I had this thought today, as I read through TED.com's 'youth' section. It's probably a dead horse idea, by now: I'm sure everyone knows that the average Joe isn't looked up to, admired, or given more than a passing thought. I'm sure that there's an infinite number of reasons as to why this rant of mine is illogical. There's probably many exceptions to my statement. They've all been noted, and I'm still writing. Also, this is heavily general, so don't feel too proud if you find a flaw. I'm sure there's many.
So, there I was, reading TED's website--the section about extraordinary kids doing things like researching cancer and programming amazing things. All these incredible successes: there was a kid who built a nuclear reactor in his garage. Anyway, I'm seeing all these things, and then I'm suddenly hit with a realization.
Nobody (Bear in mind, that in this case, 'Nobody' is just a blanket term I'm using because I'm in a bit of a rush and finding the proper word would take too much time) celebrates the common folk. More than that, nobody celebrates the just 'skilled'. Nobody respects the people with multiple areas of knowledge: not unless they're experts in all of them.
Nobody notices the kid who is good at math, writes, acts, and draws, not unless that kid is Einstein, Tolkien, Harrison Ford, or Picasso. Unless he's extraordinary in one or all of his areas of skill, he's not given any acknowledgement. He might write a great essay, something really solid and intelligent. He should be congratulated for that. Instead, he was most likely outshined by the person who specializes in writing, by the person whose entire life centers on words.
Maybe he puts on a top-tier performance. Good for him, but he's easily overtaken by the Actor-kid who was raised his entire life to make it to the top of the bracket. How does a jack-of-all-trades compete with the ace-of-one? He's considered common, with another person being better on every front.
I recognize that the world works in that way: there's always someone better. But to a Jack, someone who's skilled at multiple things, how must it feel to be able to do so many things, but never recognized for any of them? At least in the case of the Actor, he'd get some solace in the knowledge that he's still good enough.
Not so for the Jack. If the Actor made it on Broadway, even as a minor role, he still achieved that benchmark. The Jack never made it that far, even if he was good at acting.
I consider myself a Jack. Look, this is where writer bias comes in, I know. I've done a lot of things, and I'm sure I'll learn many more in my life. That being said, I've never felt good enough, or even good. I've seen the specialist in every category overtake the Jack. People have told me before that "they can't do everything you can". It's true, the specialist can't do certain things that the Jack can. He has that advantage over the one.
But there's a specialist for every category. For every 'A+' that the Jack gets in a science class, there's the kid with the nuclear garage-reactor. For every piece of art that the Jack creates, there's the specialist who won the state art contest. No matter what the Jack does, a specialist overtakes him.
My chief fear in this is what will come in the future. What happens when the Jack applies for a job, being perfectly qualified, and a Specialist gets the job, being unnaturally qualified? If the job is as a researcher, and there's one spot available, how does the Jack compete with the Harvard Graduate? By saying they can also draw and play the piano? Those aren't traits that would get them hired as a researcher.
This is a problem that spreads to all walks of life. How does the Jack eke his living when the Specialists are always making him second best?
All of this seems very angry and cynical, and it probably looks like there's no point to it. I guess my point is...
The common folk is every bit as deserving of respect as the Specialists. I'm not saying that all average people are Jacks, or that they have skills that are simply overshadowed. A lot of this rant was just an extended analogy to prove the main point.
All I'm asking is that the world doesn't shove aside those who are good, just because there's someone better.
The outlet for the voices in my head.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Friday, October 25, 2013
The End
Folks used to talk about the end of the world. People had all their
theories: nukes, aliens, undead. They had their preparations, too-
bunkers and filtration systems, guns. They were ready for anything. The
rest of us, well, we didn’t pay them too much attention. We thought we
were so clever. The world wasn’t gonna end any time soon, we said. The
nutcases were ruining their lives, and wasting their fortunes. And
then…and then it all went to hell.
Couldn’t prepare for the end too well. Not really. People thought they knew what they were doing, up until it counted. And bam: dead before their careful plans could work. One second, fine, and the next, your family dead, home destroyed, and your life shattered. All in all, it’s too bad folks didn’t just get ready for a good old natural apocalypse. All this talk ‘bout zombies, aliens, and plagues, nobody really got ready for the earthquakes, the lightning. The hurricanes. The ones still living are the ones who did, and there ain’t many left. Shotgun’s got no use against a storm. Logic? What logic? Logic said we’d be fine- that we’d never have to worry. Logic don’t stop fire, and it sure don’t stop a flood.
I only made it this far with the help of a few guys I never even asked the names of. No time for that. Good fellas- sharp eyes and sharp shots. Guns might not’ve helped while we suffered, but they’re useful as anythin’ in the aftermath. Things seemed to have settled down, little bit. After all, Mother Nature ain’t trying to kill herself. Just us. She might’ve sent us hell, but she’s been nice enough to the leftovers. Strange enough, only humanfolk got hit with the end, mostly. We’ve found no animal corpses. Least, not yet.
Things got tough when it all fell apart. Alliances? Hmph. Only reason my group was still going was their efficiency. They’re stronger together. Me? Can’t shoot to save my life, but I’m a damn good storyteller, and I’m good at cooking with next to nothing. Grew up without a lot of food, see- but that’s for another time. Weapons are scarce, too. Lucky me- I found a group with a gun store. Don’t take this the wrong way: didn’t see many humans around anymore, but the end must have kick-started animal’s instincts. Wolves and bears came at us too often, and even some dogs have been giving us trouble. Funny thing- the cats ain’t changed at all. Too lazy to begin with.
The rest of this story- hmm… Well, things had started to settle down, as I said before, after enough time. Group was talking about hitting a gardening store- maybe starting up a farm. Solid plan, I suppose, but things went south real quick after. Head boy of our little gang got an infection in his trigger finger. We amputated. Guy wasn’t too pleased, but we managed, until we met another group.
There wasn’t any words exchanged- ambushed ‘em right off the bat, with a bat. Well, I was none too pleased with that. They didn’t want to hear it. Dropped me in the woods. Went around a bend, and gone. I found a stump nearby- a last remnant of man’s dominance. Sat down on the old wood. I wasn’t gonna last long on my own.
“Are you all right? Heard a voice, then. Woman’s voice. A fine looking one, too. See, the movies preach that only the pretty girls were in apocalypses. Countering that, we all though only the average ones really survived. As with everything, there’s a mix. I just got the long end of the stick.
Didn’t say too much, I recall- wasn’t much to say. She sat down on the stump, next to me, and handed me a pack of crackers. “Here,” she smiled at me. “Not everyone in this god-forsaken world is going to leave people behind.” Apparently, she’d seen the other group drop me off. “I’ve been travelling by myself for a while, now. The only reason people wanted to be with me was to, well…” She motioned to herself in general, blushing a bit. I got her meaning.
I raised my head. “Thanks.” I’m not the talkative type, anyway.
“What’s your name?” She seemed interested in me: more than I was comfortable with.
I shrugged. Not important, anyway. I tore open the crackers. Been a while since I had much.
“Oh, uh...” She went quiet, too. I reckon there wasn’t much to say in response. Until she perked up, and talk a bit more. “Well, then, John Doe it is.” John. Close enough. “Listen, John. There’s a place a few miles north of here. I’m headed there myself- I know the owners. If you like, uh…you’re welcome to come along…uh…” Guess she wasn’t too confident with her speaking.
I nodded. “Sounds good.” Standing up hurt, right there. I’d been on the move so fast, for so long, I’d forgotten how bad I really was. Still, I made it, and after a few steps, turned and looked at the woman. She smiled again.
“I’m Erica.” We were on a first name basis already. She popped up, and set off. I followed, and the two of us walked on, to a so-called safe haven. I had nothing left in my life, not really. Say it was a trap- I’d be dead soon enough, either way.
