúHah! It,Äôs typical of them to pull that - they,Äôre disgusted at their own fucking incompetence, so its nice for them to pretend sometimes. Idiots.,Äù
,ÄúYou two are the only ones left - the others were retrained for their little ,Äòjobs,Äô appropriately.,Äù
,ÄúI,Äôm sorry-,Äù I said, but he interrupted:
,ÄúNever liked those fuckers, anyway. That fucking TEACHER, of all people, cracked on all of us; handed out all our names to the state. I,Äôm sorry if I seem exhausted, boy, but I,Äôve been having a workout dodging any agents that may find me. I,Äôm on their top priority at the moment - they wish to deport me.,Äù
,ÄúDeport you?,Äù
,ÄúYes - put me in one of those damned labor camps of theirs again. Last time, it was minimum security - would have been refreshing, if not for the damn manual labor. I got to sneak out, sometimes, saw what the other people,Äôs bars were like,Ķ Their whiskey was a LOT better than this damned synthahol crap I,Äôve been making,Ķ But I digress,Ķ,Äù
As I inspected closer, his breath did smell oddly flagrant, and he seemed a bit more awkward - I knew of alcohol,Äôs effects from textbooks - but I had never seen anybody engage heavily in partaking it.
,ÄúWe need to live - I mean leave, tomorrow, boy. Right before work; they will search for you if you don,Äôt show up. We need to make haste in the morning. For now, I must rest,Ķ,Äù
He stumbled off to this archaic chamber - appeared to be made of fabric, and fell asleep. Mark bowed and took his leave as well, to go to sleep. I took a third chamber, and rested for what would come tomorrow.
PART EIGHT in like, 2 days, I guess.
I guess I'll do it tomorrow.
But please, any comments are welcome...
I read it earlier today. It reads well, but I'm still waiting for the shit to kick off.
~~~Looking forward to the next part.
**SPOILER ALERT**
SHIT AINT NEVAH GONNA KICK OFF. THEY GONNA RUN AROUND IN A BIG DOME FOR THE LATTER HALF OF TEH STORY. SRSLY. OVER 9000 DISTRICTS.
No kicking off of the shit? Meh. I'll be O.K. as long as it is pointlessly long, and has no "grand idea" that I can easily pick out, 'cause at least I can pretend I'm reading some real high quality literature right?
Seriously though, looking forward to the next part.
I was kidding, should kick off in a bit I suppose, I'll get to it ASAP
PART EIGHT
*PING*
I awoke that morning to what I had thought was the study-going alarm, but realized it was Ronald,Äôs alarm, set up to beat the morning rush. Mark awoke, along with Ronald. In a drowsy fashion we ate breakfast nutrition that we had found in his decrepit cupboards. I had an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach, however, and ate rather conservatively. Everybody was silent throughout the meal, and I was the last to finish.
,ÄúWe need to hurry from here on out; when the bell tolls, they will look for us. We will probably have great difficulty obfuscating our presence anyway, considering where we are going.,Äù Ronald said.
,ÄúAnd where is that?,Äù
,ÄúDistrict One, Joseph.,Äù
Those three words alone startled me; we were going to the hierarchy. The one district that I, nor anybody I knew, could even access.
,ÄúWhy?,Äù, I asked, ,ÄúWhy District One? Are they allowed to go outside?,Äù
,ÄúNo. Of course not. But everything goes through District One before anywhere else. The hierarchy checks anything and everything importing and exporting. They know of the outside, but they don,Äôt give a shit about it. Anyway, we leave now. Pack what you need.,Äù
All three of us packed our essentials (I saw Ronald pick up quite a few obscure objects as well, looked like some form of needles), and departed for District One.
We both followed Ronald; he knew the complex like the back of his hand. We avoided the main streets as much as possible, and weaved in and out of cramped alleyways. The whole complex was eerily serene - I had never been out in its inactive state. Ronald stopped at the end of a certain alleyway, and told us to stop as well. He pointed to the ,Äúwall,Äù that separated District One from all other districts. The obliquely black wall that kept any eyes from peering in, tall enough for even people standing on the highest rooftops to not see over it.
