Story for class

This is not the final version, I still need to do a total rewrite. It's really quite terrible and full of plot holes.
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The Machine

Introduction

The world came to an end in a single afternoon in May. The governments of the United States and Canada had anticipated the apocalypse and had secreted away whole towns into the wilderness of North America. These towns, powered by nuclear fission reactors and fed from vast supplies of preserved food and planting seed, would wait out the after-effects of the destruction of civilization and hopefully survive to rebuild. The secret towns suddenly lost contact with the world, no one who lives in them knows why.

Dinner

Darla looked away from her dinner at the doorway leading to the hallway. Sighing, she looked back at her meal.
“It’s really quite horrible, isn’t it?” Roger smiled.
“Huh?” Darla looked up, confused.
“You sighed; I can only assume it was the food.”
Darla’s eyes shifted down at her plate. Freeze dried beef stew, carrots, potatoes and gristly meat in scummy water with colored flecks. “I wasn’t commenting on the food.” She said, “I was thinking about the machine.”
Roger nodded, “I like the chicken myself.”
“Which one is the chicken?” said Darla forcing a smile.
“One of the white ones, I think.”
“I’d hope so. When are we going to get fresh food?”
“Don’t know yet; that’s on the council agenda this evening.”
“Armageddon couldn’t save us from bureaucracy.”
“Only death saves you from paperwork.”
“Just wait, they’ll find a way to keep you alive just long enough to sign a form in triplicate.”
“Funny. Really. Look, are you going to go back in tonight?”
Darla looked at the doorway, “Yes.”
“You spend too much time in that thing, it’s going to do you damage.”
Darla rolled her eyes and forked some meat into her mouth.
“Darla…look, just set the timer, ok? Take breaks every hour or so, alright? You remember those cyber-heads who spent all day and night in the machine? Zapped brains, the lot. I don’t want that happening to you.”
Darla sighed, “Don’t worry Roger, I’ll set the timer.”
Roger reached across the table and laid his hand on hers, “Thanks.”

Council Meeting

The Council President hammered on the head table with his gavel. “Silence!” he shouted, “I want silence!”
As the room quieted down, he said, “Now, we have a report on the food stores by Councilmen, Dan and Roger. Gentlemen, the floor belongs to you.”
Roger stood, his co-councilman, Dan followed suit.
Councilman Dan spoke, “Gentlemen, the situation, as you are no doubt aware, is grim. A reasonable estimate gives us six months of food left.”
The room erupted in voices and the President hammered with the gavel.
Roger raised his voice above the din, “The harvest has failed the last three years and this year’s harvest has yet to be planted: which means we must conserve.”
A voice in the room shouted, “We have small children to feed, are we to starve our families?”
Dan said, “There are reasonable rationing plans.”, but his voice was not heard above the noise of the room.
The President hammered his gavel and shouted, “The Council will withdraw into private conference!” He walked out of the council room and Roger, Dan and the other Councilmen followed.
Once in a private room, the President asked Roger and Dan, “What are we going to do about it?”
“Well,” began Roger, “we have a plan.”
The President raised his hands and motioned around the room, “Let’s here it.”
“It’s simple. We assemble a party and go out and find sources of food.”
“Just go get food? Like visit a grocery store?” scoffed the President.
“Obviously not. Wild game, abandoned farm fields with cereals or vegetables. We establish foraging routes through the wilderness.”
“Well, we don’t know what’s out there…the foraging parties would also be able to find out.”
“Exactly, the benefits are two fold, we get badly needed fresh food and we would find out if anyone is out there. I mean, there’s been no communication even with other hidden towns, we just don’t know if we’re all that’s left or if the world has just forgotten about us.”
The President scowled in thought and nodded, “I endorse this plan. Let’s put it to a vote.”