True to her word, Erica led us straight, and a cozy little farm popped into view, complete with cows, chickens, and huge fields of grain. Like a whole chunk of the Earth, saved from the end. Self-sufficient, with water collectors, solar panels, and plenty of surplus food. Erica and I fit right in. the place became my home, in more ways than one. Linda and Bob- the owners- hired us without a second thought. Been here for a month and a half, and nothin’s gone wrong at all. The place is like a little paradise, right in the middle of hell on Earth.
Erica’s been nice- nicer than a friend should be. I guess she’s been alone for a while. Anyway, we’ll have to see- we’re the same age, sorta, but somehow, I feel the cold of old age in my bones. Maybe it came with the end, since I’m feeling better now, but I can’t tell. Her part in my life- that’s another story, for another time.
The End.
It’s gone. It ain’t coming back. And now?
We’re picking up the shards- one piece at a time.
***
Written on December 21st, 2012. The world hasn't ended yet. Hooray...it means I had time to write this.
Couldn’t prepare for the end too well. Not really. People thought they knew what they were doing, up until it counted. And bam: dead before their careful plans could work. One second, fine, and the next, your family dead, home destroyed, and your life shattered. All in all, it’s too bad folks didn’t just get ready for a good old natural apocalypse. All this talk ‘bout zombies, aliens, and plagues, nobody really got ready for the earthquakes, the lightning. The hurricanes. The ones still living are the ones who did, and there ain’t many left. Shotgun’s got no use against a storm. Logic? What logic? Logic said we’d be fine- that we’d never have to worry. Logic don’t stop fire, and it sure don’t stop a flood.
I only made it this far with the help of a few guys I never even asked the names of. No time for that. Good fellas- sharp eyes and sharp shots. Guns might not’ve helped while we suffered, but they’re useful as anythin’ in the aftermath. Things seemed to have settled down, little bit. After all, Mother Nature ain’t trying to kill herself. Just us. She might’ve sent us hell, but she’s been nice enough to the leftovers. Strange enough, only humanfolk got hit with the end, mostly. We’ve found no animal corpses. Least, not yet.
Things got tough when it all fell apart. Alliances? Hmph. Only reason my group was still going was their efficiency. They’re stronger together. Me? Can’t shoot to save my life, but I’m a damn good storyteller, and I’m good at cooking with next to nothing. Grew up without a lot of food, see- but that’s for another time. Weapons are scarce, too. Lucky me- I found a group with a gun store. Don’t take this the wrong way: didn’t see many humans around anymore, but the end must have kick-started animal’s instincts. Wolves and bears came at us too often, and even some dogs have been giving us trouble. Funny thing- the cats ain’t changed at all. Too lazy to begin with.
The rest of this story- hmm… Well, things had started to settle down, as I said before, after enough time. Group was talking about hitting a gardening store- maybe starting up a farm. Solid plan, I suppose, but things went south real quick after. Head boy of our little gang got an infection in his trigger finger. We amputated. Guy wasn’t too pleased, but we managed, until we met another group.
There wasn’t any words exchanged- ambushed ‘em right off the bat, with a bat. Well, I was none too pleased with that. They didn’t want to hear it. Dropped me in the woods. Went around a bend, and gone. I found a stump nearby- a last remnant of man’s dominance. Sat down on the old wood. I wasn’t gonna last long on my own.
“Are you all right? Heard a voice, then. Woman’s voice. A fine looking one, too. See, the movies preach that only the pretty girls were in apocalypses. Countering that, we all though only the average ones really survived. As with everything, there’s a mix. I just got the long end of the stick.
Didn’t say too much, I recall- wasn’t much to say. She sat down on the stump, next to me, and handed me a pack of crackers. “Here,” she smiled at me. “Not everyone in this god-forsaken world is going to leave people behind.” Apparently, she’d seen the other group drop me off. “I’ve been travelling by myself for a while, now. The only reason people wanted to be with me was to, well…” She motioned to herself in general, blushing a bit. I got her meaning.
I raised my head. “Thanks.” I’m not the talkative type, anyway.
“What’s your name?” She seemed interested in me: more than I was comfortable with.
I shrugged. Not important, anyway. I tore open the crackers. Been a while since I had much.
“Oh, uh...” She went quiet, too. I reckon there wasn’t much to say in response. Until she perked up, and talk a bit more. “Well, then, John Doe it is.” John. Close enough. “Listen, John. There’s a place a few miles north of here. I’m headed there myself- I know the owners. If you like, uh…you’re welcome to come along…uh…” Guess she wasn’t too confident with her speaking.
I nodded. “Sounds good.” Standing up hurt, right there. I’d been on the move so fast, for so long, I’d forgotten how bad I really was. Still, I made it, and after a few steps, turned and looked at the woman. She smiled again.
“I’m Erica.” We were on a first name basis already. She popped up, and set off. I followed, and the two of us walked on, to a so-called safe haven. I had nothing left in my life, not really. Say it was a trap- I’d be dead soon enough, either way.
True to her word, Erica led us straight, and a cozy little farm popped into view, complete with cows, chickens, and huge fields of grain. Like a whole chunk of the Earth, saved from the end. Self-sufficient, with water collectors, solar panels, and plenty of surplus food. Erica and I fit right in. the place became my home, in more ways than one. Linda and Bob- the owners- hired us without a second thought. Been here for a month and a half, and nothin’s gone wrong at all. The place is like a little paradise, right in the middle of hell on Earth.
Erica’s been nice- nicer than a friend should be. I guess she’s been alone for a while. Anyway, we’ll have to see- we’re the same age, sorta, but somehow, I feel the cold of old age in my bones. Maybe it came with the end, since I’m feeling better now, but I can’t tell. Her part in my life- that’s another story, for another time.
The End.
It’s gone. It ain’t coming back. And now?
We’re picking up the shards- one piece at a time.
***
Written on December 21st, 2012. The world hasn't ended yet. Hooray...it means I had time to write this.
The Legend of the Sun
Note: Much mood music will be used.
-
*
There
was naught to do but engage the enemy, head on. The scouts were
captured, the saboteurs destroyed. The archers had been plucked from
their perches- places they had been assured were safe. Xulan had no
other tricks up his sleeve. His options dwindled, rapidly.The Demigod Knight of Sol was outmaneuvered, outflanked, and out of his league. The dark, writhing mass before his men was uncountable; it blackened the sky beyond. The chittering and whooping and jeering was debilitating. It unsettled Xulan’s warriors, driving some to near tears. Morale slipped in the dusk, down the slope of despair.
A lieutenant approached the great Xulan. Young, both in mind and body, the man knelt before the immortal, briefly, before standing once more, and clapping an arm over his chest. “My Lord.” He spoke softly, but intently- the mark of a potential general. Xulan paused in his musings, and glanced at the man.
The warming light which flowed from the half-god Knight had become considerably less welcoming, a reflection of the sorry state of the Immortal’s position. He motioned for the lieutenant to speak.
When Xulan deigned not to speak, the young man swallowed his apprehension, and forged ahead. “My Lord, are you sure we can hold this line? The other men…I’ve heard talk…” He trailed off. Xulan seemed uninterested. The lieutenant’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “My Lord, it would reassure us all greatly if you would be speak to the troops.”
Xulan looked down at the man, blinking deliberately and carefully. The immortal stood, slowly walking out of the covered area. He fastened his hands behind his back. The demigod glanced side to side, noticing, yet again, the looks of hopelessness, sadness, and fear. Xulan’s soldiers had little courage left. The squirming blackness sapped bravery.
“My Lord!” The lieutenant followed, determined to be heard. “I beg you!” He stopped as Xulan’s gaze met his own. A kind of warmth and spirit washed over the young man, wiping away his doubts. The relief was palpable. A tear formed in his eye, from the sheer magnitude of the feeling. He saluted, and, without another word, marched off, to spread his newfound morale.