,ÄúListen,,Äù said Ronald in a whisper, ,Äúwe have to be silent here. There are the mics and cameras, which Mark can easily obsolete, but there are guards here 24/7. The only *public* police in the whole complex, actually. They are very prone to hear you, so I,Äôll only say this once: keep quiet.
But as soon as these words departed from his lips, someone came across us, happening by the entrance of the alleyway. It was a guard, and as he stood peering from behind Ronald,Äôs shoulder, Mark and I gawked at him, hearts racing.
Ronald turned around slowly, seeing how we were acting, and staggered back when he saw the soldier, directly in front of his face.
,ÄúWhat, exactly, are you doing out at this hour?!,Äù, the soldier yelled.
Mark stepped in seeing how we were both dumbfounded, and said ,ÄúThere must have been a malfunction with the timer in District Three. We usually come to this area, but seeing how deserted it is, we realize we must have woken early.,Äù
,ÄúI Haven,Äôt been informed of any--,Äù The soldier was interrupted. He clutched his chest, and then with a loud ,Äúthud,Äù, fell to the ground, instantly.
,ÄúRonald--,Äù I said
,ÄúYes, Joseph. I haven,Äôt divulged everything I know about the medical field, you know.,Äù
,ÄúIs he--,Äù
,ÄúHis knowledge didn,Äôt pose a threat.,Äù Ronald then bent over and plucked the small needle out of the man,Äôs chest, and concealed it. He checked his wrist, and saw the other ammunition was still in a satchel under his sleeve.
I was relieved that he wasn,Äôt dead, but Ronald blurted out frustratingly, ,ÄúThis ruins our plans. The other guards will be aware of his absence, and will signal an alarm. We,Äôre going in noisy. Hurry.,Äù He then ran to the entrance, and we followed. By the time Mark and I got there, an unconscious guard was already by the entrance.
,ÄúGet this thing open!,Äù Ronald yelled.
Mark then hurried to the entrance and inserted a device into the computer terminal, and after much hacking, he opened the gateway. We headed on in, to District One.
As soon as I got in, I observed the look of the place. I was disappointed; the rumors I had heard of its grandeur and impressiveness was greatly exaggerated. The buildings, or at least the work buildings, were taller and a bit more impressive, but the overall look of the place was same old, same old. Same lighting (in fact a bit dimmer, because of the wall), same streets, same clean and kempt look.
Ronald knocked out a few more of the guards at the other side; it was tricky getting two of them at once. We ran through a few alleyways; this district seemed slightly smaller than the others, because it didn,Äôt take long to get to the end of the glass canvas that separates the complex from the outside. I wondered ,ÄúIs this what he wanted to lead me to?,Äù, and then I realized that I had never gone to the edge of any district, to look outside. I went up to the edge and peered out inquisitively.
I was taken aback at what I was looking at; the canvas of the sky, the canvas of the ground, and the canvas of glass between me and the other two. All three were blank, most surprising to me being the ground; a great stretch of glassy brown sand, and a black road splitting it in two. Seemed more desolate than I had imagined, and a tear seeped out of my eye.
,ÄúI know what you,Äôre thinking.,Äù said Ronald, ,ÄúBut that road leads to more than dirt.,Äù
Mark also seemed intrigued, but took Ronald,Äôs words as truth, along with me.
Ronald then directed our attention to our right, and then we saw the exit to the outside; a gate to the outside. Many trucks were around it, and there were people (not scientists) going to and fro, bringing boxes of supplies from *their* trucks to other trucks. It seemed there was a special driver for all designated purposes.
*BLEEP*
The work-going bell tolled. I panicked temporarily, but Ronald ran towards the trucks as soon as he saw no one was looking. We followed and he helped us up into the cargo hold, but hesitated from going in with us.
,ÄúI,Äôm staying here.,Äù
,ÄúWhat?,Äù I asked, ,ÄúI thought you wanted to depart from this place!,Äù
,ÄúOn second thought,Ķ no. I thought this might be the final time I would get people outside, but no,Ķ my purpose is here, at the complex. They will catch me after this, yes, but I will stand up to their tactics, and they might eventually kill me,Ķ they are not torturers. I might be able to spread Discord here some more, and that is my purpose.,Äù
,ÄúBut--,Äù
,ÄúHush, I need to leave. Unless you are having second thoughts, don,Äôt say anything.