Life

Darla cleaned up after the evening meal and went into the back room of the house and stood before the machine. It wasn’t very big, not like the advertisements for it when it was new. They showed a massive gunmetal grey doorway leading into a totally new world. When the machine actually came in the mail, she was disappointed by its shoebox size black plastic box. It sat atop a metal desk, a chair in front. The box was only the brains of the machine, draped on the chair was the interface.
A grey body suit, the interface reads physical action and interprets it into the virtual world. It also takes virtual stimuli and interprets them into the real world. If you are hungry in the virtual world, you feel hungry. If you reach out in the real world, you reach out in the virtual world. What makes it all work is the neural interface- a visor with interacts with your eyes and brain to produce the illusion behind the virtual world.
Darla slipped on the suit and turned on the machine. The low hum of cooling fans filled the small room and she caught a whiff of warm ozone. Her whole body tingled for a moment as she plugged the suit into the machine. As she slipped on the visor, everything went dark. When she reached out, the darkness gradually became lighter.
A stage appeared in front of her, backlit red then green then blue then red again. Fading in was a semi-transparent square, shoulder high. Darla was standing in the back of the room and at the same time was standing directly in front of the square. It split into bars and writing appeared- a menu.
Darla reached out and pressed the bar marked “Configure” and then “Single Log-In” and finally “Begin”. For a moment, it seemed as if nothing would happen, but then her vision went dark again and fading in was a top-down view of the world with brightly lit circles, different colors for different languages spoken, she reached out and pressed the circle roughly where the city of Chicago should be.
In a blur, she found herself standing in the south-bound lanes of a freeway through downtown Chicago. There was no traffic since no one was around to drive, but there were individuals around to interact with. In fact, before her were several milling “people”. She reached out in their direction and bubbles appeared over their heads with away messages emblazoned inside.
She walked for miles down the road. She stopped to rest and a server helper shaped like an anime style Japanese student said to her, “Sorry, my user is not logged in. I am programmed with only a minor set of instructions, but perhaps I can help anyway?”
Darla asked it, “Are there any other users logged in?”
The anime was silent for a moment, thinking, and then cheerfully proclaimed, “There are no other registered users currently logged in on the Chicago server. Globally, including yourself, there are two users online. The most ever online was eight million, two hundred thousand-“
Darla interrupted it, “What was that? How many online?”
The anime said, “There are a total of two users online globally.”
“Where? What server?”
“Please refine query.”
“Um…what server is the other registered user on?”
“I do not understand what you are asking. Perhaps you’d like to contact the help desk?”
Darla could feel her body start to sweat. “No. What servers are currently in use?”
“The Chicago and Wilderness 17 servers are currently in use.”
Darla made a gesture and Chicago disappeared, bringing back the top-down view of the world. She reached out to the Wilderness Server #17 and the blackness around her sprouted trees and she found herself atop a rock formation.
To no one, she asked, “Where am I?”
Behind her, a male voice answered, “Devil’s Tower.”
She spun around to face the voice and her vision went black. Flailing around in the dark, she gradually lost feeling in her limbs and found it too difficult to move. The darkness gave way to light, a blurred image that as it cleared up was the face of her husband, Roger. His mouth was moving, but no words were coming out.
“I found someone.” she said; her voice hollow in her ears. A hissing sound seemed to come from no where and then fade as quickly as it came.
Roger said, “You didn’t set the timer.”
“No, I didn’t.” she stated flatly.
“Why didn’t you? You promised you would.”
“I don’t know why, but I’m glad I didn’t.”
“You could have lobotomized yourself!”
“Don’t exaggerate. I found a person who’s not a bot.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.” she groggily stood up from the chair she didn’t remember sitting down on. “A Helper told me there were a total of two users online and I found him on Wilderness Server 17…at Devil’s Tower.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me where I was and then you hit the emergency abort and pulled me out.”
“I’m sorry…I probably should have checked in before I did that, but I was worried about how long you were in already. I was worried.”
“I know.” She grabbed his hand, “Thanks for caring.”
She let it go and started taking off the gray body suit.
Roger turned and said, “I’ll make drinks.”

Talk

Roger leaned forward on a brown couch and rested his elbows on his knees, his hands together, cradling his drink. Darla was opposite him, leaning back in a matching overstuffed chair. He swished his drink around and said, “The Council is sending out scouting parties to find food supplies.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Six months or so.”
“And you’re leading one of the parties?”
“Well, it was my idea. I’ll only be gone for a few days.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“I have a map of the area with the routes marked out; you can take a look if you’re interested. My group is going north a few kilometers then turning west and making a big circle back home. Dan’s group is heading to what was a rather sizable town. I’d like to tag along with him, but my guys are depending on me. Dan knows what he’s doing more than I do.”
“What should I do while you’re gone?”
“You can do the outdoor chores if you want, but they can wait for when I get back.”
“I want to search for the man on the machine.”
“There’s nothing I can do to stop you,” Roger said sighing, “But, please please set the timer. It’s not healthy to spend so long jacked in.”
Darla rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, Roger, I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not claiming otherwise. I’m just worried is all. How do you know it’s really a person and not a well written bot?”
“I don’t, but I want to find out.”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“What now?”
“You don’t have to get snappy. I was just going to ask that you have someone watch over you when you search, just in case.”
“Alright, I’ll get someone.”