The golden light of valor did not resonate…entirely from within Xulan, of course. A mere byproduct of the Demigod’s status- or at least partially. The immortal strode along, with a single intent in mind. He found himself in the center of the soldier’s encampment. A crowd had already formed, each man wishing for a bit of miracle.
Xulan moved slowly, deliberately. He gripped his sword, and simple piece inlaid with golden wires. Drawing the blade, he drew upon his flailing reserves, lighting the steel like a beacon. The Knight of Sol stabbed the weapon high into the air. A blast of incredible light erupted from the blade, streaking into the dark sky. The night never stood a chance.
He spoke then. Xulan’s face set slightly with determination. “We must.” The words were quiet, but they echoed over the camp, the only sound in the night. The words were nothing like the men had expected. Gravelly, deep, and sure. A man’s voice. Not a god’s. The demigod was just that. A half-human. Nervous and determined, like the rest.
The resulting calm was uncanny. Far from demoralizing the soldiers around, the discovery of equality empowered each with a new resolve. This man, their leader, cared as much as the rest of them. Xulan was no aristocrat warlord, fighting for boredom or fame. He was a Knight, fighting for a princely cause. No uproar took hold, but a gentle wave of resolve rippled through those gathered. Purpose had been reaffirmed. The battle would be fought to the last.
The die had been cast. Swords were sharpened with renewed vigor. Shields hefted without hesitation. This battle would end, this hour. There was to be no more waiting.
*
Xulan
twirled the blade around, and back into its’ scabbard. The battle had
not yet begun. He replaced his hands behind his back, and strode back to
his tent. There was unfinished business to take care of. A simple set
of burnished steel armor rested on the war desk. Once weak and unwieldy,
the demigod moved with strength, sweeping the plates off the table, and
fastening them to his person. The bracers, first- then the greaves, the
mail, and finally, the golden chestpiece.The Knight retrieved his shield from its place on the shelf, slipping the metal piece to its place. Xulan, thus prepared, joined his comrades, on the front line. His golden aura drove back the shadows, bolstering the confidence of all around. The screeching enemy did not halt in the slightest, but combat was no longer a single side. A slaughter had been avoided. A war had been assured.
The hissing and screaming halted. It was time. First one, the three, then ten: the shadows rolled forward, silent as the grave. Xulan stepped forward, increasing in speed as he charged down the slope, leading his men into the fray. His blade seemed to leap from his sheath in an astounding display of skill, with the light itself cutting down the shadows, wherever the rays fell. A hundred dark forms vaporized in the key seconds before the clash.
Xulan was acutely aware of all things, and yet…at the same time, his senses were dulled. He could feel everything, but at the same time…nothing. The pre-battle adrenaline, no doubt. Then the armies collided. One, black and silent; The other, bright and roaring, illuminated by the light of the stars.
Xulan’s force fought with steadfast resolve. The field quickly dissolved into hundreds of tiny frays, hacking and slashing at one another. The demigod himself showed his warfare prowess- hundreds of inky creatures fell to the master warrior. The Knight whirled and dance with a blinding light, melting away enemies from yards off. Though the men fought with strength and courage, none could match the immortal.
The shift was gradual, and inevitable. The soldiers of light were pressed back, step by deliberate step. Less men rallied with each call. More black forms poured from the rear. There was no end. Xulan was the last to give ground, but even he could not stem the vicious tide of darkness. He stepped back, once. Then again. His men saw him give ground, however little, and panicked. Only one of them all was immortal.
Xulan considered the options. There were several, but only one would save his people. And that, he reflected, was all that mattered. He nodded to himself, confirming the action he had known would one day occur. He stopped, and turned to face his fearful followers.
*
For
the first time, since Xulan’s first spark of existence, a gentle smile
floated across his face- the look of one at peace, finally. He raised
his sword, giving off another brilliant flash of light. Then another.
Then another. The shadows around him disappeared. They stood no chance.
But the demigod was not finished.The immortal continued to pulse with light, steadily beating faster and faster. There was no going back.
The young lieutenant burst from the line, racing up in front of his liege. A single tear streaked down his face, but he said nothing. He had nothing to say. The man wiped the drop from his cheek, and saluted.
Xulan’s benevolent smile widened, but only just. He spoke, in the voice of a true god- beautiful, smooth, and kind. “My dear man. You have a wonderful heart within you.” The light did not hurt the lieutenant, despite the intense brightness. The shadows screamed silently, fighting against the immortal’s assault.
The man bowed. “Th…thank you, My Lord.” He looked up, at the majestic being in front of him. It was harder to make out the figure, now.
Xulan’s form blurred. Once, twice. Then he reached out, and touched the lieutenant on his forehead. “You will make a noble king, my friend. One worthy of immortal legend. I grant you this…this final, parting gift. Lead these men, in my stead. Protect their families, guard their well-beings. I ask this of you. Do you accept?”
The young man’s eyes closed, briefly, as if casting the dice of fate. Then he inhaled, a deep, slow breath, and answered. “I accept.”
Xulan, now more a white haze than a humanoid, nodded, and stepped back, crossing his arms. “I trust the fate of our people with you, then. Farewell, noble soul.”
The man could only watch, as Xulan closed his eyes, for the final time, and exploded in a blaze of brightness, illuminating the dark with a light that effortlessly seared away the shadows. The army of evil dark was gone in a flash.
The lieutenant fell to his knees. The tears came freely, now. He made no effort to stop them. He asked himself continuously, why? Why should this man evoke such tears? They had barely spoken. Barely met. Why was he so affected?
There was no true answer. There was no logic in these emotions. There was only agonizing sadness, and a horrible loss. They had won, yes, but at what cost?
He looked up. He could see nothing. The tears still blurred his eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to wipe them away. But the warming light demanded his attention. He could not ignore it. He wiped his eyes clear. And stopped, astonished.
A brilliant sphere-like ball of light rose from the horizon, illuminating the landscape. For the first time, the lieutenant could see without the need of a torch, or the stars. The light had arrived gradually, to avoid blinding any. The young man nearly wept, again. With joy. This magnificent glow wiped away all of his sorrows.
Even then, a wriggling worm of doubt entered his mind. What did they call this, this thing? How could they possible name such a glorious sight?
But a voice, soft and kind, banished the thoughts. This is surise, the end of the night. Do not wonder at it. Embrace the light, for it will show you many wonders of the world.
Xulan had returned. Returned for his final dawn.
Improvisations: 1-3
#1
It didn't always look like this. We had a good thing going, didn't we? A triumph. Success. We had everything we wanted. Humanity was on a roll, huh? We didn't have to screw up: we had it made.
But end it did, just a few days ago. The higher-ups got a little too greedy for their own good. And they started with me. My family, my friends. What did I do to deserve this? I had a normal job, a normal life. I was just a builder. I made the skyscrapers of the rich, and the houses of the regulars. Then the Bureau took it all away.
What's the Bureau? Well, I think you can figure that out. Imagine every government and major corporation coming together under one flag. All united, for better or for worse. That's the Bureau.
Well, I won't let them ruin me. I've come too far in life, working with my own two hands. I won't let them take it all away. I've got a few friends, in the same boat as me.
We'll start something. I don't know what, but we'll change this world. One way or another, I'm going to fix it all.
Everything.
*****
#2
What is the soul? There is no such thing, or so I always believed. The soul of life does not exist. I thought I knew this. We knew this. It is pointless to try and assume that such a thing exists. The soul is but a construct of intelligence. Ingenuity has been pushed to the side, and those with 'soul' are considered the best of the best by our society.
And yet...it is impossible to find fault with the believers in the spirit. I certainly cannot, now that everything has come to terms so quickly. They always believed in him, I'm sure. Those of us who weren't involved with religion feel fairly foolish now, I suppose. We tried to shoot him down. We expressed all our doubts. For every trouble, he had an answer that blew us away. If only we'd known.