I kept silent.
,ÄúThey have already began to look for you locally, that,Äôs for sure - but they will soon alert the outside of fugitives. This truck will stop at the nearest town. Hide behind some boxes in here, and get out when it stops there. But do not stay there long. Go as far from there as possible, and do what you think necessary. You work for yourself now. I,Äôm sorry - I can,Äôt go on. I must leave.,Äù
He then ran, and that was the last I saw of Ronald Burns.
Mark and I hid behind some boxes, and I heard some shoving around, but then the truck started up. I felt it moving, and we went down a steep downward slope out of the complex.
As we got further down the road, it got harder, and knowing nobody was looking, I came out from behind the boxes, as did mark.
And there we saw the great glass dome, getting smaller and smaller, with the label ,ÄúBourns Studies, Incorporated,Äù plastered on it.
Hey, thats the kind of shit kicking off I want to see!
Just wondering if the deadline pressure is getting to you a bit. I only ask 'cause there are a couple out of place words in there. No criticism.
Liberally at the end of sentence four, paragraph one doesn't really fit, it suggests the guy was shoving food in his mouth like there was no tomorrow.
A couple others, but I'm not liking the idea of looking like a grammer nazi.
:mittens:
I don't mind, of course; I'll fix 'em up, but thanks. :D
EDIT
Oh - I got two words mixed up. I was thinking "liberally" meant its opposite, for some reason.
:lulz:
Liberal for Conservative
It's funny that the only time the words have any meaning is when you take them out of a political context...
Quote from: Payne on April 21, 2007, 04:03:28 AM
:lulz:
Liberal for Conservative
It's funny that the only time the words have any meaning is when you take them out of a political context...
That is if you consider the Democratic party "Liberal". :lulz:
Otherwise it has meaning. (The founding fathers were liberal, etc etc)
Yeah, I, as always, was putting it in context of U.K. politics. In any case the L was capitalised in my lil' non-funnay.
Though even liberalism (as opposed to Liberalism) seems to be losing ground to apathy these days.
~~~And if I keep digging this hole for myself, I'll end up in Austrailia...
PART NINE - eh - Sunday, probably. I'm going to go over the whole thing and edit, perhaps eliminate some unnecesarry words, awkward crap, etc etc, I think I may have made a logical error somewhere...
Might be Saturday.
Quote from: Idem on April 21, 2007, 06:36:27 AM
PART NINE - eh - Sunday, probably. I'm going to go over the whole thing and edit, perhaps eliminate some unnecesarry words, awkward crap, etc etc, I think I may have made a logical error somewhere...
Might be Saturday.
Must be a lot of editing goin' down. It's coming on tuesday now...
I know, today sometime. Sorry. Should have said something.
i have read, and liked it so far. Idem, do you have any idea already where the story will end up? have you planned some wrap-up for the story-arc or is this one of those "i'll think up something as i write along" kind of projects?
Quote from: triple zero on April 24, 2007, 12:46:39 PM"i'll think up something as i write along" kind of projects?
More or less that.
There may be key points that go along in the story that I have had in my mind since the beginning, but even some of those have changed drastically.
PART NINE
As we rode in the back of the cargo hold, we gazed out onto the endless road and sands, as the sun lit harshly on it. It was refreshing, and as a welcome relief from the past few weeks, I felt at peace. As I observed the canvas of sand, I recognized that we passed by three other complexes, diamond-like domes glimmering in the sand. I could not make out their names, and they were few and far between; I could only guess at how many there were total.
After a while, the first signs of other civilization became visible. First, there was a small shack, hardly large enough to fit a car in. Then, a few more rusty iron shacks, and a few other, larger, buildings. We went back behind the boxes after seeing the first person, for fear of being seen or caught.
Finally, the truck halted. Frightened because of our disorientation, we did could not decide whether to run or stay put. Our minds were made up, however, when the driver removed some boxes that were near us - and after he left, we silently scurried out of the truck, and went around to the other side of it.