Trap

Roger left early in the morning, before sunup. After Darla had breakfast, she called her neighbor, Cathy, and asked her to come over just in case anything went wrong.
“It’s so silly,” Darla said, “But Roger made me promise. Besides, it’s not a bad idea.”
“Well,” responded Cathy, “I don’t know much about those machines. I never used one before.”
“It’s simple, read this monitor,” she pointed to a small LCD monitor inlaid in the machine’s case, “and if the readings start blinking red, press the button on the top of the machine and it’ll break the connection. OK?”
“And what do I do while you’re in there and it’s not blinking?”
“Do whatever. Make yourself at home. I’ll owe you big time if you do this for me.”
“Ok, I’ll do it.”
Darla plugged herself in and selected the Wilderness Server #17.
Her vision went black and sprouted trees, like before, but she found herself standing at the foot of Devil’s Tower, staring up at it. The Indians said that a giant bear scratched the groves in the sides of the rock, and Darla was standing on one of the bits gouged out, a massive boulder. Boulders surrounded her and went all around the Tower. She reached out and mimed grabbing the tip of the rock and pulling herself up and hooked her leg up onto the flat top of the Tower.
She pulled herself up and panted at the effort. Straightening herself up, she looked around and the man was no longer here.
“Hello?” she shouted, “Hello!”
“You don’t need to shout, I’m right behind you.”
She spun around and lost her balance, the man steadied her.
He said, “I didn’t expect you to take so long coming back. You left in a hurry last time.”
“My husband hit the panic button.”
“Ah, that happens.” The man looked out at the forest and plains below, turning away from Darla. “What’s your handle?”
“Huh?”
“Your nickname, alias, soubriquet…what’s your name?”
“Darla.”
“I’m Paul.”
“Where are you?”
Paul turned back to Darla, “I’m right here. Just a joke. I’m not sure where I am. The government put us in these towns, I assume you’re in one too, and the Council won’t tell us.”
“Do you know what’s happened to the rest of the world?”
“Aliens.”
“What do you mean ‘aliens’?”
“Illegal aliens from outer space. They swooped down and killed everyone. The Council told us that at least. They heard it on the radio before they all went dead.”
“Then they left?”
“Naw, I doubt it. Why leave? This is a great planet. It’s green and lush and has all that water. The atmosphere isn’t nearly as bad as it is back home. Humans haven’t the technology to really mess things up. Make an ice age, sure, but nothing serious. Back home, the air makes your skin bleed.”
“What are you talking about? ‘Back home’? You said you were in another town.”
“I was just joshing you. I’m one of those aliens I mentioned. And aren’t you a find? They said I was wasting my time looking on these old computer servers.”
Darla backed away, but Paul grabbed her. His two arms became four and the second set clasped her forehead. A sharp pain shot through her skull.
“Oh, this is interesting…isn’t it?” Paul giggled, “Looks like you’re almost out of food and looking for more. Perfect, your hubby is with one of the search parties. We’ll have fun killing him.”
Paul’s face firmed up in a grimace. He said, “This is quite excellent. Let’s retire to some proper environs.”
The top of Devil’s Tower disappeared and Darla found herself strapped down in a dentist’s chair. A swiveling table top with the California Raisin dolls super glued to it was in front of her. Paul appeared above her with a doctor’s mask and protective goggles on.
“Hmmmmmmmm,” he said, “Let’s get started, shall we?”
She tried to answer, but found that her mouth was numb and she couldn’t talk. Paul turned on the overhead light, blinding her. She heard metal scraping metal; he was searching for the tool he wanted. He giggled and she decided that he had found what he wanted.
She felt the blood draining from her face when she heard the high pitched buzz of a dentist’s drill. Shadows moved, obscured by the strong light. One of Paul’s hands tapped her forehead, like someone does a melon.
“What I’m doing, Darla, is not torture. In fact, you won’t remember this at all. What I am doing is putting you to work for us.”
Paul took a marker and made a dot in the middle of her forehead. Darla heard the drill and tried to move, but she couldn’t. He moved the light slightly to the side and brought the drill down onto her forehead. She heard it going, grinding against her skull, but she felt no pain.
Paul spoke after the drill stopped, “What I’m doing is making my way through the protection built into your machine and interface. This scene, this environment, is just an illustration. I searched your mind for what you fear most and it seems that what you fear most is the dentist. When I first started my job, I found that mostly men feared the dentist, women feared more serious things. You are very interesting, Darla.”
Darla heard the clank as Paul set the drill down.
“What I’m doing now is introducing a computer virus into your brain. Since the human brain stores information basically the same way as a computer, it works quite well. What it will do is ‘reprogram’, I use the term figuratively, you into our servant. You will aid us in subjugating the pocket of resistance you live in.”
Darla tried to scream and struggle. She had to stop this.
“Now, Darla, don’t try to struggle. Resistance is useless.
Paul had in his hand an eyedropper and he hovered it over the drill hole he made and squeezed all of the liquid out. Darla felt cold in her skull.
Back in reality, she pulled off her interface visor and scanned the room; Cathy was sleeping on a folding chair. She hadn’t even noticed the emergency beeping of the machine as Darla was panicking.
Darla stood and walked over to her, shaking Cathy awake.
“Cathy! Cathy, wake up!” she said.
Cathy bolted upright in the chair, “Oh, God. I’m so sorry I fell asleep. Are you ok? Did I mess up?”
Darla smiled, “You did fine. I want to show you something in the machine. I have an extra visor under the table. You’ll love it.”
Darla fished the extra out from under the table and after trying in vain to blow off the dust, she handed it to Cathy and plugged it in.
“I don’t know…” said Cathy.
“Come on, just do it. You won’t regret it.”
“I’ve never used one before. What do I do?”
“Just put it on your head and the machine does the rest.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“You’ll join us and become one of us.”
“What?”
In a flash, Darla knocked Cathy down and tried to push the visor onto her head, Cathy pushed it away as hard as she could, but was losing. She kicked at Darla all she could, but Darla ignored it all, focused on the visor. Finally, Darla let up a bit and kneed Cathy in the stomach, giving her the upper hand and slipped the visor onto her head.