He did appear, yes. A true deity. One day, suddenly, it showed in the news. A man creating gold from nothing. He brought a man back from the brink of death, and his touch instilled energy and power within those it touched. There was no denial.
He could have been a man from the future, or a magician, or any other manner of trickster. We were certainly all skeptics. I myself tried to debunk him. But there was no way to prove that he wasn't all he claimed to be. His touch, well, it showed me that I was vastly mistaken about many, many things.
But I am still unsure. I can't believe this man is an omnipotent. I have made my living on proving that he isn't, that we as creatures of evolution have come this far on our own initiative. It would be too much to bear, if I am wrong.
There is still so much I do not understand.
*****
#3
---
It's been a long time since the bastards moved in. Humanity wasn't ready to deal with them. Not by a long shot. We were so wrapped up in our own self-important bullshit, we completely ignored our real safety. The United Worlds never said anything about an alien invasion, right? Nothing like that could ever happen, right? So they said.
And look where we are now. Almost gone. Mars, Earth, Europa...there aren't too many places we humans can live in this Solar System. That was the biggest problem. We only had three planets. They had...what, two dozen, at least? Billions of soldiers, tons and tons of war machines. What chance did our worlds have, fighting back and forth like little kids? They swarmed in last week. Just dropped. Right out of the sky.
It was an eclipse. Worse, even. The sun itself disappear, suffocated by metal, and screaming Xenos. What the hell were we supposed to call them? They were completely unlike anything we'd ever seen, physically, and mentally. We barely fought off the first wave.
Thankfully, our warring sovereigns had been paranoid enough of each other to come up with some high tech weaponry. Lasers, plasma, and nuclear explosions, all ripped them from the sky, in hundreds, thousands. We actually stopped them, at first. It took everything we had. The nukes were done, the lasers drained, and too many factories had been wrecked to replace them.
Plan B. Evacuate to Mars. Oh, wait, Mars was gone. They didn't have quite the arsenal Earth did. One of our only three planets, completely wiped away. The Xenos literally covered the surface, rippling, fleshy, horrible waves.
Of course, the ever-terrified higher-ups had a Plan C, and probably one for every letter in the alphabet. Europa. The moon was still small, in terms of population. Only about ten thousand humans. It was time to go. I was lucky; as a soldier, I got a free ride to the huge rock. Of course, getting off the planet wasn't the real problem. Our ships cut through theirs like bullets through paper. It was probably our only advantage, one that wouldn't last long against their numbers.
Getting to the Evac ships was a whole other problem. The Xenos had nasty shit. Their guns tore through our body armor and shields so easily. So...God, I don't ever want to remember what I saw. But, for the sake of the next generation, I'll tell as much as I dare.
Step one: get out of the hellish little building we'd barricaded ourselves in. The guys in my unit, well, we were all friends. Machine-like precision, that's what we had. We waited for a lull, and then the Mac gave the signal. Guns loaded, but not to be fired if we could help it. We slipped out onto the street, unseen. For the time being. Only for the time being.
We got maybe...thirty steps, before there was a screech. We all turned, but Mac, he...stopped us. Told us to keep going. I wanted to stay, but some of the other guys, my friends and brothers, they got the jump on me. Now, I'll be honest, I'm that stoic. I'm pretty emotional. But...damn, but when the ones who were running grabbed my arms, I almost shot them down. They were dragging me away from my comrades. "Live together, die together": our simple and clichéd motto meant nothing. Not anymore.
Well, we made it out. But then came the next hard part. Other runaways. Civilians. They begged and pleaded for us to save them, and we had to. That was what we had sworn to do. But it was such a horrible idea. They slowed us down, gave away our position, countless times. I lost two more of my comrades. There was only five of us left, and we weren't any closer to the ship.
Well, I thought we weren't, but suddenly we turned the corner, and there it was. It was completely hidden, and we almost missed it (even though we had a vague idea of where it was), but it uncloaked, just in time. We rushed for it, but, of course, one of the poor bastards we were escorting tripped up, and cried out in pain.
No time for hesitation. The Xenos came screeching around the corner. A huge pack of them. There was no way to stop them.
I still don't know why I'm alive. The other four guys rushed the civvies to the shuttle, as best they could, and then threw me on, too. I could have cracked their skulls. Hell, I wanted to. But the door shut, and the ship was gone. And so were they.
Fuck, I don't know how I can keep telling this story. I've been on Europa since Monday. The Xenos hadn't tried to raid here, yet, even though they must have known about it. They probably just wanted the resources. As much as I fucking hate them, I can understand their reasons.
But...but, I'm not done with their sorry asses. Oh, no. We've "suddenly" been contacted by another race. Not the Xenos. They say they can help. Apparently the two have a little grudge. What can I say? We accepted their offer. They'll arrive by the end of the week.
I lost my home, my friends, and my life. I won't rest until I get it back.
*****
A set of quick, improvisational writing that I did in spare minutes of my days.
It didn't always look like this. We had a good thing going, didn't we? A triumph. Success. We had everything we wanted. Humanity was on a roll, huh? We didn't have to screw up: we had it made.
But end it did, just a few days ago. The higher-ups got a little too greedy for their own good. And they started with me. My family, my friends. What did I do to deserve this? I had a normal job, a normal life. I was just a builder. I made the skyscrapers of the rich, and the houses of the regulars. Then the Bureau took it all away.
What's the Bureau? Well, I think you can figure that out. Imagine every government and major corporation coming together under one flag. All united, for better or for worse. That's the Bureau.
Well, I won't let them ruin me. I've come too far in life, working with my own two hands. I won't let them take it all away. I've got a few friends, in the same boat as me.
We'll start something. I don't know what, but we'll change this world. One way or another, I'm going to fix it all.
Everything.
#2
What is the soul? There is no such thing, or so I always believed. The soul of life does not exist. I thought I knew this. We knew this. It is pointless to try and assume that such a thing exists. The soul is but a construct of intelligence. Ingenuity has been pushed to the side, and those with 'soul' are considered the best of the best by our society.
And yet...it is impossible to find fault with the believers in the spirit. I certainly cannot, now that everything has come to terms so quickly. They always believed in him, I'm sure. Those of us who weren't involved with religion feel fairly foolish now, I suppose. We tried to shoot him down. We expressed all our doubts. For every trouble, he had an answer that blew us away. If only we'd known.
He did appear, yes. A true deity. One day, suddenly, it showed in the news. A man creating gold from nothing. He brought a man back from the brink of death, and his touch instilled energy and power within those it touched. There was no denial.
He could have been a man from the future, or a magician, or any other manner of trickster. We were certainly all skeptics. I myself tried to debunk him. But there was no way to prove that he wasn't all he claimed to be. His touch, well, it showed me that I was vastly mistaken about many, many things.
But I am still unsure. I can't believe this man is an omnipotent. I have made my living on proving that he isn't, that we as creatures of evolution have come this far on our own initiative. It would be too much to bear, if I am wrong.
There is still so much I do not understand.
#3
---
It's been a long time since the bastards moved in. Humanity wasn't ready to deal with them. Not by a long shot. We were so wrapped up in our own self-important bullshit, we completely ignored our real safety. The United Worlds never said anything about an alien invasion, right? Nothing like that could ever happen, right? So they said.
And look where we are now. Almost gone. Mars, Earth, Europa...there aren't too many places we humans can live in this Solar System. That was the biggest problem. We only had three planets. They had...what, two dozen, at least? Billions of soldiers, tons and tons of war machines. What chance did our worlds have, fighting back and forth like little kids? They swarmed in last week. Just dropped. Right out of the sky.
It was an eclipse. Worse, even. The sun itself disappear, suffocated by metal, and screaming Xenos. What the hell were we supposed to call them? They were completely unlike anything we'd ever seen, physically, and mentally. We barely fought off the first wave.
Thankfully, our warring sovereigns had been paranoid enough of each other to come up with some high tech weaponry. Lasers, plasma, and nuclear explosions, all ripped them from the sky, in hundreds, thousands. We actually stopped them, at first. It took everything we had. The nukes were done, the lasers drained, and too many factories had been wrecked to replace them.
Plan B. Evacuate to Mars. Oh, wait, Mars was gone. They didn't have quite the arsenal Earth did. One of our only three planets, completely wiped away. The Xenos literally covered the surface, rippling, fleshy, horrible waves.
Of course, the ever-terrified higher-ups had a Plan C, and probably one for every letter in the alphabet. Europa. The moon was still small, in terms of population. Only about ten thousand humans. It was time to go. I was lucky; as a soldier, I got a free ride to the huge rock. Of course, getting off the planet wasn't the real problem. Our ships cut through theirs like bullets through paper. It was probably our only advantage, one that wouldn't last long against their numbers.
Getting to the Evac ships was a whole other problem. The Xenos had nasty shit. Their guns tore through our body armor and shields so easily. So...God, I don't ever want to remember what I saw. But, for the sake of the next generation, I'll tell as much as I dare.
Step one: get out of the hellish little building we'd barricaded ourselves in. The guys in my unit, well, we were all friends. Machine-like precision, that's what we had. We waited for a lull, and then the Mac gave the signal. Guns loaded, but not to be fired if we could help it. We slipped out onto the street, unseen. For the time being. Only for the time being.
We got maybe...thirty steps, before there was a screech. We all turned, but Mac, he...stopped us. Told us to keep going. I wanted to stay, but some of the other guys, my friends and brothers, they got the jump on me. Now, I'll be honest, I'm that stoic. I'm pretty emotional. But...damn, but when the ones who were running grabbed my arms, I almost shot them down. They were dragging me away from my comrades. "Live together, die together": our simple and clichéd motto meant nothing. Not anymore.
Well, we made it out. But then came the next hard part. Other runaways. Civilians. They begged and pleaded for us to save them, and we had to. That was what we had sworn to do. But it was such a horrible idea. They slowed us down, gave away our position, countless times. I lost two more of my comrades. There was only five of us left, and we weren't any closer to the ship.
Well, I thought we weren't, but suddenly we turned the corner, and there it was. It was completely hidden, and we almost missed it (even though we had a vague idea of where it was), but it uncloaked, just in time. We rushed for it, but, of course, one of the poor bastards we were escorting tripped up, and cried out in pain.
No time for hesitation. The Xenos came screeching around the corner. A huge pack of them. There was no way to stop them.
I still don't know why I'm alive. The other four guys rushed the civvies to the shuttle, as best they could, and then threw me on, too. I could have cracked their skulls. Hell, I wanted to. But the door shut, and the ship was gone. And so were they.
Fuck, I don't know how I can keep telling this story. I've been on Europa since Monday. The Xenos hadn't tried to raid here, yet, even though they must have known about it. They probably just wanted the resources. As much as I fucking hate them, I can understand their reasons.
But...but, I'm not done with their sorry asses. Oh, no. We've "suddenly" been contacted by another race. Not the Xenos. They say they can help. Apparently the two have a little grudge. What can I say? We accepted their offer. They'll arrive by the end of the week.
I lost my home, my friends, and my life. I won't rest until I get it back.
A set of quick, improvisational writing that I did in spare minutes of my days.
Flight
He cursed, vehemently, as his left boot slipped off the rock, shaking his very grip of the cliff-side. It took all his strength to not let go and fall, four hundred feet straight-down, to his death. Twice now, his shoes had slipped from the wet stone, and each time, he had hung on by a single hand. He’d waited months for this day, and nothing was going to stop him.
With a groan of effort, he pulled himself up another few feet. The rope around his waist was cutting off his circulation, but that didn’t matter, as long as he succeeded. His arm snaked up to the next handhold, and his foot lodged itself firmly in a new crack. Almost there. He climbed another foot higher. Almost there.
He barely realized he had made it; his hand simply fell over the edge, rather than finding the next hold. He hardly cared, really: every muscle in his body screamed in agony.
Acting on instinct alone, he rolled onto solid ground moments before his legs cramped, and he lost all control of his appendages. A reflexive laugh clawed its way out of his throat, more a method of dealing with the pain than anything.
He could have lay there for hours, oblivious to everything but his pain, but he became acutely aware of the rope still crushing his waist, so with massive effort, he rolled onto his stomach, and grabbed the rope. Slowly, painfully, he pulled the cord up, lifting the heavy box tied to the other side to the top. His arms were going to fall off, he was sure of it. Nevertheless, he kept pulling. The box was his entire reason for coming here, after all- losing it now would invalidate all of his suffering.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could have lasted, but suddenly the bag was beside him, and he was on his back again. This time around, he couldn’t move at all, and blackness flickered on the edges of his vision. A tired grin flickered across his face, and he welcomed the dark, with its soothing embrace and peaceful bliss.
-
He woke abruptly at dusk. Parched and tired, he sat up, grunting as his sore muscles clenched up again. The full moon shone down on the little mesa, illuminating everything almost as much as the sun. He waited for a minute or so before he moved again, attempting to get some semblance of response from his limbs.
Eventually, after much consternation and painful stretching, He managed to get to his knees, and crawled over to the box. Flipping the latches, he opened the lid, and a warm multicolored light washed over his face. He instantly felt lighter, and his aching alleviated, somewhat. Thus was the power of the materials he used. He pulled a leather bag from the box, and looked inside, counting the number of metal ingots inside. He checked the side of the box as well, where a number of blue feathers were stored in separate ‘sheaths’.
Satisfied, he shut the box, and stood, albeit awkwardly. He turned to the other edge of the cliff, where a large, metallic rock sat slightly back from empty space. His reason for coming up here in the first place. He lifted the box and limped over to the green-tinted rock.
Setting down the wooden container, he pulled a strange, glowing hammerhead of gold and silver from the box, along with a short rod of metal. Connecting the two pieces, he tossed the hammer into the air experimentally, pleased with the balance. It was a surprisingly light tool.
From there, he pulled the bag of ingots from the box, and emptied it onto the metallic rock. He grabbed the glowing materials from the box as well, and spread them out evenly over the green surface. He twirled the hammer thoughtfully, then took a light blue orb and a pink orb, and placed them side by side, next to one of the silver ingots. He drew back his hammer-arm, and slammed it down onto the materials.
Rather than smashing into the rock, the hammer went right through the three things, as if a ghostly apparition. It passed through the rock as well, and swung out at his side. He looked at the result, content. The green rock underneath the former materials glowed with energy, and the ingredients were separate no longer. In their place, a shining bar of metal pulsed with newfound power. He lifted the ingot appreciatively. It was far lighter than it had been previously. He reached into the box, and pulled one of the feathers from its spot on the side. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he worked, all of his previous pain defied and ignored. He was so close.
He touched the feather to the glowing ingot, and watched in fascination as it was literally sucked into the metal. Instantly, a change occurred: the bar weighed next to nothing, as if it was barely heavy enough to stay down on the ground, and not float into the sky. He grinned, exhilarated, set the finished bar back inside the box, and pulled out the next set of materials. With a light heart and a fierce grin, he set to work.
He finished the creation of the almost-floating metal as the moon began its descent across the sky. From there, he pulled a chisel made of the same material as the hammer from the box, and began the detailed work of creating his dream. He would succeed. He knew it.
-
The sky was lightening when he finalized his work. With a sigh of exhaustion and contentment, he sat, cradling the massive jumble of pieces in his hand. They didn’t look like much, yet, but there was one final piece of the puzzle to be completed. He arrayed the parts on the green, metallic rock in a confusing pattern, one that made sense only to him. He grabbed the chisel again, and started the second to last step, etching a pattern into the metallic rock. A circle, one he had memorized from a book in the library. A fusion circle.