We shielded out eyes due to the brightness of the garage - it was massive, plain white covering it,Äôs ceiling, floor, and walls, and several fluorescent whites lit the place with their incredible brightness. The exit was very well illuminated as well, and we dashed towards the stairs leading out so as to escape the light. The streets were quite bright as well,Ķ but there were many people out - something we had not anticipated. We were startled at first, thinking escape was impossible, just looking around and waiting to be pointed out, an individual saying ,ÄúThere they are!,Äù, but observed that no one had so much as glanced at us. Mark pointed this out, and said to be scared would just be to arise suspicion - so we unhurriedly walked down the street.
Then, it occurred to us - for I am assuming Mark thought the same - that we had no plan at all. We had no idea what to do in this world, and knew that the state was probably out to get us - Bourns, or whatever name it was going by.
As we were walking, I took time to observe the place - it was similar to the complex, in that the entire floor was asphalt, and there were many buildings. However, the asphalt was better-lit and obviously better-kept. In fact, the entire place was cleaner-looking, and the buildings had windows, which were also lit. The place seemed so alive; the air was cleaner, and more chatter was heard. The annoying ,Äúthuds,Äù from the demolition district were no longer to be heard, nor the awkward smell of the health district.
Soon, our hopes were lifted as we saw a refreshment area, crowded with well-dressed people and covered with neon signs. We could not help but give in to temptation - the place was crowded, and we needed to sit, eat, and drink.
I was euphoric because of the subtle differences of the bar, in contrast to the one in the complex,Ķ Looking back on it, it seems foolish to have been happy because of the cleanliness and variety of people. And I noticed those Ronald spoke of - females - were there as well,Ķ I was curious.
But Mark made it clear there was no time for standing and gawking around, and we sat at the bar. We ordered a few drinks, and got down to business.
Handing me an electronic device, he said ,ÄúNotices have not gone out yet; but they will soon. People here will be looking out for us, after they find out that we are not at the complex. We must depart this area. When we get to a place further away - much further away - we need to find ways to change our appearance. This device will only last you so long. ,Äú
I nodded, understanding what he said perfectly, and agreed to everything.
,ÄúWe must part ways, however. If we have learned anything from the complex, it is that if one of us breaks, we will all fall. If we live in the same city, or even know where each other is at, there is a possibility that it could ruin everything.,Äù
,ÄúBut what are we to do in this world?,Äù I asked.
,Äú,ĶThat is the one thing I can,Äôt tell you. We both are on our own from here. I don,Äôt even know what I am going to do - I have been thinking of so many other things. I have no idea about what this world is, and how it differs, except that it looks prettier. I don,Äôt know. I need more time to learn and think. But thing is, we can,Äòt do that together.,Äù
We sat there for a long time, and I tried to forget anything unnerving, and just relax, but I couldn,Äôt. It got worse when he parted with a simple ,ÄúGoodbye.,Äù and left.
Yes. I like the element of "you're free. Its up to you to stay that way. BYE!"
I felt a little like that when I understood the B.I.P.
I've been trying to work in elements of the BIP into this thing, actually.
I forgot to add the barstool into any of the bar sequences - oh well, I'll do that later. :lulz:
You should get a hawt woman to do it. Fuck up his idea of sex for the rest of his life...
A few things:
1. First sentence is fucked up syntax. Consider revising.
2. With the small rusted shacks, are you implying that outside the main cities, there are shanty towns/slums? if so, more description of that.
3. I find it unusual that the people Outside would dress in the same manner as those Inside, if for no other reason than easy recognition of escapees.
4. I also find it unusual that the monetary systems, or financial transactions, would also be the same. I was expecting them to order some food, and then be expected to pay for it.
5. Good job of adding the "stick apart" idea.
Quote from: LMNO on April 25, 2007, 01:35:49 PM
A few things:
1. First sentence is fucked up syntax. Consider revising.
2. With the small rusted shacks, are you implying that outside the main cities, there are shanty towns/slums? if so, more description of that.
3. I find it unusual that the people Outside would dress in the same manner as those Inside, if for no other reason than easy recognition of escapees.
4. I also find it unusual that the monetary systems, or financial transactions, would also be the same. I was expecting them to order some food, and then be expected to pay for it.
5. Good job of adding the "stick apart" idea.
1. Okay.
2. Alright. They were basically just toolsheds, but I'll imply that in an edit.
3. Revealed later
4. Credits are a rather universal transaction in this thing, I'll imply that they paid with credits, but there will be more on that later as well.