End time

Roger crept through the forest, his rifle at the ready. His group was spaced out around him, keeping alert.
He whispered to the man next to him, “How far until where the signal originated?”
The man looked at a small computer display and whispered back, “Eight hundred meters.”
Many hours before, they had received a distress signal from the scouting party led by his friend on the council, Dan. The message said that they were under attack and needed help.
After a few minutes of creeping, the man quietly said, “Here we are.”
At their feet, covered in leaves was a body, scorched to the bone with fire, but definitely fresh. As they moved it, the sickly sweet smell of burnt flesh rose touched their senses.
Roger stood and motioned to his group saying, “We’re heading home.”
As they cleared the woods surrounding their small town, an unknown ship zoomed overhead and landed several hundred meters in front of them. Strange creatures exited it. Several more ships rose up from the town.
They group was disarmed and taken to the town center. Everyone was there, lined up. A distinctly alien voice was speaking in some strange language over a loud speaker. Then, a very familiar voice was translating it into English. Roger looked hard and recognized his neighbor’s wife, Cathy. Beside her was his own wife, Darla, both wearing uniforms identical to the ones worn by the aliens.
Cathy spoke into a loud speaker, “You belong to The Masters. Some of you will be chosen, as we have, to become overseers. The rest will work. You are slaves of The Masters. Humanity belongs to the Masters. Resistance is useless.”
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Two short exercises

Here are two short exercises from class.

The first is a description. Describe an object, a mood, an idea, an emotion or a combination. You can't directly state it.
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The car was a 1996 blue-green Dodge Neon. It was my first real car, my only favorite car. I cannot conceive of any car taking its place, despite its apparent crappyness. I got it when I was 18, after a disastrous experiment with a Chevy Nova. She was perfect for a whole year. One day, her speedometer went dead. It wouldn’t go back on, so I hit it and it worked. I soon discovered that violence was the only language she understood. She leaves me without a measurement of speed, I hit her, and she straightens out.
She leaves me out in the cold when she doesn’t start and I whack her starter around with a lug wrench and she gets the idea and starts up and purrs like a kitten. Same with the fuel pump. She decides to stop working and I give her a good kick or a whack with the lug wrench in her fuel tank and she gets the message. It seems like she likes it.
But, she breaks. When I’m driving in the rain, the wiper arm comes loose and hangs from the car like some grotesquely broken limp. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you cry. Let me take this socket wrench and make it all better. Why do you make me do this to you?
Then she goes and pulls the same stuff again, her radio stops working, so I need to hit her, to make her understand that she needs to be more reliable. It’s a mutually abusive relationship, I guarantee you. She stops shifting gears and it’s 25mph all the way home, that’s more physical punishment than I could ever dish out.
But, she coughed up so much car blood out of the tail pipe and wouldn’t pass emissions. Why did she make me get rid of her? I should have done more. I should have tried harder. Why did she leave me, why did I leave her?

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The second is a dialogue in which two characters each have something to hide. Neither can openly state what it is.

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Jim tried to close the door as quietly as he could. The lock clicked a little too loud. He turned around and standing before him was his roommate, Bob.
Jim sighed, “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”
“Jesus, Jim. You look like hell,” Said Bob concernedly, “Is that broken?” Bob pointed to Jim’s nose.
“Yeah, probably. I ran into a wall.” Jim said, tentatively probing the bridge of his nose. He grabbed it and it made a crackling sound. “Ah, shit,” he sighed.
“A wall, huh?” Bob turned and walked away slowly. “Wait,” he turned, “Were you in or out of my car?”
Jim grimaced as he continued to probe his nose with is right hand. He raised his unused arm and hissed. “I’m going to go sit down.”
Bob tried to usher him onto a chair in the living room, but Jim kept walking from the door to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Naw, I’m going to lay down and get some sleep.” Said Jim.
Bob quickly moved to block Jim’s movement. “No, you can’t do that!”
Jim raised his eyebrow as far as his swollen face would allow.
Bob spoke quickly, “I saw on TV that if you have a head injury, you shouldn’t lie flat or sleep. Why don’t you sit here in the living room? Maybe watch some TV?”
“That’s bullshit. No, I’m tired and I want to sleep.” Jim was resolute.
“Well, why don’t you sit for a while and I’ll make up your bed. It’s wash day, after all.”
“No, it isn’t. Saturday is wash day. What did you do that I can’t go in my room?”
“Oh, ha ha, nothing. I just washed your sheets and they’re downstairs in the dryer. I just put them in before you got home.”
Jim sighed, “So, I’ll use another pair.” He tried to walk past Bob, but an arm stopped him, spanning across his chest. Bob’s sleeve moved up and Jim saw that he had been bleeding.
“Bob,” Jim spoke, “Your arm looks like my face. What happened? Is that a bite mark?”
Bob drew his arm back and lowered his sleeve and buttoned the cuff. “I…um…cut it on the wall downstairs doing laundry, you know how the landlord was building a wall and all those nails are sticking out. I slipped and grabbed out for it, cut myself. Does it look like a bite? I never noticed.” Bob walked half the distance to the hallway. “Um,” he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, “So, where’d you park my car? I’ll need to know for the morning.”
Jim waved in general out the window, “Just in front of the building.”
“Jim,” said Bob, “there’s no parking there, I’ll get towed.”
“No, no. Don’t worry, it’s just down the road where it says ‘parking’.”
“That’s for another building, you’d better move it. Where are the keys?”
“I dropped them on the table by the door.”
“No you didn’t. I saw you come in.”
“Huh. I must have missed. If nothing else, in the morning you can use your spare set. And I’ll find the keys tomorrow when I get up. Assuming, you’ll let me past.” Jim walked toward Bob and tried to sidestep him. Bob placed himself in Jim’s way. “Dammit, let me by. What the?” Jim looked beyond Bob and saw a woman’s clothes. “Oh, I see. You don’t have a girlfriend and you couldn’t have gone anywhere since I had your car… You hired a hooker and did her in my bedroom, you sick fuck!”
Jim pushed Bob out of the way, stormed to his bedroom door and hammered on it with his good hand, “Hey, lady. You can try to hide, but I’m coming in and you’re getting the fuck out!” He turned the doorknob and slammed the door open, driving the inside doorknob into the wall, holding the door in place.
There was no one in the room. Jim turned to Bob, “Where is she hiding? She didn’t leave since her clothes are still here. Why does my room smell like bleach? What did you two do in my fucking room while I was out?”
Bob sighed, “Go get the car and I’ll explain.”
“It’s down the street! Explain now and maybe I’ll get it.”
“Fine.” Bob breathed in deeply, held it, let it out. “I hired a hooker. We did it in your bedroom and she left.”
“Why are her clothes still here?” Jim pointed into his bedroom, “And why is my katana missing?”
“Get the car,” said Bob, “We need it.”
“I can’t. I was going to call the cops about it.”
“The cops? We don’t need any cops. Whatever it is, we can handle it. Look at this, we’re handling it fine.”
Jim stared at Bob and screamed, “We’re handling it? What are we handling? All I see is a hooker’s clothes, a freshly cleaned room and a big garbage bag full of what I assume to me all the missing stuff from my room.”
“Just get the car.” Bob sighed.
“I can’t!” shouted Jim.
“Why can’t you get it?”
“Because I had to leave it. When I hit the wall, I lost the keys.”
“When you were running and ran into the wall?”
“Sure.”
“Where’s my car? Seriously. We need it.”
Jim looked up at the ceiling, “It’s, um…over on Main Street. We’re going to need tow truck. What’s in the bag?”
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Can you guess what the secrets are? bob killed a hooker and jim trashed bob's car

Updates should become more common

I'm taking a creative writing class at the university to fulfill a general education requirement and I'll be posting my class work here both as a way to share it with the class (who will hopefully offer constructive comments) and to share with everyone who wants to read it.

I'll probably post the first assignment tomorrow or saturday.

Holy Shit! An Update!

Someone told me they liked the "Rebel Earth" whatsit, so I rewrote it a bit. Maybe it's less cheesy, maybe more so. Who knows? I don't.

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The following is a communiqué from Edward Gamdana, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Earth Republic, to the Imperial Senate.

We, the people of a free and independent Earth do address the Senate of the Palmyran Empire:
The government of the Empire has a long history of racism and bigotry which has culminated into genocidal policies of hatred and murder during the late plagues. It has forgotten its guiding ideals laid out in the Declaration of Principles of 2099. It has, during the late plagues most egregiously forgotten its own origins on this pristine planet. It seems only just that we, the Free Peoples of Earth do declare our intent to establish a free and independent world. One not guided by a lust for power and expansion, but by compassion for our fellows and a true belief in the Guiding Principles.
As you, the elected officials of the Empire, read this message, a negotiating party is en route to Palmyra. We hope and pray to the Almightys that you will see our intentions to be peaceful and agree to a negotiated understanding.

************************************************************************

Young Petr sat quietly next to his father. All around him, men and women were shouting at each other. The morning’s paper explained what it all the fuss was about. Earth had declared itself independent of the Empire; parts of Earth, anyway.
“If Africa and Eurasia have declared themselves independent,” a corpulent man on the floor of the assembly building shouted, “that’s fine! Let them have enough rope to hang themselves by!” His words were met with applause and cheers from his supporters behind him, and with catcalls and hisses from his opponents.
The newspaper also spoke of this event, which would be televised around the continent. “A meeting of the continental assembly, to decide issues of independence and war”, the paper had said. From what Petr could see, there was not much decision making, rather the two sides were close to physical violence.
The fat man continued, “One planet cannot possibly win even a compromise peace against the Empire. It has a fleet and millions of soldiers. They will rain death from space and then send overwhelming numbers down to mop us up. We cannot win, therefore we should stay out of it.”
On the opposite side of the room, a voice arose over the din of applause. Petr couldn’t see who was speaking, but he was impressed by the words. “Ladies, Gentlemen and Sentients. The words my esteemed opponent spoke have truth within them. However, he only shows you the parts he wants you to see.”
The words were met by boos and hissing from the opposite side.
“You may batter me all you wish with insults and drag my name through the mud, but it doesn’t change the facts. Yes, one planet cannot defeat an Empire. Yes, they have a massive fleet and millions of soldiers. Yes, they can level our cities from orbit. But, they won’t. The moment they kill a single civilian, the galactic press will spread the word. By the time it reaches Alpha Centauri, it’ll be fifty. New Ireland, it’ll be a public school leveled and two hundred children dead. By the time it reaches the core worlds and Palmyra itself, it’ll have been turned into a massacre of epic proportions.
“The public opinion of the galaxy is in our favor. The Palmyrans can’t afford to misuse their firepower or superiority in strength. That is their weakness. They will never bring overwhelming force to bear against us, because that would result in an ideological victory for us. They will bring as little force as possible.
“We meet them on an equal battlefield and we beat them on an equal battlefield. This will bring more planets and systems in line with us. We use the Imperial populous against their government. They are the bad guys here and we will not allow them to deceive their people into thinking otherwise. We treat prisoners as honored guests; never kill unless we have to, allow the enemy to retreat un-harassed. We take the moral high-ground.
“We must join our brothers in Africa and Eurasia. If we don’t stand as one, we all burn. Do you really think that the Empire will treat one continent differently than the next? We are but a single world in their minds and so we must stand as a single world. Our sons and daughters may not die in battle, but they will still die from starvation, disease, and all such maladies associated with an overpopulated world under siege. If London, Paris, Cairo and Pretoria suffer, so will New York, Toronto, Mexico City and Los Angeles.”
“You cannot escape this immutable fact. All your angry words about loyalty and safety are asinine when compared with reality.”
The fat man stood up. “Nice speech, I see your point,” he said, “but who will lead us?”
Petr looked on in awe as his father stood. “Mr. Assemblyman, I will lead our forces into battle.” The boy looked up at his father, standing tall in his Sunday suit and imagined the leaders of old he learned about in school- Washington, Lee and Grant, Teddy Roosevelt, and two founders of the Empire, Eugene Bradford and Kenneth Slocum. He cringed at the last two, they may have been heroes in their time, but now they were the source of the oppression.
The rotund man looked up at Petr’s father and said, “Admiral Burnside, I did not believe you would come to this meeting, being a hero of the Empire.”
The bodiless voice spoke. “Admiral,” he spoke, “what my distinguished opponent wishes to express is his deepest admiration for your achievements, but he feels that you will turn us all over to the Empire.”
“I said nothing of the…” the fat man shouted back, but was cut off my Petr’s father.
“I served the Empire with my loyalty. However, the Empire has shown none back toward me or my world. Such a disgrace deserves to be punished.” Petr’s father sat back down to a standing ovation.
************************************************************************

Later that day, Petr’s father was pacing back and forth in the family living room, Petr sat quietly in an overstuffed chair, following his father with his eyes.
“Jesus,” his father sneered, “that was cheesy as all hell. ‘Who will lead us?’ ‘I will.’”, he spoke in sarcastic, mocking voices, “Fuck. What was I thinking?” He looked at his son, “What are they going to do to your brother? Jesus, I should have thought of that. Why couldn’t I have sat still and kept out of it. I should have.”
“Dad?” Petr spoke softly, almost a whisper.
His father didn’t hear him. “What the hell am I going to do? The moment I step into a uniform, my image will be sent all across the galaxy and they’ll know that I’m his father and they’ll arrest him, torture him, something. Christ, I’m in deep…”
“Dad!” Petr almost shouted.
His father came to a sudden halt and sharply turned toward his son. “Huh?”
“Dad, is it true that you’re an Admiral?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because that part of my life is over with and I would have preferred not to dwell in the past.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I was in Imperial service, my job was to fight battles. I’ve seen enough of them. I got tired of people dieing. Your mom dieing gave me the excuse I needed to leave.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I know you don’t, but you’re only 9, when you grow up, you’ll understand.”
“What was that about Wilhelm?”
“Don’t let it trouble you. Your brother will be fine; I’m just worrying for no reason.”

************************************************************************

Wilhelm stood as still as he possibly could. His back was straight, his arms perfectly folded in the small of his back and his eyes unblinkingly stared straight forward, through the green tents many meters away and into infinity. He fought the urge to blink. He knew that if he gave any reason, his instructor would use corporal punishment against him. Usually a swift swat to the back with his baton and then an impossible number of pushups so by the time he passed out from exertion, his muscles were black and blue and torn up.
“Wilson! Your back is not acceptably straight. I am not satisfied. How does that make you feel?” The instructor’s name was Master Johnson. Master was his rank in the Navy. “Master” is the same rank as Ensign, but was earned in battle and a Master cannot hold a command. Master Johnson was a tall man, taller than all his trainees, not a big man, but all muscle and no neck. He had worked his way up through the ranks of the Marines and earned his commission fighting off some alien invasion ten years ago. Since then, he has been sending recruits through basic training. He could sit back and let his NCOs to the work, but he liked doing it himself.
Wilson responded to the question, “Sir! It makes me want to improve! Sir!”
The reply was answered with a quick whack to the hip. “Then get your back straight!” Master Johnson shouted directly into Wilson’s ear.
The Master walked toward Wilhelm with a menace in his eyes. He stopped in front of Wilhelm, pivoted on the balls of his feet and came face to face with him. Master Johnson was a good head taller than Wilhelm, so he lowered himself down to brow lever before shouting. “Burnside! The hell you doing to my trainee company? Every time I come past you, your posture is perfect, your arms are perfectly in the small of your back, and your eyes are always looking right through my chest. You’re making everyone else look like morons. They say that retards take well to instruction. Are you a retard, Burnside?”
“No, Sir!” Wilhelm yelled back.
“I’m sure you’re so perfect because you think I’ll be impressed by your performance. Well, as usual, I’m not. I want you to do…eight hundred pushups. And since you’re so used to them: this,” Master Johnson raised his baton and struck Wilhelm’s right arm, above the elbow, then the left at the same place, “ should make it harder. Good luck, the rest of us are going to go eat. On your face!”
Wilhelm dropped to his knees, the baton strikes had left his arms numb and weak. He hadn’t gotten to five before the rest of the company filed into the mess tent for breakfast.

Teh Paxxorz Roxxorz

Dropping through the tunnel, I discovered I could control my descent by the mere thought of cheesecake. In my mind, I pictured a graham cracker crust and silky filling and I jerked to a stop. I thought of a fork full of cheesecake and I started falling at a slow speed. Four fork fulls and I slowed. I pictured an empty pan and I dropped like a ton of bricks. I then thought of the ingredients, but I couldn't remember what goes in it aside from cream cheese. I remembered too late. The ground was very hard. My shins bones are sticking out of my legs and the blood is spurting out. The rabbit just left me. It seems that he's late for a very important date. He hated to run, hello goodbye, he's late he's late he's late.

Update, but you won't like it.

I find that I have an intense dislike for everything I write. As a result, I have very little will to write anything.

For the one person who reads this, I have fulfilled your request.

-----------------

It was raining and lightning creased the sky. A man ran across the brick courtyard and pulled open a set of double doors and entered. A fire burned next to him and as he brushed water from his coat, steam arose.
He was in a great hall. The walls were painted white, appeared yellow from the fires burning in the occasional fireplace. Wires to electric lights had been bolted onto the brick and plaster walls and ceiling, but the lights remained off, even on a dark night. The fires created enough light.
The man stood at one end of the room. Ahead of him was a vast carpet and on either side was a group of chairs and couches, which were empty. At the far end of the room, was another set of couches, these were dark leather. There were three men seated in them. He looked over to them expectedly and spoke, “I was summoned.”
A corpulent man with a deeply receded widows peak motioned for him to cross the room and sit. As the man walked, his footsteps echoed sharply on the floor, and then hollowly on the carpet.
The leather couches were arranged in a C shape, with a large coffee table between them. Two men sat on the top of the C, and one on the side. They viewed this man crossing the room with interest for his reputation preceded him. He was a hunter, and a famous one at that.
The hunter walked into the C, nodded at each of the seated men individually and sat at the far end of the bottom couch. His wet leather duster made an uncomfortable squeak as he did so. He quickly observed the three men. The one who motioned was a large man with broken veins in his nose. He had a briefcase on the table, opened. Next to him was a man in cardinal red. He had a golden crucifix on his chest, his hands folded in his lap. He was a old man, in his late 70s. You could see the contours of his facial bones through his tight and tanned skin. The third man, who sat on the side of the C, by himself, was much younger, in his 30s maybe. He wore his jet black hair slicked back. He too had a briefcase, but it was upright next to him on the floor.
The large man spoke, his voice was proper British, “You know the Cardinal, but you haven’t met myself or this gentleman yet.” He motioned toward the younger man. “I am the new envoy between his holiness and his hunters and this is Mr. Harris, he is a representative of the US government.”
“It is a pleasure Sir,” he nodded at the envoy, “Sir,” he nodded at Mr. Harris, “Cardinal.” He nodded to the Cardinal and smiled.
The Cardinal smiled back and said, “How are you, young man? It has been a long time.”
“Yes, sir, it has. Allow me to say that you look very well after your surgery.”
“Thank you.” The Cardinal nodded.
“*ahem* If we can move past the formalities?” the envoy asked.
“Of course,” Said the Cardinal.
The envoy looked at the hunter and said, “Agent 92, what is the countersign? Vatican.”
“Kilimanjaro,” Was the reply.

From the open briefcase came a manila folder closed by a butterfly clamp. The envoy handed it to the hunter.

Without waiting for it to be opened, the envoy spoke. “Your mission is one of extreme importance. Two nights from now, at approximately 21:00 hours, the leader or “Duke” of the dominant clan in the Midwest will be in Chicago, attending a meeting with the heads of other clans. This meeting is secret and impromptu. Security is expected to be very light, some might say laughable.
“We have selected a building for you to shoot from, which we understand is out of the ordinary, but we have good reason for it. You are free to select your weapon, but we must stress that accuracy is essential; there may not be many guards, but a half-dozen vampires can easily overwhelm even the most skilled hunter.
“The target will leave his transportation and enter a large entryway in an office complex. When he enters, you will strike with precision, through the windows of the building, killing the Duke from behind. You will then proceed to extraction via the pre-designated route illustrated in the folder. Your pay will be standard fare, plus bonuses for any other vampire kills. Human casualties will not be acceptable under and circumstances. Do you understand? Good. All needed information is in the brief. Do you have any questions?”
“You seem to be in quite a hurry. Your predecessor was more of a chatter and would usually offer me coffee,” said the Hunter.
The envoy blinked, then blinked again. “You see we are in a bit of a hurry, as you might be able to grasp. Mr. Harris, of your state department, will provide you with papers certifying you as a diplomatic aide to the Vatican’s ambassador, with full immunity attached. Most American police think that it means they can’t arrest you, to your obvious advantage.”
Mr. Harris lifted his briefcase to his lap and opened it; he removed an envelope and slid it across the table. The hunter picked it up and slid it under the butterfly clamp on the folder.
“Is there anything else,” asked the hunter, “or am I dismissed?”
Mr. Harris said, “In exchange for these documents, I am requiring you to take along one of my agents. He is very experienced and I’m sure he will prove at be a valuable asset.”
“What, like to get me coffee?” sneered the hunter.
“I take offense at that,” said Mr. Harris, “my agents are very highly trained.”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t dispute that. But, I don’t hunt terrorists or drug dealers. Your men are trained to kill humans and I hunt non-humans. A few years back, the Germans offered to help me. They sent a GSG9 squad to help me. They made a great distraction as the vampire tore them to pieces.”
“That was very hard to explain away, if I do remember,” said the Cardinal with a smile, “we couldn’t find a suitable explanation for the closed caskets.”
“Mr. Harris, I will not take your man with me. He will only get in the way.” The Hunter said.
“No,” the envoy spoke sternly, “this is the price of their cooperation. You will take their agent with you and be sure that he makes it back not too worse for the wear.”
The Hunter snorted and walked across the room, hollow echoes sounded off the rug.

Page 18 of his instructions told him where to meet this agent. Pages 1-17 detailed background and mission plans. He read these on a Lufthansa commuter flight to New York.
He was authorized to bring 3 complete changes of clothes, 35 pounds of personal baggage, not including weapons and he was to draw up a list of what weapons and material he would need for the mission.
His target was one Charles, no last name. He was the titular head of the Counsel of Clans, a group that claimed the right to decide all matters pertaining to vampires in the United States. In Europe, clans do not attempt such governance and instead stay in a state of war with each other and clan hierarchy is determined by strength of blood. Ostensibly, the same goes in the American extensions of the clans, but the Counsel has more say over clan leadership than blood.
Charles is the “Blood Duke” of the Judas Clan. Research leads the Vatican to believe that they claim the Disciple Judas Iscariot as their origin following the Greek legend that Judas did not hang himself, but rather was made into a vampire.
Charles made his throne the city of Chicago, instead of the more trendy New York or Los Angeles, to avoid unwanted attention.