Once completed, he pulled the last item from the chest: a flawless, many-faceted diamond. The final piece. Setting the jewel in the middle of the circle, he settled down to wait for sunrise, when the reaction would occur. He didn’t wait long before the first ray of light cleared the horizon.
The diamond lit up with the morning sun, and launched the light in all directions. As he watched, the entire stone lit up like a lantern, and tendrils of energy slowly fizzled into the air, one by one obscuring the metal pieces and parts. He watched in awe as it flashed blindingly in the dawn light, sparking and flashing rapidly. He had to close his eyes to avoid losing his sight.
When he finally opened them again, his jaw dropped open a little. There, sitting on the rock, was a pristine pair of metallic, feathered wings. He moved as if in a dream, slowly approaching the device and lifting it off the stone, and examined the work of art. Aside from the perfectly shaped, almost weightless wings attached to a main frame of sorts, two pairs of straps- obviously to secure the mechanism to the user’s back- branched off from the frame.
The spell broke suddenly, and he slipped the wings onto his back, excitedly securing the straps and slipping a loop around each of his fingers. He clenched his fingers experimentally, and the wings whipped downward, nearly blasting him off the cliff. He laughed in delight, and steadied himself. This was it: his dream for years, and his project for months. He grabbed the hammer and chisel, kicked the box off the edge in his excitement, and took several steps back.
Without a second thought, he dashed toward the edge of the cliff, and hurled himself off the edge, spreading his arms and clenching his fists. The wings flapped once, twice, three times; and then he was lifted into the air, riding the wind. He shouted jubilantly into the air, his voice echoing over the hills. He unclenched his hands, and the wings stilled, unfurled. The wind caught him, then, and sent him gliding over the world.
He quickly became accustomed to the new ‘terrain’. A simple lowering of the shoulders caused him to descend, and a simple twitch of the fingers caused him to rise. He soared over the earth in happiness, spinning, whirling, and diving as he became accustomed to the wings. Up down, left right. He veered toward a cliff-side and stretched out his feet. They hit the wall and he started running, up the side of the cliff. As his speed waned, he kicked off, and flipping backward into open space once again, and whirling down, picking up speed again.
He sped toward a forest, smiling savagely as he reached out with a hand. He glided across the tree tops, plucking leaves from the trees as he wove in and out of the taller ones. He’d finally done it. After years of dreaming and months of planning, he’d done it. He was the first man to play with the birds on their own turf, the first person to ride the wind.
He was the first man in flight.
*
-Inspired by a piece of techno music by the duo 'Approaching Nirvana', called 2nd Flight, and the legend of Icarus.
-The wings are a representation of Angel Wings, in case you couldn't guess.
-Character is unnamed for a reason.
With a groan of effort, he pulled himself up another few feet. The rope around his waist was cutting off his circulation, but that didn’t matter, as long as he succeeded. His arm snaked up to the next handhold, and his foot lodged itself firmly in a new crack. Almost there. He climbed another foot higher. Almost there.
He barely realized he had made it; his hand simply fell over the edge, rather than finding the next hold. He hardly cared, really: every muscle in his body screamed in agony.
Acting on instinct alone, he rolled onto solid ground moments before his legs cramped, and he lost all control of his appendages. A reflexive laugh clawed its way out of his throat, more a method of dealing with the pain than anything.
He could have lay there for hours, oblivious to everything but his pain, but he became acutely aware of the rope still crushing his waist, so with massive effort, he rolled onto his stomach, and grabbed the rope. Slowly, painfully, he pulled the cord up, lifting the heavy box tied to the other side to the top. His arms were going to fall off, he was sure of it. Nevertheless, he kept pulling. The box was his entire reason for coming here, after all- losing it now would invalidate all of his suffering.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could have lasted, but suddenly the bag was beside him, and he was on his back again. This time around, he couldn’t move at all, and blackness flickered on the edges of his vision. A tired grin flickered across his face, and he welcomed the dark, with its soothing embrace and peaceful bliss.
-
He woke abruptly at dusk. Parched and tired, he sat up, grunting as his sore muscles clenched up again. The full moon shone down on the little mesa, illuminating everything almost as much as the sun. He waited for a minute or so before he moved again, attempting to get some semblance of response from his limbs.
Eventually, after much consternation and painful stretching, He managed to get to his knees, and crawled over to the box. Flipping the latches, he opened the lid, and a warm multicolored light washed over his face. He instantly felt lighter, and his aching alleviated, somewhat. Thus was the power of the materials he used. He pulled a leather bag from the box, and looked inside, counting the number of metal ingots inside. He checked the side of the box as well, where a number of blue feathers were stored in separate ‘sheaths’.
Satisfied, he shut the box, and stood, albeit awkwardly. He turned to the other edge of the cliff, where a large, metallic rock sat slightly back from empty space. His reason for coming up here in the first place. He lifted the box and limped over to the green-tinted rock.
Setting down the wooden container, he pulled a strange, glowing hammerhead of gold and silver from the box, along with a short rod of metal. Connecting the two pieces, he tossed the hammer into the air experimentally, pleased with the balance. It was a surprisingly light tool.
From there, he pulled the bag of ingots from the box, and emptied it onto the metallic rock. He grabbed the glowing materials from the box as well, and spread them out evenly over the green surface. He twirled the hammer thoughtfully, then took a light blue orb and a pink orb, and placed them side by side, next to one of the silver ingots. He drew back his hammer-arm, and slammed it down onto the materials.
Rather than smashing into the rock, the hammer went right through the three things, as if a ghostly apparition. It passed through the rock as well, and swung out at his side. He looked at the result, content. The green rock underneath the former materials glowed with energy, and the ingredients were separate no longer. In their place, a shining bar of metal pulsed with newfound power. He lifted the ingot appreciatively. It was far lighter than it had been previously. He reached into the box, and pulled one of the feathers from its spot on the side. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he worked, all of his previous pain defied and ignored. He was so close.
He touched the feather to the glowing ingot, and watched in fascination as it was literally sucked into the metal. Instantly, a change occurred: the bar weighed next to nothing, as if it was barely heavy enough to stay down on the ground, and not float into the sky. He grinned, exhilarated, set the finished bar back inside the box, and pulled out the next set of materials. With a light heart and a fierce grin, he set to work.
He finished the creation of the almost-floating metal as the moon began its descent across the sky. From there, he pulled a chisel made of the same material as the hammer from the box, and began the detailed work of creating his dream. He would succeed. He knew it.
-
The sky was lightening when he finalized his work. With a sigh of exhaustion and contentment, he sat, cradling the massive jumble of pieces in his hand. They didn’t look like much, yet, but there was one final piece of the puzzle to be completed. He arrayed the parts on the green, metallic rock in a confusing pattern, one that made sense only to him. He grabbed the chisel again, and started the second to last step, etching a pattern into the metallic rock. A circle, one he had memorized from a book in the library. A fusion circle.
Once completed, he pulled the last item from the chest: a flawless, many-faceted diamond. The final piece. Setting the jewel in the middle of the circle, he settled down to wait for sunrise, when the reaction would occur. He didn’t wait long before the first ray of light cleared the horizon.
The diamond lit up with the morning sun, and launched the light in all directions. As he watched, the entire stone lit up like a lantern, and tendrils of energy slowly fizzled into the air, one by one obscuring the metal pieces and parts. He watched in awe as it flashed blindingly in the dawn light, sparking and flashing rapidly. He had to close his eyes to avoid losing his sight.
When he finally opened them again, his jaw dropped open a little. There, sitting on the rock, was a pristine pair of metallic, feathered wings. He moved as if in a dream, slowly approaching the device and lifting it off the stone, and examined the work of art. Aside from the perfectly shaped, almost weightless wings attached to a main frame of sorts, two pairs of straps- obviously to secure the mechanism to the user’s back- branched off from the frame.
The spell broke suddenly, and he slipped the wings onto his back, excitedly securing the straps and slipping a loop around each of his fingers. He clenched his fingers experimentally, and the wings whipped downward, nearly blasting him off the cliff. He laughed in delight, and steadied himself. This was it: his dream for years, and his project for months. He grabbed the hammer and chisel, kicked the box off the edge in his excitement, and took several steps back.
Without a second thought, he dashed toward the edge of the cliff, and hurled himself off the edge, spreading his arms and clenching his fists. The wings flapped once, twice, three times; and then he was lifted into the air, riding the wind. He shouted jubilantly into the air, his voice echoing over the hills. He unclenched his hands, and the wings stilled, unfurled. The wind caught him, then, and sent him gliding over the world.
He quickly became accustomed to the new ‘terrain’. A simple lowering of the shoulders caused him to descend, and a simple twitch of the fingers caused him to rise. He soared over the earth in happiness, spinning, whirling, and diving as he became accustomed to the wings. Up down, left right. He veered toward a cliff-side and stretched out his feet. They hit the wall and he started running, up the side of the cliff. As his speed waned, he kicked off, and flipping backward into open space once again, and whirling down, picking up speed again.
He sped toward a forest, smiling savagely as he reached out with a hand. He glided across the tree tops, plucking leaves from the trees as he wove in and out of the taller ones. He’d finally done it. After years of dreaming and months of planning, he’d done it. He was the first man to play with the birds on their own turf, the first person to ride the wind.
He was the first man in flight.
*
-Inspired by a piece of techno music by the duo 'Approaching Nirvana', called 2nd Flight, and the legend of Icarus.
-The wings are a representation of Angel Wings, in case you couldn't guess.
-Character is unnamed for a reason.
Courage
“General Altos!” A young man, a lieutenant, slipped and scurried his way up the steep hill. Altos had ascended the hill without a thought, but others were not quite as limber as he. “Altos, sir!
Altos glanced at the lieutenant. “Yes, soldier, what is it?”
“We’ve obtained a general idea as to their numbers, sir. It looks as if our original estimations were overly optimistic. They have a hundred thousand soldiers, General. That’s four times ours.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, General.” The man shifted uncomfortably. “We cannot hold against such numbers, sir.” A pause. “The men are growing restless, even without knowing the odds. There’s been talk of desertion. No one here wants to die, and, honestly, our reason for fighting seems a bit weak.” Altos was silent for a long while. The lieutenant shifted again. “Sir?”
“I will speak to them. Do not falter in your efforts, lieutenant. Any and all information you can obtain on our enemies is both useful and valued. You are dismissed.”
The lieutenant bowed, and staggered back down the hill. Altos looked over his shoulder, to his hastily erected tent. A horse stood there, tied to a post. Inside, his second in command and brother waited. The other man met Altos’ gaze intently. There was nothing else to do.
Altos gathered his energy, and painfully made his way to the edge of the hill. He was not injured, physically. The battle had been long, and the sacrifices great, and now he learned that it was all for naught. He was not as young as he had once been, either. His arm shook, but he stilled it through sheer will.
“Soldiers!” Altos roared. His voice carried over the practically flat land, causing all the various people below him to suddenly freeze and turn their gazes to him. “To me!”
With all attention on him, Altos stepped onto the side of the hill, and descended to the camp. Whispers and looks all hissed all around him. The General rarely descended from his tent during times of ‘peace’. He spent the time planning, and thinking. For him to be walking through the common soldier’s camp was rare indeed.
He made his way to a scaffold of sorts, where messengers and merchants spoke and traded. Took one heavy step after another, up the creaking wooden steps. He turned to face the crowd. He took in their features, their defeated, bleak looks, and made his decision. They would fight, no matter the cost.
“Comrades! I have recently been informed of our enemy’s numbers.” He was cut off by murmurings and shifty glances. “They far outnumber us! A hundred thousand men!”
He was stopped again, this time by outraged cries and moans of fear. He persevered. “We are tired, cold. Our muscles sore, our minds weary. You wish to flee, and I would accompany you without hesitation.” This statement brought another round of muttering.
“I would leave with you, if only I were able! To abandon this cause of ours and retreat to safety! I would gladly flee!” The rain continued to fall, pouring onto his face, soaking his grey-streaked hair. “This, I would do, and do it happily.”
He raised a hand. “But consider why we are here! We are not here for some baseless purpose. We are not here on the whim of some warlord or prince. No! We are here for a far nobler cause!”
There were no more unhappy sounds from the crowd of bedraggled soldiers. They were staring at him with almost hungry looks on their faces.
“I have come here, today, in the hopes of ending a conflict which has long since run its course! A war which has torn families apart, ripped men from their homes, and crushed the souls of those left behind.”
His voice continued to rise. “We are here, not because of our own reasons, but because we will not stand these horrors any longer! WE WILL NOT LET OUR ENEMY DESTROY US AND ALL WE STAND FOR!”
A fierce light burned in Altos’ eyes. “My friends! We are here to protect our families, our livelihoods, and our world itself! Will we abandon our position simply because we are outmatched? NO! We will stand here, and hold our lines! We will fight! Take heart in your purpose, men! Show the enemy that your courage cannot be denied! We will fight! And we will win!”
It was hastily created and even more so delivered, but Altos’ army bellowed approval. They stomped their feet, banged swords on shields, and shouted.
As if on cue, the sun peeked out of the clouds, shining down on the silver army. Altos had not even realized that the rain had stopped.
“Are you with me, comrades? Will you give me the honor of fighting alongside you?” As the sun shone down onto his face, and the sound of victory filled the air, he heard the answer before it came. Slow and disjointed at first, but then more and more powerful.
“YES! YES! WE WILL FIGHT!”
*
-Definitely one of my weaker works. I wrote it at midnight and so it isn't really that good. It's just a little bit I wanted to write, like a general giving the most inspiring speech imaginable to his troops. Yes, I know it isn't really that inspirational but that's because there isn't a story to inspire with, nor will there be.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
The Soundscape
Part one. This is gonna be good.
*****
Headphones in. Volume maxed. Good to go. I plugged in to my laptop, flipping up the screen, and tapping my fingers impatiently as the home screen slowly came to life. I'd turned off the system sounds, of course: everyone with half a brain did, if you knew how to work a PC.
It was just how I'd left it: music folder open on one side, and email on another. The regular schedule was to refresh, just to see the hundreds of spam emails, filtering past my most devious blocks. I guess I just needed to stop signing up for websites. Maybe I was on the internet too much.
Dum, dum, dum... Select them all, erase--Wait. A single, quiet message caught my eye. It wasn't trying to sell me male performance boosters, car insurance, or a blue whale. All it said was "This is a matter of the utmost importance to any audiophile." The sender was unknown, which was weird. Naturally, my curiosity got the better of me. What was I supposed to do? Music was essentially my life.
I clicked the email.
The message was short, too.
Download the file, and listen to it. You won't regret it.
I should have just deleted the email, right? I should have just discounted it as another spam sender, trying to trick me into downloading a virus or something. I should have gone about my business.
I downloaded the file. It had a cool name, the song, or whatever it was: Mind Lift. And it was in a high quality file format, too. To someone like me, I couldn't leave it alone.
I clicked the file.
The song started to play. It was catchy, in an odd sort of way: almost like there was an inaudible bass beat behind it all. It was an ambient piece, and sounded a bit like ocean waves mixed with a light-hearted synth. Nothing too life-changing. [i]Yet another spambot.[/i] Strange reason to spam though, just to put a normal music track in an email and send it to a random guy in college.
Well, the feel isn't not working for me. Good bye, spam sound.
But my arm wouldn't move. I could feel the muscles tensing, slightly, and I could see myself moving the arm, but the arm itself wasn't moving. What? What kind of witchcraft sorcery was this?
The exhaustion came next: I couldn't even keep my eyes open. That song was still playing on the screen, and I realized that it had to be the music. It was the only new thing in my dorm, and this had never happened before. Basic logic, sure, but it was a struggle to think.
Mind shutting down. I tried to call out for help, but I couldn't do that either. I was completely immobilized. It was uncomfortable, but not scary. I felt perfectly safe, just a bit annoyed, and a lot tired.
Maybe if I shut my eyes, it'd help with the tiredness. I could escape the music too, so that could help. When the song ended, I'd probably be fine again. I mean, I couldn't think that clearly, but it seemed to make sense, right?
I stopped fighting, and let myself sink into the sleep. Good night, world.
--------------
"He looks so peaceful. The Lift really worked well for him, huh." Girl's voice. Or maybe a woman's. Or whatever.
"Like a baby. Did you have to up the backsound so much? He's been out for hours now." That was a man's voice. Definitely an older guy.
"Oh, shut up, Brax. I didn't change anything."
"I know a level three backsound when I review it, Violet. This guy didn't need that. It's a miracle his mind hasn't melted."
"Oh, hush." Violet's voice was teasing, but firm. "I needed to see how tough he was."
"You could have killed him, Viol. That's not cool."
"Braxton Tromel, I could swear you sound almost worried about this poor guy."
"Violet Kass, I could have sworn that you were even more insane than usual with this poor guy."
I decided to open my eyes. They worked: hooray. The two figures standing over me were...interesting. One was a smaller man, with dark skin and a near shaved head. The other was a young woman, probably around my age, with silvery blue eyes and brown--purple hair. Some kind of Asian ethnicity. Maybe Asian-American.
That was the first thing I noticed. The second was their clothes. Or rather, their sort-of lack thereof. They weren't wearing clothes, specifically, but some kind of shimmering material covered most of their bodies. It was loose fitting for Braxton, who wore a dark blue...something.
Violet had a more conventional looking outfit: gloves, that was iffy, but a normal T-shirt (well, it was tight fitting, but it was a shirt, I guess), with something like Jeans. They were made of the same half-glowing, half-vibrating material, but at least I could understand it as clothing.
I sat up. The two instantly looked at me.
"Oh, hey!" Violet's eyes lit up. "Look who's awake!" She turned to Braxton. "Suck it." Then she hurried up to me, carefully patting my head with her hands. "Doesn't look like you have any major trauma or brain melts. Good start."
I swatted her hands away. "Please tell me what the hell is going on, Violet."
"You know my name, that's good. Call me Viol. That's Brax." She pointed, and the glowing guy nodded his head. "Nice to meet you, Max. Welcome to the soundscape."
"Soundscape?" That didn't sound good.
Brax chuckled. "Look around. Does this look like a real place? Like, even in the very slightest amount?" The question sounded rethorical. He waved a hand to his side--a window.
I glanced at him, skeptically, but then decided to follow his instructions. After all, he seemed to have an idea as to what was actually going on.
I poked my head out the window, and almost choked. This was definitely not home. Or Earth. Or the Solar System. Or reality.
*****
Part Two coming eventually.
*****
Headphones in. Volume maxed. Good to go. I plugged in to my laptop, flipping up the screen, and tapping my fingers impatiently as the home screen slowly came to life. I'd turned off the system sounds, of course: everyone with half a brain did, if you knew how to work a PC.
It was just how I'd left it: music folder open on one side, and email on another. The regular schedule was to refresh, just to see the hundreds of spam emails, filtering past my most devious blocks. I guess I just needed to stop signing up for websites. Maybe I was on the internet too much.
Dum, dum, dum... Select them all, erase--Wait. A single, quiet message caught my eye. It wasn't trying to sell me male performance boosters, car insurance, or a blue whale. All it said was "This is a matter of the utmost importance to any audiophile." The sender was unknown, which was weird. Naturally, my curiosity got the better of me. What was I supposed to do? Music was essentially my life.
I clicked the email.
The message was short, too.
Download the file, and listen to it. You won't regret it.
I should have just deleted the email, right? I should have just discounted it as another spam sender, trying to trick me into downloading a virus or something. I should have gone about my business.
I downloaded the file. It had a cool name, the song, or whatever it was: Mind Lift. And it was in a high quality file format, too. To someone like me, I couldn't leave it alone.
I clicked the file.
The song started to play. It was catchy, in an odd sort of way: almost like there was an inaudible bass beat behind it all. It was an ambient piece, and sounded a bit like ocean waves mixed with a light-hearted synth. Nothing too life-changing. [i]Yet another spambot.[/i] Strange reason to spam though, just to put a normal music track in an email and send it to a random guy in college.
Well, the feel isn't not working for me. Good bye, spam sound.
But my arm wouldn't move. I could feel the muscles tensing, slightly, and I could see myself moving the arm, but the arm itself wasn't moving. What? What kind of witchcraft sorcery was this?
The exhaustion came next: I couldn't even keep my eyes open. That song was still playing on the screen, and I realized that it had to be the music. It was the only new thing in my dorm, and this had never happened before. Basic logic, sure, but it was a struggle to think.
Mind shutting down. I tried to call out for help, but I couldn't do that either. I was completely immobilized. It was uncomfortable, but not scary. I felt perfectly safe, just a bit annoyed, and a lot tired.
Maybe if I shut my eyes, it'd help with the tiredness. I could escape the music too, so that could help. When the song ended, I'd probably be fine again. I mean, I couldn't think that clearly, but it seemed to make sense, right?
I stopped fighting, and let myself sink into the sleep. Good night, world.
--------------
"He looks so peaceful. The Lift really worked well for him, huh." Girl's voice. Or maybe a woman's. Or whatever.
"Like a baby. Did you have to up the backsound so much? He's been out for hours now." That was a man's voice. Definitely an older guy.
"Oh, shut up, Brax. I didn't change anything."
"I know a level three backsound when I review it, Violet. This guy didn't need that. It's a miracle his mind hasn't melted."
"Oh, hush." Violet's voice was teasing, but firm. "I needed to see how tough he was."
"You could have killed him, Viol. That's not cool."
"Braxton Tromel, I could swear you sound almost worried about this poor guy."
"Violet Kass, I could have sworn that you were even more insane than usual with this poor guy."
I decided to open my eyes. They worked: hooray. The two figures standing over me were...interesting. One was a smaller man, with dark skin and a near shaved head. The other was a young woman, probably around my age, with silvery blue eyes and brown--purple hair. Some kind of Asian ethnicity. Maybe Asian-American.
That was the first thing I noticed. The second was their clothes. Or rather, their sort-of lack thereof. They weren't wearing clothes, specifically, but some kind of shimmering material covered most of their bodies. It was loose fitting for Braxton, who wore a dark blue...something.
Violet had a more conventional looking outfit: gloves, that was iffy, but a normal T-shirt (well, it was tight fitting, but it was a shirt, I guess), with something like Jeans. They were made of the same half-glowing, half-vibrating material, but at least I could understand it as clothing.
I sat up. The two instantly looked at me.
"Oh, hey!" Violet's eyes lit up. "Look who's awake!" She turned to Braxton. "Suck it." Then she hurried up to me, carefully patting my head with her hands. "Doesn't look like you have any major trauma or brain melts. Good start."
I swatted her hands away. "Please tell me what the hell is going on, Violet."
"You know my name, that's good. Call me Viol. That's Brax." She pointed, and the glowing guy nodded his head. "Nice to meet you, Max. Welcome to the soundscape."
"Soundscape?" That didn't sound good.
Brax chuckled. "Look around. Does this look like a real place? Like, even in the very slightest amount?" The question sounded rethorical. He waved a hand to his side--a window.
I glanced at him, skeptically, but then decided to follow his instructions. After all, he seemed to have an idea as to what was actually going on.
I poked my head out the window, and almost choked. This was definitely not home. Or Earth. Or the Solar System. Or reality.
*****
Part Two coming eventually.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)