If they're paying with credits, that is a far too fucking easy way for them to be tracked down. By which I mean I will be seriously disappointed if nobody does track them down, or at the very least the punchline is that they were really not all that important of people to begin with.
"Credits" The name currently being given to any currency being given. Not necesarilly electronic. A total system of electronic credits is implausible at the given time. (No electronic system is foolproof)
Just giving a generic name to the currency used at the moment.
Also, remember, as far as we are concerned, the state (or Bourns) is too busy searching the complex for them now; it has not been a long while since they left, so the complex doesn't jump to conclusions. That'ws why they have to leave locally ASAP, so theyve left by the time the public knows what to look for.
PART TEN
After his leave, I tried to stay calm, relax, eat, and drink. I knew I had a bit of time to enjoy myself, no matter how short it was (the state was probably still looking for me in the complex) and used it. A woman next to me coughed loudly several times, then sneezed, and after a while I turned to look at her. Another woman grabbed her shoulder.
,ÄúA cold?,Äù
,ÄúI,Äôm afraid so. I,Äôve been like this since morning and-,Äù
,ÄúAh! But have you not hear? Bourns can cure that now, you know - and with a simple pill, at that! A cure for the common cold in but a pill!,Äù
I then turned back, facing my food (which, may I add, tasted much better than at the complex), and began giggling. I felt like cackling like a madman, but had to contain it.
,ÄúThe common cold - Ha!,Äù I muttered, as I paid my bill and left the bar, promptly. I stumbled outside, without any plans of what to do; the only thought on my mind was the maniacal laughter. It engrossed me; I seldom laughed in my entire life, and never as hard as this!
,ÄúI did it for the state... Bourns, after all! I sacrificed my knowledge so these rich bastards could be spared a mild inconvenience,Ķ Ha!,Äù
And then, I realized, I was laughing at myself. I was laughing at my own ignorance, my own stupidity. It was my fault - not Bourns,Äô - that I let anything out. I gave them the cure to this incredibly minor thing - by my own free will. The people? Hell! These weren,Äôt people, they were something beyond people. Something of human form, but not of human will - I hated them so much that I felt like killing them. Then, however, I realized something else: They were laughing at me. They were laughing their asses off at me, and I had been oblivious all along. I knew exactly what Ronald,Äôs ramblings were about, now. I had always felt it awkward, listening to the drunkard and swallowing every word - but now I knew exactly how he felt - about the outside, about the world, about everything.
I felt unclean. I needed to leave the place, and go far away. I hurriedly found a map, at some convenience store across from the refreshment area, and left. Surprisingly to me, there were very few cities on it, and it accordingly was of the entire territory, but I decided to go east, which the end of which was further away, and where varied cities dotted a great expanse of water.
I was dumbfounded as to how to travel, though. I did know that the transport trucks I oh-so-heavily relied upon were plentiful, and they went in all directions. I saw them coming and going very frequently, and the pedestrian car was a rare sight. So, I took a gamble, and snuck into a truck,Äôs hold, that I knew was heading in the westerly direction.
I take it you've got your story planned out now? I'm still struggling to get my story sorted, I'm considering just posting anyway, and fuck the inconsistancies, but I'm too much of a self-critic for that.
This was quite a small piece, but that's cool. A few typos again, but you're pretty handy with the edit button anyways...
Keep 'em coming.
Quote from: Payne on April 26, 2007, 01:35:14 AM
I take it you've got your story planned out now?
Pretty sure I do.
And I guess that one part's purpose was specifically to get to a specific point - more tomorrow.
As for your work...
I couldnt tell ya, I guess I'd just go along with it. I'm definitely no literary critic. :lulz:
Oh, I just saw that youre posting it in bring and brag, I'll go look
Anyway, so far, what do you guys think of it? i.e., readable, interesting, etc... it's style?
Just wondering.'
Also, I've made some edits into a word document, but have yet to integrate them into the forum version.
I'm not feeling the reason for the narrator's revelation. I know that he's supposed to be going through an arc of loyalty to the state to free thinker, but I'm just not feeling it, y'know?
Like, when he wants to cackle at the woman with the cold. I don't get the reason why.
He was the one who invented the cure for the cold. Tried keeping it, but eventually handed it over(When the hierarchy told him that 'many people suffer from this on the outside, etc etc).
So, really, by divulging that info, all he did was spare the rich a very minor inconvenience. While he thought he was relieving the major suffering of many. He was laughing at himself for doing that, basically.
But I suppose I should be going back... add more detail, maybe rewrite some parts... make the reader, perhaps, feel more convinced.
Perhaps doing it in the first person was a flaw... many literary experts admonish against doing that, and it is more awkward, because the reader is putting him/herself in he writer's shoes.
Oh, I see. The "virus" that the narrator was working on was a common cold. Gotcha. Needs more dissillusionment.
BTW, sorry if all this sounds harsh. I like the story, its tone, and its feel. Don't give up on it.
I'm sorry - I've been incredibly busy recently.
Next part tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.
Hey idem, thats all good. It's a lot of work huh? My own writing-fu has broke over the weekend.
Truth be told, I'm having a bit of writer's block... I'll have to push out something, though
Though this is admittedly short, I planned on saving the next part for tomorrow.
For about an hour I sat at the back of the hold, gawking out as the city faded away into the distance. It took a while, bout soon, the plain desert canvas started changing. Mountains started popping up, and soon I found we were passing through an entire range of them. As they started surrounding me, I got a bit anxious; while I thought it unlikely they put cameras in the area, my gut told me to go back further, to hide behind some boxes. It took another hour for the truck to stop, and unknowing of where I was, I stalled. I heard the driver come out again, and he started moving the boxes. I promptly got out, and, seeing no people around, left the standard solid-white parking garage.
When I got out, I saw a reflection of the last city I was at. A brightly lit place, with clean streets, looming buildings, and well-dressed pedestrians walking about. None of them noticed me, and I passed by them confidently. I didn,Äôt know what to do or where to go, at first, and then I remembered what Mark had told me. I needed to change my appearance. Luckily, I was in what was apparently the commercial district of the place. A shop stood out to me as specializing in this, with faux pretty heads looking out the window and the writing ,ÄúBeauty Salon,Äù on it. Nobody was even in the place; the entire shop was automatic. They had an inventory of scissors, hair dyes, dryers, and other beauty products, but no one was there to apply or sell them. I just had to pick up the products and put the necessary credits into a vendor. But, seeing as how the ,Äúdevice,Äù I had with me disrupted it, I left without paying, with some dye, cosmetic powder, a fake moustache, a comb, and a mirror. On the way out, I saw some contacts as well, which changed the appearance of the eyes.
I slipped into an alleyway to read the instructions for use; the dye was automatic, a spray changing the color of my hair completely in two minutes. Looking in the mirror, I noticed a drastic change; my short, brown hair now had an incredibly tacky and bright red look. It changed my appearance drastically, and distracted from my face, so I decided it was for the best. The fake moustache did not go along with the color, so I discarded it. The contacts, however, were successful in changing my eyes from a deep hazel color to a soft blue. I then applied this cosmetic powder, which was supposed to smooth the skin and give it a slightly redder tone. After applying all this, I looked in the mirror, and was amazed how my appearance had changed. I went out into the alleyway more confident than before, and, knowing my clothes might give me away, went to the nearest apparel store. Everything there was free for the taking as well; I was getting worried how easy this was, there being absolutely no security (Save for the cameras, which I had disabled) but nonetheless slipped into another alleyway, to change into my new clothing. I took my standard white lab coat off, and put this stylish black suit on, which I had taken a liking to. With the small mirror, I tried to gauge my appearance, and was quite satisfied.
I put my lab uniform in the trash, and went out into the public, feeling like a completely new person.
A thought:
Wouldn't Security notice a pattern of movement with the disabled cameras?
Quote from: LMNO on May 02, 2007, 01:31:19 PM
A thought:
Wouldn't Security notice a pattern of movement with the disabled cameras?
Sure would.
Eh.... some other time.
Fucking football practice + having to study for final exams
Keep it flowin' when you can. :)
When are you adding more to this Idem? Huh?
Once I'm done with finals and move to Florida.
I'll start back on it by Monday, in other words.
EDIT
Oh, and btw, go die. :lulz: