And the point of this is to say I won't be on for a while longer. Working on a project separate from this. For those of you that know what an ARG is, I'm planning on making one, some murder mystery/serial killer/psycho/possibly paranormal thing. So yeah. It'll happen. But I want to get it all done at once, so its not a release a new clue everyonce in a while thing, I want it all live, all linked, and all at once. Which means that once I get it done, you can either figure it out all at once if you work hellishly hard for a while, or if you take a more leisurely pace, I want it to take about two weeks of a couple hours per day to finish. But I am going to work into it timed drops for info, meaning that according to when you try to access stuff it may or may not be available... but that'll all figure in later. Anyways, I would love help from anyone who wants to help - Melissa, if you're reading this, you should poke Kurt and tell him to think about this. Because I'm sure he would have interesting ideas.
And one last thing, it would be in the past. I'mma be making up a full town/city for this, so that we can have library sites with old reels and all of that sorta stuff. I just wanna get a sense of time in it, although that'll be difficult given that if anyone digs into a page source they'll find out how truly recent it is... Which is a dead giveaway. Thats actually how I find out if I'm on the right track with the ARG's I play... Anyways, thats all!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
What what? Another non story blog post?
PSYCH!!!!
Welcome to seg 2.3. Now that I've got you trapped reading this, you'll be stuck for forever! Or at least until you go up to the right hand side of the screen and press that little x. But that wouldn't be very nice at all. So continue reading!
Kuna was walking around Chelsea park on her lunch break. It was definitely a perk of working in the office just across the street, an old parking garage refurbished by CrossTechD into an outbranch.
"New York may be a bit crowded, but at least I get to walk around in some green on my breaks." Kuna thought to herself as she took another nibble at her sandwich wrap. Her handset buzzed in her heavy overcoat which she always wore, still not used to cold New York winter. It was accompanied by a chime from her earpiece.
"Second division, PA team, Josh Dershwin calling"
"Answer" She muttered, the earpiece she wore picking up her answer and connecting the call. Kuna had hoped not to be disturbed while on her break, but unfortunately her team wasn't the smartest. She often wondered how they managed to last through enough schooling to get the little pieces of paper to say they were smart, when they obviously couldn't handle much on their own at all. "Kuna here. What is it?"
"Kuna! CSD0002 is in the 'scape. We think he may have seen the user activity. I tried wiping the records as fast as I could, but from his emotional state records it seems he may have seen Peter's name. Is this going to destroy our work? How do we set this straight? Kuna -"
"Shut up!" Kuna interrupted Josh. "He's in the 'scapes. We can just add a bit more memory and have it overlap his earlier ones. It's nothing to get all worked up about."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Kuna could hear Josh breathing heavily as he thought about it for a while. Faking memories could be difficult, but it could be done. Further, they didn't even need to really make up a new memory, just fudge the old one up a little. Get rid of one line of code, that's all. Easy as that.
"Now if they could only manage to do something like that..." Kuna thought to herself before continuing. "Or is that too hard for you to do Josh? I'm sure that Pearson could easily find me someone who could. Someone with a little more... initiative. And skill. Unless you happen to like your job..." Kuna let the pause hang in the air. The breathing on the other end of the line quieted down suddenly with a small gasp.
"Yes Kuna. I'm sorry. I'm on it now." Josh answered, his voice subdued.
"It's all right Josh. Just get to it. Also, I'm Ms. Mardar. Can't be too friendly now can we? I'm your boss. Forget about sharing a class in college." And with that Kuna ended the call.
She shook her head. These people, Josh in particular, were supposed to be smart. She had gone to school with a couple of them. Their living was the study of the mind and body, the connections between the two, how impressions made on the mind could affect the body, all of that. It wasn't supposed to be an easy line of work. Yet they could never seem to rise to the occasion. Always calling to make sure they're doing right, or to ask for help when they can't figure something out quickly. Still, it was the team that Pearson had given her to work with, and she would either whip them into shape, or they would get fired. As easy as that.
"Pearson, the Youth is being brought up to you now. Is there anything more?"
The intercom buzzed at Pearson as he sat in his office.
"No, that should be fine. Thank you" Pearson replied. He sat forward, the antique leather chair creaking as he put his elbows on his desk. Looking down, he studied the knots in the wood on his desk, the fine lines swirling together, drawn by some force, focusing in onto a point. That pull, that irresistible pull from something beyond our power to stop, caught up in forces beyond our understanding or comprehension... Our lives, constantly shifting, flowing, pulling together and pulling apart.
"It feels like watching my life being drawn out, trying to follow a straight line, but bouncing from one dilemma to another." Pearson sat up, shaking his head "Funny that. Growing nostalgic. I wonder if this happened to the Old Man or any of the others."
But Pearson would need to ponder that later. Here was the Youth, ready to be questioned, tested, discussed, to see if he could take Pearson's place some day. At least, that was the original intent according to the Old Man's plan, but Pearson had an ace up his sleeve, one that was supposedly coming along well.
There was a knock at the office door just before they opened, and in walked Trenton, escorting the Youth.
"Welcome!" Pearson rose from his desk, walking around with his hand extended to the Youth. "How are you? You look much older from our last visit, my boy. Tell me how everything has been coming along with your education!"
The Youth shook his hand, a grin exploding across his face. He looked much like a younger Pearson would, light gray-blue eyes that could alternately sparkle like running water, full of light and life, or look as flat and menacing as the ocean waves that could, and would, take the lives of many. Blonde hair drifted across those eyes though, unkempt and tossed from the ride over from the house that Pearson had provided for the Youth. The only major difference between the Youth and Pearson was height; Whereas Pearson was a tall, dignified version of the Youth, the Youth had yet to catch his height.
---------------------------------------------------------------
So guys there is more, but I'm going outside now. Also, ccceeellleeebrate!!! My pc is working! (ish. It has to sit in a certain spot in the middle of my room with the cord attached a certain way, but hey, I'm online and writing again! Woot!)
Welcome to seg 2.3. Now that I've got you trapped reading this, you'll be stuck for forever! Or at least until you go up to the right hand side of the screen and press that little x. But that wouldn't be very nice at all. So continue reading!
Kuna was walking around Chelsea park on her lunch break. It was definitely a perk of working in the office just across the street, an old parking garage refurbished by CrossTechD into an outbranch.
"New York may be a bit crowded, but at least I get to walk around in some green on my breaks." Kuna thought to herself as she took another nibble at her sandwich wrap. Her handset buzzed in her heavy overcoat which she always wore, still not used to cold New York winter. It was accompanied by a chime from her earpiece.
"Second division, PA team, Josh Dershwin calling"
"Answer" She muttered, the earpiece she wore picking up her answer and connecting the call. Kuna had hoped not to be disturbed while on her break, but unfortunately her team wasn't the smartest. She often wondered how they managed to last through enough schooling to get the little pieces of paper to say they were smart, when they obviously couldn't handle much on their own at all. "Kuna here. What is it?"
"Kuna! CSD0002 is in the 'scape. We think he may have seen the user activity. I tried wiping the records as fast as I could, but from his emotional state records it seems he may have seen Peter's name. Is this going to destroy our work? How do we set this straight? Kuna -"
"Shut up!" Kuna interrupted Josh. "He's in the 'scapes. We can just add a bit more memory and have it overlap his earlier ones. It's nothing to get all worked up about."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Kuna could hear Josh breathing heavily as he thought about it for a while. Faking memories could be difficult, but it could be done. Further, they didn't even need to really make up a new memory, just fudge the old one up a little. Get rid of one line of code, that's all. Easy as that.
"Now if they could only manage to do something like that..." Kuna thought to herself before continuing. "Or is that too hard for you to do Josh? I'm sure that Pearson could easily find me someone who could. Someone with a little more... initiative. And skill. Unless you happen to like your job..." Kuna let the pause hang in the air. The breathing on the other end of the line quieted down suddenly with a small gasp.
"Yes Kuna. I'm sorry. I'm on it now." Josh answered, his voice subdued.
"It's all right Josh. Just get to it. Also, I'm Ms. Mardar. Can't be too friendly now can we? I'm your boss. Forget about sharing a class in college." And with that Kuna ended the call.
She shook her head. These people, Josh in particular, were supposed to be smart. She had gone to school with a couple of them. Their living was the study of the mind and body, the connections between the two, how impressions made on the mind could affect the body, all of that. It wasn't supposed to be an easy line of work. Yet they could never seem to rise to the occasion. Always calling to make sure they're doing right, or to ask for help when they can't figure something out quickly. Still, it was the team that Pearson had given her to work with, and she would either whip them into shape, or they would get fired. As easy as that.
"Pearson, the Youth is being brought up to you now. Is there anything more?"
The intercom buzzed at Pearson as he sat in his office.
"No, that should be fine. Thank you" Pearson replied. He sat forward, the antique leather chair creaking as he put his elbows on his desk. Looking down, he studied the knots in the wood on his desk, the fine lines swirling together, drawn by some force, focusing in onto a point. That pull, that irresistible pull from something beyond our power to stop, caught up in forces beyond our understanding or comprehension... Our lives, constantly shifting, flowing, pulling together and pulling apart.
"It feels like watching my life being drawn out, trying to follow a straight line, but bouncing from one dilemma to another." Pearson sat up, shaking his head "Funny that. Growing nostalgic. I wonder if this happened to the Old Man or any of the others."
But Pearson would need to ponder that later. Here was the Youth, ready to be questioned, tested, discussed, to see if he could take Pearson's place some day. At least, that was the original intent according to the Old Man's plan, but Pearson had an ace up his sleeve, one that was supposedly coming along well.
There was a knock at the office door just before they opened, and in walked Trenton, escorting the Youth.
"Welcome!" Pearson rose from his desk, walking around with his hand extended to the Youth. "How are you? You look much older from our last visit, my boy. Tell me how everything has been coming along with your education!"
The Youth shook his hand, a grin exploding across his face. He looked much like a younger Pearson would, light gray-blue eyes that could alternately sparkle like running water, full of light and life, or look as flat and menacing as the ocean waves that could, and would, take the lives of many. Blonde hair drifted across those eyes though, unkempt and tossed from the ride over from the house that Pearson had provided for the Youth. The only major difference between the Youth and Pearson was height; Whereas Pearson was a tall, dignified version of the Youth, the Youth had yet to catch his height.
---------------------------------------------------------------
So guys there is more, but I'm going outside now. Also, ccceeellleeebrate!!! My pc is working! (ish. It has to sit in a certain spot in the middle of my room with the cord attached a certain way, but hey, I'm online and writing again! Woot!)
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Reason here for why I've been gone....
My computer broke! yay!!! So uh, yeah. Short hiatus. I will be back people!
Monday, August 8, 2011
An actual blog entry as opposed to a story one
So as I said, I enjoy the somewhat longer titles that explain everything in them. It makes it easier for you all to get the point quickly, instead of twiddling (I so didn't know you spelled twiddling with two d's...) your thumbs whilst reading through a blog entry, wondering when on this green Earth will I get to the point.
Well, the point was made up at the top. In the title. So, if you don't enjoy that memo, you should probably skip out on the rest of it. Just sayin'.
Quick update for all those girls out there with older brothers. DO NOT, and I repeat, DO NOT, go into their room, and leave your plain lip gloss where they keep their chapstick. It is NOT NICE. Especially if they don't realize at first what it is (Assuming its just chapstick because that's where they keep theirs) and apply it. And then are shocked when their lips are much more... shiny. Not colored, just... shiny. So yeah. Please, for the sake of all those older brothers out there, don't? Pretty please?
I really want this book... The Book of Bunny Suicides. Pretty horrible funny stuff. I literally cried from the fact I was laughing so hard at fluffy creatures who have just decided they don't want to live anymore. Its truly painful to read, and it begs the question - who's more messed up, the person reading it and enjoying it, or the person who thought it all up and wrote it, and is now making money off of the other type. Well, I guess we know which one is smarter, but still.
And it's late, so I'm just going to end this here. Hope you go check out that link, its a hilarious book, and yes, I know, it does link to amazon, but hey. They have a better description of it than I do, plus, from there I'm pretty sure you can find pictures from in the book so you understand what I'm talking about.
Night guys!
Well, the point was made up at the top. In the title. So, if you don't enjoy that memo, you should probably skip out on the rest of it. Just sayin'.
Quick update for all those girls out there with older brothers. DO NOT, and I repeat, DO NOT, go into their room, and leave your plain lip gloss where they keep their chapstick. It is NOT NICE. Especially if they don't realize at first what it is (Assuming its just chapstick because that's where they keep theirs) and apply it. And then are shocked when their lips are much more... shiny. Not colored, just... shiny. So yeah. Please, for the sake of all those older brothers out there, don't? Pretty please?
I really want this book... The Book of Bunny Suicides. Pretty horrible funny stuff. I literally cried from the fact I was laughing so hard at fluffy creatures who have just decided they don't want to live anymore. Its truly painful to read, and it begs the question - who's more messed up, the person reading it and enjoying it, or the person who thought it all up and wrote it, and is now making money off of the other type. Well, I guess we know which one is smarter, but still.
And it's late, so I'm just going to end this here. Hope you go check out that link, its a hilarious book, and yes, I know, it does link to amazon, but hey. They have a better description of it than I do, plus, from there I'm pretty sure you can find pictures from in the book so you understand what I'm talking about.
Night guys!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Seg 2.2
Flashes of lights. Bolts of raw energy fly by my face as I run and dive into a higher clump of grain. A few more shots hit the dirt right beside me. I need to get out of where I'm at, find a way to escape them, but its all just grass, waist high. They would see it if I moved, but if I stay here...
A laser blast hits someone to the right of where I'm crouched trying to avoid being hit. The guy had stood up to get a quick shot off, but the enemy had been waiting. Half of his head was just gone, and what was left of it was charred beyond recognition. No time to scream, he had simply stood up, and that was the last thing for him. His lifeless corpse hit the ground with a soft thump, collapsing like a sack of potatoes.
If the lasers could burn straight through a human, battle gear and all, why the hell am I stuck using a projectile weapon? I quickly search the "memories" of my character. Apparently, humans didn't develop personal use laser weapons, even after several decades of space exploration in faster than light ships. Which is stupid, because now - I thought to myself - now I get to fight aliens, on an alien world, against laser weapons, with something that works on gunpowder and a piece of lead. Dumbest idea in the book.
Another bolt flashed through the grass, scorching the ground beside me. Even though it had burned the ground, it made my arm feel cold, as though the side that had been closer to the bolt had just been dumped into cold water. If this is what it felt like to just be missed by one, I couldn't imagine what being hit by one would feel like. Looking around, I can just make out a shack rising out of the grain. It's a little ways off, but I should make it there safe if I move slowly through the grass.
I start to shuffle towards the shack, keeping at a low crouch to make sure I stay beneath the waist high grass. Suddenly, an alien stumbles into the path I'm on towards the shack. Without thinking, my "training" kicks in. I swing my gun up from the resting position I was holding it in, and with a quick precision, I fire two rounds into it's skull, and then another round into it's chest as I roll to the side to avoid any returning fire.
There isn't any. I return to my low crouch from the prone position I had ended my roll in and move towards the alien body. It's helmet is broken, smashed in from the impact of the bullets, the ceremonial carved inlay providing stress lines along which it shattered. There's a thick liquid bubbling up from the shots to the chest, or at least what passes for a chest on these creatures. Their long curved bodies and spindly legs make it look almost like a cross between a snake and a spider, except the legs are all bundled together at the base of the body, and then you get your snakeish looking bends, and then a pair of hands, two on each side that can fold together to be one on each side, and the the helmet and the long hair that's always floating up as though they were swimming all the time. There's a kind of deadly beauty to them, a sort of flow to their body, each piece of armor and gear attached to their bodies without disrupting it, merely accentuating the remarkable smooth design of it all.
Marvelous work they've done with this one, I thought. Usually shooter 'scapes don't get such artistic or detailed enemies.
In the few seconds I spent studying the dead body, a flood of "memories" flushed in. The first discovery of these aliens, when our separate colonization efforts met on several worlds. Highly territorial, they didn't like us trying to use the same planets they thought they had claim too. However, peace was brokered on several of the first planets we encountered each other on. Sadly, it was short lived, as a rogue alien ran into a human colony on a new planet and slaughtered the colony. Their local planetary government wasn't going to hand him over to humans, and so push came to shove, and then from there it spread across all of the worlds we both occupied. Thankfully, the fighting has been restricted to those ares, and they don't seem to want to attack any of our established homes. Some sort of honor code I suppose.
More memories flash by, no time to understand what was happening really, just snapshots.
Leaving my Home world in a smaller four planet system to fight in a nearby system on another world that fighting had broken out on.
Finding a girl hidden in a refuse processing unit, barely holding onto life underneath a brilliantly blazing sun.
A sunset, bright orange over a green field, black marks scattered across it. A pillar of smoke rising from a pyre of dead bodies, as we preform a funeral rite customary across all systems in the United Human Systems. A beautiful view of the world, but I'm focusing on a girl helping move bodies to the pyre. Same girl that came from the colony whose members are now piled, going up in flames.
Night, the moon large and low in the sky, much closer to the planet than on any other world I'd seen, the craters all very easily visible. Melancholy tunes waft in the air - We won, but at a high cost on this planet.
Morning, the sun up bright and early, shining in through the window shades. Roll over, and there's the girl beside me. She's still asleep, her nose twitching as a lock of hair sneaks down her face to tickle her nose. I brush the hair back, resting my hand against her face.
Afternoon, working in the fields. I had been only seventeen when I left my home world to fight, and am now twenty four, working to support me and my wife, the girl I had found in the refuse processing unit. She's now twenty two. Our son follows me through the fields, toddling about on his unstable three year old legs. I catch him as he stumbles, off balance from throwing the spare seed he had been given in a circle. Wiping the hard earned sweat from my brow and grinning like a fool in spite of the oppressive heat and overwhelming amount of work left to be done before the day is over.
Evening again. The moon is pale, even though its full. A few clouds skirt across its face as I sit in my fields, the two freshly dug graves still laying empty behind me. My wife - What was her name? Amber? Yes, that's it, Amber - and young son had passed away from a new disease spreading like wildfire across the world. Apparently it had been a bio-weapon developed by the enemy, who had come back to reclaim "their" planet. I was one of the lucky ones, somehow immune to the disease.
Sun. Bright lights. Flashes as laser fire burns past me. Burning heat from the sun, but freezing from the chill of the laser bolts. I dash from behind the post I was hiding behind, and gun down two of the aliens. I roll towards one of the bodies, avoiding fire from three other aliens nearby. Grabbing the downed alien's gun as I roll by it, I come up into a squat, quickly finishing off the other three. I keep the gun.
A different planet. Night. Slowly approaching a guard from behind, kill it quickly and silently with a knife. Watching with enjoyment as it's black life slowly seeps from it's body. I grab the gun the alien had been holding and head off towards their camp.
"That was for Amber" I remember saying softly under my breath as I hefted the gun.
Day again, and yet another planet. Trenched behind a small concrete panel that used to be part of the entrance to a mine. One of just a few hidden soldiers put in place to shepherd the aliens towards the mine shaft.
It just keeps going, more and more, until finally I'm arriving at this planet, and shipped directly to where the fighting is the hardest. Where I got sent to the forward company, in the fields.
All of this happened in just a few seconds, but it was long enough for an alien to get behind me without me noticing. There's an abrupt empty feeling, as if something valuable had been lost, and an intense cold. I manage to look down as my eyes glaze over, and I'm not surprised to see a hole in my chest. A prefect circle, sides all charred and burnt. I fall to the ground, dead.
A laser blast hits someone to the right of where I'm crouched trying to avoid being hit. The guy had stood up to get a quick shot off, but the enemy had been waiting. Half of his head was just gone, and what was left of it was charred beyond recognition. No time to scream, he had simply stood up, and that was the last thing for him. His lifeless corpse hit the ground with a soft thump, collapsing like a sack of potatoes.
If the lasers could burn straight through a human, battle gear and all, why the hell am I stuck using a projectile weapon? I quickly search the "memories" of my character. Apparently, humans didn't develop personal use laser weapons, even after several decades of space exploration in faster than light ships. Which is stupid, because now - I thought to myself - now I get to fight aliens, on an alien world, against laser weapons, with something that works on gunpowder and a piece of lead. Dumbest idea in the book.
Another bolt flashed through the grass, scorching the ground beside me. Even though it had burned the ground, it made my arm feel cold, as though the side that had been closer to the bolt had just been dumped into cold water. If this is what it felt like to just be missed by one, I couldn't imagine what being hit by one would feel like. Looking around, I can just make out a shack rising out of the grain. It's a little ways off, but I should make it there safe if I move slowly through the grass.
I start to shuffle towards the shack, keeping at a low crouch to make sure I stay beneath the waist high grass. Suddenly, an alien stumbles into the path I'm on towards the shack. Without thinking, my "training" kicks in. I swing my gun up from the resting position I was holding it in, and with a quick precision, I fire two rounds into it's skull, and then another round into it's chest as I roll to the side to avoid any returning fire.
There isn't any. I return to my low crouch from the prone position I had ended my roll in and move towards the alien body. It's helmet is broken, smashed in from the impact of the bullets, the ceremonial carved inlay providing stress lines along which it shattered. There's a thick liquid bubbling up from the shots to the chest, or at least what passes for a chest on these creatures. Their long curved bodies and spindly legs make it look almost like a cross between a snake and a spider, except the legs are all bundled together at the base of the body, and then you get your snakeish looking bends, and then a pair of hands, two on each side that can fold together to be one on each side, and the the helmet and the long hair that's always floating up as though they were swimming all the time. There's a kind of deadly beauty to them, a sort of flow to their body, each piece of armor and gear attached to their bodies without disrupting it, merely accentuating the remarkable smooth design of it all.
Marvelous work they've done with this one, I thought. Usually shooter 'scapes don't get such artistic or detailed enemies.
In the few seconds I spent studying the dead body, a flood of "memories" flushed in. The first discovery of these aliens, when our separate colonization efforts met on several worlds. Highly territorial, they didn't like us trying to use the same planets they thought they had claim too. However, peace was brokered on several of the first planets we encountered each other on. Sadly, it was short lived, as a rogue alien ran into a human colony on a new planet and slaughtered the colony. Their local planetary government wasn't going to hand him over to humans, and so push came to shove, and then from there it spread across all of the worlds we both occupied. Thankfully, the fighting has been restricted to those ares, and they don't seem to want to attack any of our established homes. Some sort of honor code I suppose.
More memories flash by, no time to understand what was happening really, just snapshots.
Leaving my Home world in a smaller four planet system to fight in a nearby system on another world that fighting had broken out on.
Finding a girl hidden in a refuse processing unit, barely holding onto life underneath a brilliantly blazing sun.
A sunset, bright orange over a green field, black marks scattered across it. A pillar of smoke rising from a pyre of dead bodies, as we preform a funeral rite customary across all systems in the United Human Systems. A beautiful view of the world, but I'm focusing on a girl helping move bodies to the pyre. Same girl that came from the colony whose members are now piled, going up in flames.
Night, the moon large and low in the sky, much closer to the planet than on any other world I'd seen, the craters all very easily visible. Melancholy tunes waft in the air - We won, but at a high cost on this planet.
Morning, the sun up bright and early, shining in through the window shades. Roll over, and there's the girl beside me. She's still asleep, her nose twitching as a lock of hair sneaks down her face to tickle her nose. I brush the hair back, resting my hand against her face.
Afternoon, working in the fields. I had been only seventeen when I left my home world to fight, and am now twenty four, working to support me and my wife, the girl I had found in the refuse processing unit. She's now twenty two. Our son follows me through the fields, toddling about on his unstable three year old legs. I catch him as he stumbles, off balance from throwing the spare seed he had been given in a circle. Wiping the hard earned sweat from my brow and grinning like a fool in spite of the oppressive heat and overwhelming amount of work left to be done before the day is over.
Evening again. The moon is pale, even though its full. A few clouds skirt across its face as I sit in my fields, the two freshly dug graves still laying empty behind me. My wife - What was her name? Amber? Yes, that's it, Amber - and young son had passed away from a new disease spreading like wildfire across the world. Apparently it had been a bio-weapon developed by the enemy, who had come back to reclaim "their" planet. I was one of the lucky ones, somehow immune to the disease.
Sun. Bright lights. Flashes as laser fire burns past me. Burning heat from the sun, but freezing from the chill of the laser bolts. I dash from behind the post I was hiding behind, and gun down two of the aliens. I roll towards one of the bodies, avoiding fire from three other aliens nearby. Grabbing the downed alien's gun as I roll by it, I come up into a squat, quickly finishing off the other three. I keep the gun.
A different planet. Night. Slowly approaching a guard from behind, kill it quickly and silently with a knife. Watching with enjoyment as it's black life slowly seeps from it's body. I grab the gun the alien had been holding and head off towards their camp.
"That was for Amber" I remember saying softly under my breath as I hefted the gun.
Day again, and yet another planet. Trenched behind a small concrete panel that used to be part of the entrance to a mine. One of just a few hidden soldiers put in place to shepherd the aliens towards the mine shaft.
It just keeps going, more and more, until finally I'm arriving at this planet, and shipped directly to where the fighting is the hardest. Where I got sent to the forward company, in the fields.
All of this happened in just a few seconds, but it was long enough for an alien to get behind me without me noticing. There's an abrupt empty feeling, as if something valuable had been lost, and an intense cold. I manage to look down as my eyes glaze over, and I'm not surprised to see a hole in my chest. A prefect circle, sides all charred and burnt. I fall to the ground, dead.
So, before any of you go -
"HEY! Why's it been so long?!", let me explain.
Uhm...
Well...
Ok, so, long story short? Been busy. Ultra. Sorta. Not really. Ok, so maybe. Just a little?
Work has been... interesting to say the least. Uber happy that its sunny out though! That means that I get a somewhat-sorta-farmer/immigrant-worker tan. When I have work. Which is intermittent, fluctuating between loads of it, to none.
"But Keegan, if you have no work, why haven't you been writing for us???"
Well, its because I'm getting ready to move!
"...." -sounds of crickets chirping- "... Move? Seriously? Again???"
Uh, yeah. Again. Soooo... yeah. Cleaning up, and tons of yard work. Now, the fun part is this - When my sibs moved out to pops place, they left behind their junk here. Un organized. Messy. Junk. And so, my closet, which is the largest in the house, is (Well, Was. I went on a goodwill binge... As in getting rid of it) about mid-thigh-high. And almost none of it was mine. I won't say none, because some of my shirts had fallen off of hangers, and my trumpet and trombone were laying there, but for the majority, I've spent about two days digging through it cleaning it out.
I also went to a birthday party, turned nineteen myself, bought myself a 360 for my birthday, and have devoted some time to playing games (After pressure washing the driveway, mowing half the yard and breaking a belt on the mower, pressure washing the fence - sorta - and cleaning the kitchen... Or after leaving home at 8 for work and coming home at 8...) So, that's all been intense. And highly time consuming.
Speaking of games however, I wanna talk about this one in particular... Alan Wake. Have any of you heard of it? If not, you need to check it out. If you're into sorta freaky horror/psychological thriller/action games. It was very heavily reminiscent of Stephen King novels, but playing it, it sorta felt like resident evil four mixed with silent hill... A little more stylized than either one (In my opinion) but insanely all the better for it. Oh, and when I say reminiscent of Stephen King, I mean, its to where there's a scene where a guy uses an axe and punches it through the door that the main protag, Alan, is hiding behind. I'm going to include a picture of what I mean...
I'm sorry, but I really hate that actress. Not going to lie. I could seriously waltz right into that mouth, rearrange the furniture in there, and waltz right back out. Plus, she isn't that great looking. But regardless.... See what I mean? I think Alan Wake looks a bit more... cool? ... In his, but I may be biased. I love the book the Shining, don't get me wrong, but I just finished the game, and boy... It's like a Stephen King novel, as a game, that you play through, as opposed to a movie, trying to do a book justice. It's a hugely different experience, and much more rewarding. Although I must say, Jack Nicholson is pretty cool. In fact... here's a picture of me, compared to him when he played the role of the Joker. My friend Haley did this a while back for me...
So while I don't look exactly like him, by any stretch of the imagination, I still have a slightly Jack Nicholson-reminiscent smile. And yes, Reminiscent is so my word for the day.
Anyways, its been a while since I've played a game that really left me feeling like I had just finished a journey, like a good book, or something adventurous, and thats what I felt having finished this game. I sincerely hope there's another one like it coming out soon. I had heard of the possibility of add-on packs for it, more story lines and whatnot, but it seems to have fizzled out (last I checked at least. Which was a while ago..)
So, 'tis late, and I have work in the morning. So, goodnight, and I hope to write you all again soon!
Uhm...
Well...
Ok, so, long story short? Been busy. Ultra. Sorta. Not really. Ok, so maybe. Just a little?
Work has been... interesting to say the least. Uber happy that its sunny out though! That means that I get a somewhat-sorta-farmer/immigrant-worker tan. When I have work. Which is intermittent, fluctuating between loads of it, to none.
"But Keegan, if you have no work, why haven't you been writing for us???"
Well, its because I'm getting ready to move!
"...." -sounds of crickets chirping- "... Move? Seriously? Again???"
Uh, yeah. Again. Soooo... yeah. Cleaning up, and tons of yard work. Now, the fun part is this - When my sibs moved out to pops place, they left behind their junk here. Un organized. Messy. Junk. And so, my closet, which is the largest in the house, is (Well, Was. I went on a goodwill binge... As in getting rid of it) about mid-thigh-high. And almost none of it was mine. I won't say none, because some of my shirts had fallen off of hangers, and my trumpet and trombone were laying there, but for the majority, I've spent about two days digging through it cleaning it out.
I also went to a birthday party, turned nineteen myself, bought myself a 360 for my birthday, and have devoted some time to playing games (After pressure washing the driveway, mowing half the yard and breaking a belt on the mower, pressure washing the fence - sorta - and cleaning the kitchen... Or after leaving home at 8 for work and coming home at 8...) So, that's all been intense. And highly time consuming.
Speaking of games however, I wanna talk about this one in particular... Alan Wake. Have any of you heard of it? If not, you need to check it out. If you're into sorta freaky horror/psychological thriller/action games. It was very heavily reminiscent of Stephen King novels, but playing it, it sorta felt like resident evil four mixed with silent hill... A little more stylized than either one (In my opinion) but insanely all the better for it. Oh, and when I say reminiscent of Stephen King, I mean, its to where there's a scene where a guy uses an axe and punches it through the door that the main protag, Alan, is hiding behind. I'm going to include a picture of what I mean...
Anyways, its been a while since I've played a game that really left me feeling like I had just finished a journey, like a good book, or something adventurous, and thats what I felt having finished this game. I sincerely hope there's another one like it coming out soon. I had heard of the possibility of add-on packs for it, more story lines and whatnot, but it seems to have fizzled out (last I checked at least. Which was a while ago..)
So, 'tis late, and I have work in the morning. So, goodnight, and I hope to write you all again soon!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
So, this will become slightly meaningful as soon as I finish the segment for the story I'm writing
But in the meantime, take a quick peek at this
Yes, its stuff I drew. Anyways, that's just some quick sketches on what the enemy aliens look like in the 'scape game our protag is playing in.
Quick run down on them -
From a largely aquatic world close to their sun, they evolved from marine life. They however are largely cold blooded, remaining close to the surface or on the surface of the water on their home planet. They began to move onto land and developed the leg stalks that they have. Originally just legs, without the four arms, they crawled about, returning to the water often. Later developed the four split arms, at which point they began to be amphibious, but staying mostly on land. Their "hair" is actually a sort of natural antenna, allowing instant telepathic communication between them. This is a genetic trait from back when they lived underwater, and used that to communicate and form packs.
Highly social lives, androdioecist (I don't know the correct spelling, just click the link... Much like this fish...), highly aggressive and protective of their habitations. When their planet's unstable trajectory brought them further from their sun, they developed means to colonize other worlds, those usually with higher water levels and hydrogen air, close enough to a heat source for them to live comfortably without artificial sources.
Then, they ran into humans while colonizing a planet. Being aggressive over the planet they thought was theirs, humans responding in kind, a small war broke out.
Weapons are laser based, the charge packs are all interchangeable, fitting into the different weapons, and then sliding into wall chargers to allow recharging.
And that's where this game takes place, and whats going on.
Quick run down on them -
From a largely aquatic world close to their sun, they evolved from marine life. They however are largely cold blooded, remaining close to the surface or on the surface of the water on their home planet. They began to move onto land and developed the leg stalks that they have. Originally just legs, without the four arms, they crawled about, returning to the water often. Later developed the four split arms, at which point they began to be amphibious, but staying mostly on land. Their "hair" is actually a sort of natural antenna, allowing instant telepathic communication between them. This is a genetic trait from back when they lived underwater, and used that to communicate and form packs.
Highly social lives, androdioecist (I don't know the correct spelling, just click the link... Much like this fish...), highly aggressive and protective of their habitations. When their planet's unstable trajectory brought them further from their sun, they developed means to colonize other worlds, those usually with higher water levels and hydrogen air, close enough to a heat source for them to live comfortably without artificial sources.
Then, they ran into humans while colonizing a planet. Being aggressive over the planet they thought was theirs, humans responding in kind, a small war broke out.
Weapons are laser based, the charge packs are all interchangeable, fitting into the different weapons, and then sliding into wall chargers to allow recharging.
And that's where this game takes place, and whats going on.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
So this is that post I talked about earlier that would be a real post because lately they've just been stories.
And I've officially decided I like the large and over descriptive titles style. So plan on seeing them a lot (or however often I use them) in the future. Its also fun to use them. Try it. Just go to your blog (or wherever you write stuff) and use a super ridiculously long and descriptive title. I promise you'll giggle at least a little when you read it back to yourself. No giggling? Maybe you need to try it again.
But whatever. This is the real post! Woot! Life is good, been busy, my birthday is this week, totally not excited, I know, sound like an old geezer already, and thats about it for the update-on-Keegan's-life channel. Oh, that and that I went on a date on Saturday (OH MY GOODNESS KEEGAN KNOWS GIRLS?!?!?! AND THEY WENT ON A DATE WITH HIM??) Why yes, silly sentences contained by parenthesis, I do know some girls. And yes, I did happen to go on a date with one of them. To wild waves in fact. It was rather fun, and I loved the sun. {I've decided at least one sentence per post (Non-story post) will need to rhyme. FOL (Fact of Life)} (Anybody notice what I did there? Anyone? Anyone ever take a math class before?) Anyways, moving on.
I'm actually enjoying the story I'm writing. It fits very nicely into the story universe I have set up, almost as if I was planning on fitting it in before hand. Its what sorta sparks the final war that leads into the Home series. Good stuff, good good stuff.
So, now I'm ending this. Because what I really got on here to do was write an epic(ish) battle gunfight war scene. If I can pull that off that is. Fingers crossed!
But whatever. This is the real post! Woot! Life is good, been busy, my birthday is this week, totally not excited, I know, sound like an old geezer already, and thats about it for the update-on-Keegan's-life channel. Oh, that and that I went on a date on Saturday (OH MY GOODNESS KEEGAN KNOWS GIRLS?!?!?! AND THEY WENT ON A DATE WITH HIM??) Why yes, silly sentences contained by parenthesis, I do know some girls. And yes, I did happen to go on a date with one of them. To wild waves in fact. It was rather fun, and I loved the sun. {I've decided at least one sentence per post (Non-story post) will need to rhyme. FOL (Fact of Life)} (Anybody notice what I did there? Anyone? Anyone ever take a math class before?) Anyways, moving on.
I'm actually enjoying the story I'm writing. It fits very nicely into the story universe I have set up, almost as if I was planning on fitting it in before hand. Its what sorta sparks the final war that leads into the Home series. Good stuff, good good stuff.
So, now I'm ending this. Because what I really got on here to do was write an epic(ish) battle gunfight war scene. If I can pull that off that is. Fingers crossed!
Seg 2.1
No. Not here, outside of my dreams.
I look up at the name, glued to the bed. Unable to move, even if I wanted to. I'm too shocked to even think of moving.
What is his name doing here? And why is the tile attached to it? I stare at the name, trying to understand. I finally get up, and get it off of my ceiling. The piece of tile was held up by some wire wrapped around it and tacked to the ceiling, and the name was just the same stuff bent to spell out the name.
I'm not going to be able to get to bed. Not after something like that. I decide to go use the dreamscape. Its one of the few places I feel totally calm.
The dreamscape is like this whole other world, universes really that are dependent upon you for creation. It allows for you to be placed into these scenarios, these video games, and you get to play it out. I don't know the whole science behind it, but when it first came out, you got strapped into a seat basically, and the computer takes a scan of your brain. A second persona is then created within the video game that is you, identically, down to the all your memories, and then while you're asleep or plugged in, your computer persona runs through the game.
So its not like its really you playing the game, but more like your electronic doppleganger is for you. At the end of the game, or the simulation of sorts, the memories created during that game are "downloaded" into your brain. The electronic copy of you floating about in cyber space becomes dormant, stored into a personal storage device, that the player keeps so that you don't need a rescan every time you play.
Originally, it needed you to be strapped into these large chairs to allow the sounds to hit the body correctly to hypnotize you in a way, or just the vibrations, or something along those lines, but now its to where it all can be on a small device clipped over your ear, not much larger than earphone. Some people wear them everywhere they go, using them as earphones until they have a quick moment to relax, slip under, and enter the dreamscape.
Working for CrossTechD, I have one of the newest models on the market, a small earpiece about the size of my thumb that runs in a narrow strip up over my ear. It communicates with the nearest computer terminal to boost my signal, finding other players from all across the world. A game or two might be exactly what I need to relax me.
There's a humming sound as the device in my ear starts up (Its the CR 1512, genetically imprinted to work for me alone) and some shifting lights appear in front of me. They've got the system down to where it partially hypnotizes you at the beginning using just slight sounds to direct what you see and such. The lights clear to reveal a green screen in front of me, just slightly larger than a computer screen. Shows me recent connections used, games I tend to play more often, and a portion is devoted to the news. I'm just glancing around the screen, trying to figure out if I want to play along with some pals from across the world or start playing a game by myself when I notice something odd.
There, under recent connections is the name Peter again;
/subroutineactive 114.aa45 changeusr indentity: Peter.CSD0001 *******
It's there for only a moment, as soon as I notice it, it flickers out and disappears off screen. I frantically try going to my connections page, to see if its there, but theres no record of any connection under the name Peter. I head back to the main page.
I must of just been imaging things. I should probably go see a doctor about it. I mean a lot of stress, and now imaging that his name is all over the place? This Peter who I haven't even met but dream that I am all the time?
Whatever. I need to relax, and thats why I started playing in the 'scapes originally. I go to my friends and find a dreamer (Its what all of us users are called. They used to call it gamers, but less and less console games can actually compete beyond arcade use with the dreamscape tech so now they call us dreamers) from Eurasia named King. At least, that's the dreamertag for him (her. Unsure on that bit actually) He's playing the most recent shooter, some far future alien space invasion game, where we still use projectile weaponry. Which boggles me... Wouldn't we eventually get to laser weapons if we've developed space travel far enough to hit aliens? But then again, I'm not developing the games.
I decide to join him. The screen flashes twice, and then my vision goes out. Everything's black, and I can't see, but I feel the armor I wear in the game begin to solidify around me. A glimmer of shining white light appears, a pulsating dot. It shifts around a bit, and colors start to shimmer into it as well. Suddenly, the light grows faster, looking as though I'm speeding towards the end of a tunnel, my surroundings being light up, just a gray empty holding chamber without a wall, and the lights almost to me, I can see a field, some human looking characters in a firefight with something gigantic and obviously hostile, the lights passing me by, and the gray walls are gone and I'm standing in the middle of the grassy field, the fight just up ahead. Smoke and the smell of charred flesh and gunpowder reaches me, burned streaks in the grass looking like deathly scars burned into the golden waist high landscape.
Sun glints across my visor as I look towards the fight, pull my gun close to my body, and charge yelling at the top of my lungs into the chaos.
I look up at the name, glued to the bed. Unable to move, even if I wanted to. I'm too shocked to even think of moving.
What is his name doing here? And why is the tile attached to it? I stare at the name, trying to understand. I finally get up, and get it off of my ceiling. The piece of tile was held up by some wire wrapped around it and tacked to the ceiling, and the name was just the same stuff bent to spell out the name.
I'm not going to be able to get to bed. Not after something like that. I decide to go use the dreamscape. Its one of the few places I feel totally calm.
The dreamscape is like this whole other world, universes really that are dependent upon you for creation. It allows for you to be placed into these scenarios, these video games, and you get to play it out. I don't know the whole science behind it, but when it first came out, you got strapped into a seat basically, and the computer takes a scan of your brain. A second persona is then created within the video game that is you, identically, down to the all your memories, and then while you're asleep or plugged in, your computer persona runs through the game.
So its not like its really you playing the game, but more like your electronic doppleganger is for you. At the end of the game, or the simulation of sorts, the memories created during that game are "downloaded" into your brain. The electronic copy of you floating about in cyber space becomes dormant, stored into a personal storage device, that the player keeps so that you don't need a rescan every time you play.
Originally, it needed you to be strapped into these large chairs to allow the sounds to hit the body correctly to hypnotize you in a way, or just the vibrations, or something along those lines, but now its to where it all can be on a small device clipped over your ear, not much larger than earphone. Some people wear them everywhere they go, using them as earphones until they have a quick moment to relax, slip under, and enter the dreamscape.
Working for CrossTechD, I have one of the newest models on the market, a small earpiece about the size of my thumb that runs in a narrow strip up over my ear. It communicates with the nearest computer terminal to boost my signal, finding other players from all across the world. A game or two might be exactly what I need to relax me.
There's a humming sound as the device in my ear starts up (Its the CR 1512, genetically imprinted to work for me alone) and some shifting lights appear in front of me. They've got the system down to where it partially hypnotizes you at the beginning using just slight sounds to direct what you see and such. The lights clear to reveal a green screen in front of me, just slightly larger than a computer screen. Shows me recent connections used, games I tend to play more often, and a portion is devoted to the news. I'm just glancing around the screen, trying to figure out if I want to play along with some pals from across the world or start playing a game by myself when I notice something odd.
There, under recent connections is the name Peter again;
/subroutineactive 114.aa45 changeusr indentity: Peter.CSD0001 *******
It's there for only a moment, as soon as I notice it, it flickers out and disappears off screen. I frantically try going to my connections page, to see if its there, but theres no record of any connection under the name Peter. I head back to the main page.
I must of just been imaging things. I should probably go see a doctor about it. I mean a lot of stress, and now imaging that his name is all over the place? This Peter who I haven't even met but dream that I am all the time?
Whatever. I need to relax, and thats why I started playing in the 'scapes originally. I go to my friends and find a dreamer (Its what all of us users are called. They used to call it gamers, but less and less console games can actually compete beyond arcade use with the dreamscape tech so now they call us dreamers) from Eurasia named King. At least, that's the dreamertag for him (her. Unsure on that bit actually) He's playing the most recent shooter, some far future alien space invasion game, where we still use projectile weaponry. Which boggles me... Wouldn't we eventually get to laser weapons if we've developed space travel far enough to hit aliens? But then again, I'm not developing the games.
I decide to join him. The screen flashes twice, and then my vision goes out. Everything's black, and I can't see, but I feel the armor I wear in the game begin to solidify around me. A glimmer of shining white light appears, a pulsating dot. It shifts around a bit, and colors start to shimmer into it as well. Suddenly, the light grows faster, looking as though I'm speeding towards the end of a tunnel, my surroundings being light up, just a gray empty holding chamber without a wall, and the lights almost to me, I can see a field, some human looking characters in a firefight with something gigantic and obviously hostile, the lights passing me by, and the gray walls are gone and I'm standing in the middle of the grassy field, the fight just up ahead. Smoke and the smell of charred flesh and gunpowder reaches me, burned streaks in the grass looking like deathly scars burned into the golden waist high landscape.
Sun glints across my visor as I look towards the fight, pull my gun close to my body, and charge yelling at the top of my lungs into the chaos.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Chapter 1 (Seg 1.1-1.3)
Hello you lot! Just decided to bunch these all together, seeing as this constitutes chapter one, or a prologue of sorts. And yeah, changed a few words here or there, but nothing big. So if you've been keeping up, don't worry about this. This is all stuff you've seen and read before, just in one post now. I just wanted to see how long it would be.. Going to be putting it into a word doc to see how many characters and the such. Just for fun. Anyways, thats all for now!
Have you ever had a dream so vivid, so real, that when you woke up, it felt like falling asleep? That the waking, breathing world that we bustle to and from was fake, and what you saw in your dreams was what was really happening? The dreams were so close to reality that it almost made sense that I was simply living two lives, just one in my dreams and one when awake. You feel as though you're aging twice as fast, gaining twice as much life as everyone else. You feel like you're thirty at twenty, forty at twenty-five. If wasn't for the fact that your body needs sleep on occasion, I would stay up as much as possible. To experience dreams that real while asleep, to feel as though you're acting out someone else's life, but to wake up to your own life to live, its draining.
In fact, I don't remember much of my childhood. My first real memory was of when I was six. I was laying on the grass, just looking up into a tree that held my tree fort. Actually, I remember it so well, that I can still recall my line of thoughts - Where am I? I'm looking around, And I see the tree fort. I latch onto that. It's my tree fort. I play in it every day. Why do I hurt? Why am I on the ground? Did I fall? I don't think I fell. I can't remember. Where's mommy? I can't get up, it hurts to breath. Is the tree fort going to fall? No, but someone's screaming now. It's loud. Mom? Is that you? Mom? MOM?
"Mom?"
"Its ok, I'm here, I'm here"
And I'm being held by my mother. The wind blows a little, as mother holds my head. I try turning my head to look at her, but she holds me still and tells me not to move. I stop trying to move after that. There's leaves falling from the tree that my tree fort is in. Big leaves, floating down gently on a cushion of air. I try to imagine what it would be like to be like one of the leaves, to gently float down, but then my head starts hurting, and I forget about it. After a while, I remember men in costumes came to get me. They put me on a weird bed in a van, and then when they pulled me out, we were at a hospital. I didn't know then what one was at the time, just that it had hurt people there, and that I must be just another hurt person.
From there on it becomes a blur, my memory fragments, and its not until my teen years that I really start remembering things again. I used to have these wicked dreams though, dreams where it felt like I was awake, but then I would wake up. It was always dreams about this one guy, being this one person. I went to school as him one time even. That was the day I stayed home and slept all day because I was really sick in junior high. It was just something really strange. I came up with a name for him even - Peter. Peter Holding. I gave him my last name because it was like I was him when I fell asleep. I thought though that Peter was a cool name, and so I just used it. It took a while, but then the people in the dreams that I met started calling me Peter, and so it stuck.
Then I got done with school, and I started going to work. I was going to go into counseling, but I finally discovered I just didn't feel comfortable talking to strangers about their problems. I had always been told I was a great listener, and so I thought it would be a great job for me, but turns out it wasn't. Since I dropped from the program around the time when I was about to intern with a local school I've become somewhat of a night owl. I don't get up much during the day, and I go out and hit up the clubs at night. I have a friend, Darren, who goes with me and sometimes we just bar hop all night long, staggering home at 5 in the morning just to fall asleep and then go about and do the same all over. The drinking helps though - it means I don't dream. I'm tired of dreaming of some Peter that has the job that I thought I was going to be good at, and who has a great life. Me, I'm just happy that theres money in the bank, and that I can go have fun, but I feel like something is missing. I can't figure out what it is though, and its just always there, nagging, constantly nagging, at the back of your brain, telling you that you know you know something, but you've forgotten what that something is, which makes it all the more horrible, because its something you need.
Now though, with the drinking, its rare that I dream of being Peter, for which I'm thankful. Its rare that I dream at all actually, its become where its usually just a blank space of time from when I fall asleep to when I wake up again.
I don't even know why I'm writing this, its not like writing what I feel is going to help at all. If by writing a couple words on a page I could figure out what it is that I feel I'm missing, then it would just be great. But it isn't working so far, so I guess I may just have to try something else. Maybe go see a shrink. That might be a good idea. I just hope that they can help instead of just taking your money and leaving. Peter goes to a couple, and they never seem to be able to help him with his problems, whatever they are. I always seem to miss the dreams that would explain them. It's like an episodic show going on in my head at night, and I'm missing most of the episodes.
Dreams so vivid, so real, that when you woke up, it felt like falling asleep?
Have you ever had a dream so vivid, so real, that when you woke up, it felt like falling asleep? That the waking, breathing world that we bustle to and from was fake, and what you saw in your dreams was what was really happening? The dreams were so close to reality that it almost made sense that I was simply living two lives, just one in my dreams and one when awake. You feel as though you're aging twice as fast, gaining twice as much life as everyone else. You feel like you're thirty at twenty, forty at twenty-five. If wasn't for the fact that your body needs sleep on occasion, I would stay up as much as possible. To experience dreams that real while asleep, to feel as though you're acting out someone else's life, but to wake up to your own life to live, its draining.
In fact, I don't remember much of my childhood. My first real memory was of when I was six. I was laying on the grass, just looking up into a tree that held my tree fort. Actually, I remember it so well, that I can still recall my line of thoughts - Where am I? I'm looking around, And I see the tree fort. I latch onto that. It's my tree fort. I play in it every day. Why do I hurt? Why am I on the ground? Did I fall? I don't think I fell. I can't remember. Where's mommy? I can't get up, it hurts to breath. Is the tree fort going to fall? No, but someone's screaming now. It's loud. Mom? Is that you? Mom? MOM?
"Mom?"
"Its ok, I'm here, I'm here"
And I'm being held by my mother. The wind blows a little, as mother holds my head. I try turning my head to look at her, but she holds me still and tells me not to move. I stop trying to move after that. There's leaves falling from the tree that my tree fort is in. Big leaves, floating down gently on a cushion of air. I try to imagine what it would be like to be like one of the leaves, to gently float down, but then my head starts hurting, and I forget about it. After a while, I remember men in costumes came to get me. They put me on a weird bed in a van, and then when they pulled me out, we were at a hospital. I didn't know then what one was at the time, just that it had hurt people there, and that I must be just another hurt person.
From there on it becomes a blur, my memory fragments, and its not until my teen years that I really start remembering things again. I used to have these wicked dreams though, dreams where it felt like I was awake, but then I would wake up. It was always dreams about this one guy, being this one person. I went to school as him one time even. That was the day I stayed home and slept all day because I was really sick in junior high. It was just something really strange. I came up with a name for him even - Peter. Peter Holding. I gave him my last name because it was like I was him when I fell asleep. I thought though that Peter was a cool name, and so I just used it. It took a while, but then the people in the dreams that I met started calling me Peter, and so it stuck.
Then I got done with school, and I started going to work. I was going to go into counseling, but I finally discovered I just didn't feel comfortable talking to strangers about their problems. I had always been told I was a great listener, and so I thought it would be a great job for me, but turns out it wasn't. Since I dropped from the program around the time when I was about to intern with a local school I've become somewhat of a night owl. I don't get up much during the day, and I go out and hit up the clubs at night. I have a friend, Darren, who goes with me and sometimes we just bar hop all night long, staggering home at 5 in the morning just to fall asleep and then go about and do the same all over. The drinking helps though - it means I don't dream. I'm tired of dreaming of some Peter that has the job that I thought I was going to be good at, and who has a great life. Me, I'm just happy that theres money in the bank, and that I can go have fun, but I feel like something is missing. I can't figure out what it is though, and its just always there, nagging, constantly nagging, at the back of your brain, telling you that you know you know something, but you've forgotten what that something is, which makes it all the more horrible, because its something you need.
Now though, with the drinking, its rare that I dream of being Peter, for which I'm thankful. Its rare that I dream at all actually, its become where its usually just a blank space of time from when I fall asleep to when I wake up again.
I don't even know why I'm writing this, its not like writing what I feel is going to help at all. If by writing a couple words on a page I could figure out what it is that I feel I'm missing, then it would just be great. But it isn't working so far, so I guess I may just have to try something else. Maybe go see a shrink. That might be a good idea. I just hope that they can help instead of just taking your money and leaving. Peter goes to a couple, and they never seem to be able to help him with his problems, whatever they are. I always seem to miss the dreams that would explain them. It's like an episodic show going on in my head at night, and I'm missing most of the episodes.
"Peter? I know this is a sudden proposition, but you have to come to a decision soon. You're the one most likely to have a successful operation out of all the candidates, but if you can't handle it, we can find someone else. You aren't special by any means, just more likely to succeed then the rest. This can be yours if you want."
"And the money? How does that work? You should know better than to think I'll do this for free Kuna."
"Peter, its never been about the money. Think of all we could accomplish with this! If it works, we wouldn't ever need to worry about money."
"Kuna, if it works, it'll be your name over everything. Your name. Not your guinea pigs. Now, I want to know that I won't fall off the edge of the books on this one."
"And here I thought we were friends."
"We are. Thats why I'm considering this Kuna. Is it really worth it? For you? For me? For whats going to happen?"
"Yes. It will be."
"And the other Candidates? What will happen to them?"
"Well Peter, thats what we're talking about. You know what happens to them. Thats why we're offering it to you first, that way you won't become another tool."
"Is that what it comes too? We really aren't friends then, are we?"
"Oh we are. More than you can imagine. But this needs to happen. So choose. You have until morning."
"Sounds like I need some new friends then"
Kuna laughed gently under her breath. Rising from her seat in the little room in which she had been talking to Peter she headed for the door, a light grey, the only thing breaking the monotonous white that was the walls, ceiling, and floor save for the two chairs, and the small cot. Those happened to be a light grey like the door.
"Some new friends might do you good Peter. But you know how hard it is for you to find those. And besides, if you make the right choice, you'll be making plenty of new friends anyways." Kuna said in parting, putting light emphasis on friends as she closed the grey door behind her.
There was a small hiss as the door sealed.
"Damn." Peter muttered under his breath getting up from his seat. "Puppets. That's all we are. Puppets."
Peter fell asleep on the cot some time later repeating his mantra.
"Puppets. Thats all we are."
It had been a month since my last dream of that Peter guy, and as soon as I start feeling like he's gone, I have the one dream that started it all. Peter talking to the marten.
Whats weird is I know Kuna in real life. She almost got me a job in the company she works with, CrossTechD, a developer of the dreamer technology that everyone threw a fit about a couple years back. The second five day war, between insurgents and dreamer tech users against local governments over the further use and development of dreamer tech. It was a mess, left hundreds dead across the world, and all over what started as video game tech. Anyways, she works in the research department, figuring out new ways to use the stuff. She's a genius, but sadly she missed her mark when she went into developing technology for video games. She went to school for psychophysiology, but she ended up in CrossTechD. Strange stuff.
But I'm not complaining. She tried her best to get me a position working for her company, but after a couple interviews that sounded really good, the position fell through. And I went on my way. Kuna pulled a couple more strings though, and they gave me a recommendation that got me a job at a sister company as a janitor. With hellishly good pay. Basically, they pay me a ridiculously high amount, as a salaried staff, which is insane, to replace light bulbs. Doesn't make sense to me either, but it pays the bills, and it pays off at the bars as well.
I just mention the paycheck amount, not the position. It usually does the trick, especially when backed by the wad of green purposefully left poking a little out of the wallet. I also have the edge of a tagger poking out as well. I've had to use it as well. There was one time when someone took a little bit too long of a look at the money and followed me out of the bar to make some less than friendly advances. Big guy too - not my type at all. Took two or three hits from the tagger before the paralyzing agents in the darts took effect and knocked him out. Long enough for him to get two good punches in, leaving me with a broken nose and a black eye. Unluckily for him, he owed people money. Some serious people. Too the best of my knowledge thats why he followed me out of the bar. Anyways, these people came out of the bar, and basically tripped over his paralyzed body. And all of his debts happened to be past due.
Haven't seen him since. And people don't mention his name or what happened to him either. Guess he was down long enough not to be able to put up a fight. Worked out for the serious people as well as for me - no one tries to lift my money, and every one tries a littler harder to make sure they don't wait to long to repay what they've borrowed.
I sit there though, gasping. The dream was so vivid... I would swear it was me, not Peter in it, except Kuna was calling me Peter, and she wouldn't ever do that. She knows me. We even dated casually for a bit. But that doesn't matter. This was the same dream that started everything. Back when I was like six. Except - I didn't know Kuna back then. And this was the first time I recognized her, which was odd.
I get up and out of bed and head to the shower. This was to much. I make it almost to the shower, collapsing on the bathroom floor in a cold sweat. I vomit, gagging as I try to hold myself up and not throw up on myself, but it doesn't work. I fall back onto the floor, my soaked shirt to wet with sweat to really pick up any of my leftover dinner.
After a few minutes of chilled shivering, I manage to weakly get up and turn on the shower. I slump into the shower, half sitting, leaned up against the wall as the warm water pours over me, fully clothed. I lean my head back, opening my mouth, letting the water wash my hair back, filling my mouth and spilling out and over, washing away the taste of bile and the smell from my nose. Steam fills the bathroom, and theres a chipped tile from my watch hitting the floor. The half shattered image is a purple flower, lavender. As I look at it in a daze, it becomes dimmed by the steam. The whole bathroom is filled, a pale ghastly whitish grey hiding objects, making even the cabinet just a dim shadow.
I look down at my arms and scream, muffled by the steam, even to my ears. The water, initially warm, has become scalding without my notice. My arms are now bright red and white, dead skin peeling and rolling off to either side, trying to escape the hot water. Suddenly I switch from not noticing the pain or the heat to hyper aware. Each single drop is a quiet explosion, fiery lances digging into my flesh, all up and down my body, my clothing barely protecting me from the fiery war. I'm in such shock, I can't even move, and I just sit there, pain seeming to settle as a blanket over me, slowly feeding itself on my body, slowly, oh so slowly working its way down to my core, leaving behind fire as it moves on.
I come too, lying on the bottom of my shower still. Icy cold water pouring out of the shower head revitalizing me, leaving pucker marks on my fresh skin as it heals. I look over and through the glass shower door my eyes settle on the broken tile again. It lays there, unable to help itself.
Just like me.
Broken.
But I'm not complaining. She tried her best to get me a position working for her company, but after a couple interviews that sounded really good, the position fell through. And I went on my way. Kuna pulled a couple more strings though, and they gave me a recommendation that got me a job at a sister company as a janitor. With hellishly good pay. Basically, they pay me a ridiculously high amount, as a salaried staff, which is insane, to replace light bulbs. Doesn't make sense to me either, but it pays the bills, and it pays off at the bars as well.
I just mention the paycheck amount, not the position. It usually does the trick, especially when backed by the wad of green purposefully left poking a little out of the wallet. I also have the edge of a tagger poking out as well. I've had to use it as well. There was one time when someone took a little bit too long of a look at the money and followed me out of the bar to make some less than friendly advances. Big guy too - not my type at all. Took two or three hits from the tagger before the paralyzing agents in the darts took effect and knocked him out. Long enough for him to get two good punches in, leaving me with a broken nose and a black eye. Unluckily for him, he owed people money. Some serious people. Too the best of my knowledge thats why he followed me out of the bar. Anyways, these people came out of the bar, and basically tripped over his paralyzed body. And all of his debts happened to be past due.
Haven't seen him since. And people don't mention his name or what happened to him either. Guess he was down long enough not to be able to put up a fight. Worked out for the serious people as well as for me - no one tries to lift my money, and every one tries a littler harder to make sure they don't wait to long to repay what they've borrowed.
I sit there though, gasping. The dream was so vivid... I would swear it was me, not Peter in it, except Kuna was calling me Peter, and she wouldn't ever do that. She knows me. We even dated casually for a bit. But that doesn't matter. This was the same dream that started everything. Back when I was like six. Except - I didn't know Kuna back then. And this was the first time I recognized her, which was odd.
I get up and out of bed and head to the shower. This was to much. I make it almost to the shower, collapsing on the bathroom floor in a cold sweat. I vomit, gagging as I try to hold myself up and not throw up on myself, but it doesn't work. I fall back onto the floor, my soaked shirt to wet with sweat to really pick up any of my leftover dinner.
After a few minutes of chilled shivering, I manage to weakly get up and turn on the shower. I slump into the shower, half sitting, leaned up against the wall as the warm water pours over me, fully clothed. I lean my head back, opening my mouth, letting the water wash my hair back, filling my mouth and spilling out and over, washing away the taste of bile and the smell from my nose. Steam fills the bathroom, and theres a chipped tile from my watch hitting the floor. The half shattered image is a purple flower, lavender. As I look at it in a daze, it becomes dimmed by the steam. The whole bathroom is filled, a pale ghastly whitish grey hiding objects, making even the cabinet just a dim shadow.
I look down at my arms and scream, muffled by the steam, even to my ears. The water, initially warm, has become scalding without my notice. My arms are now bright red and white, dead skin peeling and rolling off to either side, trying to escape the hot water. Suddenly I switch from not noticing the pain or the heat to hyper aware. Each single drop is a quiet explosion, fiery lances digging into my flesh, all up and down my body, my clothing barely protecting me from the fiery war. I'm in such shock, I can't even move, and I just sit there, pain seeming to settle as a blanket over me, slowly feeding itself on my body, slowly, oh so slowly working its way down to my core, leaving behind fire as it moves on.
I come too, lying on the bottom of my shower still. Icy cold water pouring out of the shower head revitalizing me, leaving pucker marks on my fresh skin as it heals. I look over and through the glass shower door my eyes settle on the broken tile again. It lays there, unable to help itself.
Just like me.
Broken.
Shattered by someone, something bigger than itself. Not really sure why it hit me like that, but it did. All I could do was stare at the tile, and how simple a metaphor it was for my life. Not that I could hold anyone responsible, its not like someone just came along and decided to shatter my perfect life, my "complete tile", but thats what it feels like. Feels like I've been just trying to get by with half of what I'm supposed to, like getting the short stick in a draw, except for this short stick was my life. Or at least its what it seems like. I still go out, but its all just become dry. Lifeless. I'm going through the motions, but its no longer fun or exciting. Dull, thats the word I'm looking for.
The pain is just a dull throbbing, the cold water numbing my body as my mind swirls around in its haze of self pity. I finally tear my eyes off of the tile and lean up to turn off the water. A few drops of water fall out after I shut it off, the stream of water from the shower head slowly pitter-pattering itself out. I'm too exhausted to move, so I just fall back and lay there, my clothes soaked and clinging to my body. Its not the most enjoyable feeling, but I manage to ignore that. Too tired to move, too tired to even focus on anything really, I just start to slip again, my eyes drawn back to that tile, to the metaphorical enigma that I felt was my life wrapped up in such an exquisitely simple package, and I quietly slipped into sleep, my mind humming along with a thousand different thoughts just below the surface, but none rising above the monotonous fog in my head.
The pain is just a dull throbbing, the cold water numbing my body as my mind swirls around in its haze of self pity. I finally tear my eyes off of the tile and lean up to turn off the water. A few drops of water fall out after I shut it off, the stream of water from the shower head slowly pitter-pattering itself out. I'm too exhausted to move, so I just fall back and lay there, my clothes soaked and clinging to my body. Its not the most enjoyable feeling, but I manage to ignore that. Too tired to move, too tired to even focus on anything really, I just start to slip again, my eyes drawn back to that tile, to the metaphorical enigma that I felt was my life wrapped up in such an exquisitely simple package, and I quietly slipped into sleep, my mind humming along with a thousand different thoughts just below the surface, but none rising above the monotonous fog in my head.
"Peter? I know this is a sudden proposition, but you have to come to a decision soon. You're the one most likely to have a successful operation out of all the candidates, but if you can't handle it, we can find someone else. You aren't special by any means, just more likely to succeed then the rest. This can be yours if you want."
"And the other candidates? What happens to them if I agree?"
"You always cared too much Peter. But thats a good quality I suppose, if that's what does it for you. I've always found I like... More of a carefree attitude, personally." Mardar said as she licked her lips, tongue slowly catching on her upper lip, pulling it into her mouth for a quick nibble.
Peter looked up at her, raising one eyebrow slowly. "So you like children now Kuna? Is that what you're trying to tell me here?" He said somberly.
Mardar pouted. "I was trying to make a joke Peter." She sighed "If you must know, the other candidates will be the ones tested upon. Thats how it works. I'm pretty sure I explained this too you earlier. Why do you have to be so difficult?"
"To keep you on your toes. Besides, if I didn't, no one would. Check please!" Peter motioned a waiter over suddenly. The two were sitting at a small table on a veranda, surrounded by other small tables, all lit by candle, but theirs was the only occupied table.
"Thank you" Mardar smiled at the waiter as he left the table after giving Peter the check. "It must be nice you know."
"What must be nice?" Peter asked, giving her a funny look.
"Having money" She said slyly. "Must be nice to just reserve the whole restaurant if you wanted a private conversation while dining out. Not just any place either, you had to go high class, didn't you?" She added, glancing about. The soft candle light illuminated the ground enough to walk between tables, but dissipated into a soft glow just above the tables. This, coupled with the shining reflections of the bells hanging fr tomhe edges of the tables, and the low chuckling sound they produced as they swayed softly in the breeze was enchanting.
"Well, considering I am going to be taking you up on that offer, I figured we had to do something special this evening" Peter replied, lightly stressing 'special'. "It's not exactly like I'll be hurting for money, so I might as well get used to using it." He smiled cheekily at Mardar. "Besides, we both know how well I do with... people. And friends. So I needed someone to celebrate with. Hence why I called you up."
"And here I thought perhaps I was being chosen especially." She replied winking. "Some new friends might do you good though, Peter. You know that seeing people is important. Humans are naturally social creatures. It's part of why what we're attempting is so likely to work. We all have natural tendencies to depend upon each other, just this is... more sophisticated and much less friendly about it." She leaned forward, a smile parting her lips. "Now, about this 'celebration'. Does it end with dinner, or is there dessert at your place afterwards?"
"I suppose I could do with a little dessert myself..." Peter leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss before sitting back. "But I believe we have to wait for the receipt before leaving for that."
Kuna pouted at him, crossing her arms in a childish manner.
"Now now Kuna... I would hate to go to all this trouble, and then get hit by some legal problem because I forgot and didn't have record of where a couple thousand dollars went. I'm sure that our evening can wait for a few more minutes." Peter smiled. "Besides, a little anticipation never killed anyone. Just makes dessert more... delightful."
His smile grew, mirroring Kuna's pout.
I always wake up before I... I mean, Peter... Gets back to his place with Kuna. And I can't help but wish I could stay asleep a little longer, just to see what happens, to live those moments. As much as I hate dreaming of being Peter, whoever this guy is, I must admit at times I am rather jealous of him.
Especially with regard to Kuna. This is the second dream I've had where I've had the dream before with out realizing it was Kuna in it, and now I'm recognizing her. I don't know how I didn't before.
Long, soft, glimmering black hair, so dark that it seems to suck in the color around it, framing a petite face, deeply tanned by the sun in Panama where she came from. A slight frame, slightly shorter, hardened by work as a teen, and continually reinforced by her rigorous exercise regimes now that her food and life doesn't depend on the next crop. How she managed to go through school at all amazes me, much less to go on to become a psychophysiologist. It is simply astounding. I wonder what makes Peter so special, what draws her to him. Is it the money? Something to do with being the one candidate or something I suppose. Something I'm not.
Anyways, I got out of the shower after a while. Woke up and the water was off. I probably bumped it or something. I got up, cleaned up the vomit, changed, and then took a real shower, without scalding water this time. I need to talk to the upkeep for this place about that. No good to have renters burn themselves in the shower. I was feeling much better, functioning normally, or as normally as I can. Going about the bathroom cleaning up later that night and I noticed something odd. My tile was missing. There was a few pieces of splintered tile, more dust than anything, and an empty square where the tile should have been. I wonder where it went. I don't think I removed it, but then again, when I was cleaning up the vomit I still wasn't completely functioning again. I just don't know why I would have removed it, or what I would have done with it. Sort of a little weird, it just going missing like that.
It wasn't until much later that I found it. I had just gotten home from work (replacing lightbulbs of all things), and after what had happened earlier in the day I didn't feel like hitting up the night clubs or bar hopping like I usually would do, roaming the streets in search of some form of entertainment, so I went to go lie down. I was in my bed when I found it.
Fastened somehow to the ceiling was my tile. Directly above my head. And in small, jittery handwriting directly beneath it was someone's name. I guessed it before I could even really read it, and chills ran up and down my spine.
Peter.
Anyways, I got out of the shower after a while. Woke up and the water was off. I probably bumped it or something. I got up, cleaned up the vomit, changed, and then took a real shower, without scalding water this time. I need to talk to the upkeep for this place about that. No good to have renters burn themselves in the shower. I was feeling much better, functioning normally, or as normally as I can. Going about the bathroom cleaning up later that night and I noticed something odd. My tile was missing. There was a few pieces of splintered tile, more dust than anything, and an empty square where the tile should have been. I wonder where it went. I don't think I removed it, but then again, when I was cleaning up the vomit I still wasn't completely functioning again. I just don't know why I would have removed it, or what I would have done with it. Sort of a little weird, it just going missing like that.
It wasn't until much later that I found it. I had just gotten home from work (replacing lightbulbs of all things), and after what had happened earlier in the day I didn't feel like hitting up the night clubs or bar hopping like I usually would do, roaming the streets in search of some form of entertainment, so I went to go lie down. I was in my bed when I found it.
Fastened somehow to the ceiling was my tile. Directly above my head. And in small, jittery handwriting directly beneath it was someone's name. I guessed it before I could even really read it, and chills ran up and down my spine.
Peter.
Seg 1.3
Quick disclaimer here guys... this is all rough rough draft. As in, its pretty much unedited as it comes to mind. Which means there may be a few disconnects or contradictions. I know of at least a few, and I've got it sorted out how those will be fixed, but for now, don't worry if its a little confusing. This is picking directly up in the place it left off, its the same segment of story really, in the ideal world there wouldn't have been a break there. Also, this isn't a childrens story... I'm sorry, but it will have some adult thematics. It just adds a whole 'nother realm of complexity to it all. So it won't go into detail, but it will have some stuff thrown in. Like you'll see in this segment.
Oh! And before I forget, this is my story. Common Creative license currently, meaning that its here, its mine, I give you permission to re-use it with permission, if you do use it (after getting permission) just make sure you give credit, and please don't try selling it. (meaning don't. At all.) I enjoy writing, and I would hope you guys enjoy reading. So lets not ruin our bond here by doing anything stupid like stealing it. Cheers!
Just like me.
Broken.
Shattered by someone, something bigger than itself. Not really sure why it hit me like that, but it did. All I could do was stare at the tile, and how simple a metaphor it was for my life. Not that I could hold anyone responsible, its not like someone just came along and decided to shatter my perfect life, my "complete tile", but thats what it feels like. Feels like I've been just trying to get by with half of what I'm supposed to, like getting the short stick in a draw, except for this short stick was my life. Or at least its what it seems like. I still go out, but its all just become dry. Lifeless. I'm going through the motions, but its no longer fun or exciting. Dull, thats the word I'm looking for.
The pain is just a dull throbbing, the cold water numbing my body as my mind swirls around in its haze of self pity. I finally tear my eyes off of the tile and lean up to turn off the water. A few drops of water fall out after I shut it off, the stream of water from the shower head slowly pitter-pattering itself out. I'm too exhausted to move, so I just fall back and lay there, my clothes soaked and clinging to my body. Its not the most enjoyable feeling, but I manage to ignore that. Too tired to move, too tired to even focus on anything really, I just start to slip again, my eyes drawn back to that tile, to the metaphorical enigma that I felt was my life wrapped up in such an exquisitely simple package, and I quietly slipped into sleep, my mind humming along with a thousand different thoughts just below the surface, but none rising above the monotonous fog in my head.
Oh! And before I forget, this is my story. Common Creative license currently, meaning that its here, its mine, I give you permission to re-use it with permission, if you do use it (after getting permission) just make sure you give credit, and please don't try selling it. (meaning don't. At all.) I enjoy writing, and I would hope you guys enjoy reading. So lets not ruin our bond here by doing anything stupid like stealing it. Cheers!
Just like me.
Broken.
Shattered by someone, something bigger than itself. Not really sure why it hit me like that, but it did. All I could do was stare at the tile, and how simple a metaphor it was for my life. Not that I could hold anyone responsible, its not like someone just came along and decided to shatter my perfect life, my "complete tile", but thats what it feels like. Feels like I've been just trying to get by with half of what I'm supposed to, like getting the short stick in a draw, except for this short stick was my life. Or at least its what it seems like. I still go out, but its all just become dry. Lifeless. I'm going through the motions, but its no longer fun or exciting. Dull, thats the word I'm looking for.
The pain is just a dull throbbing, the cold water numbing my body as my mind swirls around in its haze of self pity. I finally tear my eyes off of the tile and lean up to turn off the water. A few drops of water fall out after I shut it off, the stream of water from the shower head slowly pitter-pattering itself out. I'm too exhausted to move, so I just fall back and lay there, my clothes soaked and clinging to my body. Its not the most enjoyable feeling, but I manage to ignore that. Too tired to move, too tired to even focus on anything really, I just start to slip again, my eyes drawn back to that tile, to the metaphorical enigma that I felt was my life wrapped up in such an exquisitely simple package, and I quietly slipped into sleep, my mind humming along with a thousand different thoughts just below the surface, but none rising above the monotonous fog in my head.
"Peter? I know this is a sudden proposition, but you have to come to a decision soon. You're the one most likely to have a successful operation out of all the candidates, but if you can't handle it, we can find someone else. You aren't special by any means, just more likely to succeed then the rest. This can be yours if you want."
"And the other candidates? What happens to them if I agree?"
"You always cared too much Peter. But thats a good quality I suppose, if that's what does it for you. I've always found I like... More of a carefree attitude, personally." Mardar said as she licked her lips, tongue slowly catching on her upper lip, pulling it into her mouth for a quick nibble.
Peter looked up at her, raising one eyebrow slowly. "So you like children now Kuna? Is that what you're trying to tell me here?" He said somberly.
Mardar pouted. "I was trying to make a joke Peter." She sighed "If you must know, the other candidates will be the ones tested upon. Thats how it works. I'm pretty sure I explained this too you earlier. Why do you have to be so difficult?"
"To keep you on your toes. Besides, if I didn't, no one would. Check please!" Peter motioned a waiter over suddenly. The two were sitting at a small table on a veranda, surrounded by other small tables, all lit by candle, but theirs was the only occupied table.
"Thank you" Mardar smiled at the waiter as he left the table after giving Peter the check. "It must be nice you know."
"What must be nice?" Peter asked, giving her a funny look.
"Having money" She said slyly. "Must be nice to just reserve the whole restaurant if you wanted a private conversation while dining out. Not just any place either, you had to go high class, didn't you?" She added, glancing about. The soft candle light illuminated the ground enough to walk between tables, but dissipated into a soft glow just above the tables. This, coupled with the shining reflections of the bells hanging fr tomhe edges of the tables, and the low chuckling sound they produced as they swayed softly in the breeze was enchanting.
"Well, considering I am going to be taking you up on that offer, I figured we had to do something special this evening" Peter replied, lightly stressing 'special'. "It's not exactly like I'll be hurting for money, so I might as well get used to using it." He smiled cheekily at Mardar. "Besides, we both know how well I do with... people. And friends. So I needed someone to celebrate with. Hence why I called you up."
"And here I thought perhaps I was being chosen especially." She replied winking. "Some new friends might do you good though, Peter. You know that seeing people is important. Humans are naturally social creatures. It's part of why what we're attempting is so likely to work. We all have natural tendencies to depend upon each other, just this is... more sophisticated and much less friendly about it." She leaned forward, a smile parting her lips. "Now, about this 'celebration'. Does it end with dinner, or is there dessert at your place afterwards?"
"I suppose I could do with a little dessert myself..." Peter leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss before sitting back. "But I believe we have to wait for the receipt before leaving for that."
Kuna pouted at him, crossing her arms in a childish manner.
"Now now Kuna... I would hate to go to all this trouble, and then get hit by some legal problem because I forgot and didn't have record of where a couple thousand dollars went. I'm sure that our evening can wait for a few more minutes." Peter smiled. "Besides, a little anticipation never killed anyone. Just makes dessert more... delightful."
His smile grew, mirroring Kuna's pout.
I always wake up before I... I mean, Peter... Gets back to his place with Kuna. And I can't help but wish I could stay asleep a little longer, just to see what happens, to live those moments. As much as I hate dreaming of being Peter, whoever this guy is, I must admit at times I am rather jealous of him.
Especially with regard to Kuna. This is the second dream I've had where I've had the dream before with out realizing it was Kuna in it, and now I'm recognizing her. I don't know how I didn't before.
Long, soft, glimmering black hair, so dark that it seems to suck in the color around it, framing a petite face, deeply tanned by the sun in Panama where she came from. A slight frame, slightly shorter, hardened by work as a teen, and continually reinforced by her rigorous exercise regimes now that her food and life doesn't depend on the next crop. How she managed to go through school at all amazes me, much less to go on to become a psychophysiologist. It is simply astounding. I wonder what makes Peter so special, what draws her to him. Is it the money? Something to do with being the one candidate or something I suppose. Something I'm not.
Anyways, I got out of the shower after a while. Woke up and the water was off. I probably bumped it or something. I got up, cleaned up the vomit, changed, and then took a real shower, without scalding water this time. I need to talk to the upkeep for this place about that. No good to have renters burn themselves in the shower. I was feeling much better, functioning normally, or as normally as I can. Going about the bathroom cleaning up later that night and I noticed something odd. My tile was missing. There was a few pieces of splintered tile, more dust than anything, and an empty square where the tile should have been. I wonder where it went. I don't think I removed it, but then again, when I was cleaning up the vomit I still wasn't completely functioning again. I just don't know why I would have removed it, or what I would have done with it. Sort of a little weird, it just going missing like that.
It wasn't until much later that I found it. I had just gotten home from work (replacing lightbulbs of all things), and after what had happened earlier in the day I didn't feel like hitting up the night clubs or bar hopping like I usually would do, roaming the streets in search of some form of entertainment, so I went to go lie down. I was in my bed when I found it.
Fastened somehow to the ceiling was my tile. Directly above my head. And in small, jittery handwriting directly beneath it was someone's name. I guessed it before I could even really read it, and chills ran up and down my spine.
Peter.
Anyways, I got out of the shower after a while. Woke up and the water was off. I probably bumped it or something. I got up, cleaned up the vomit, changed, and then took a real shower, without scalding water this time. I need to talk to the upkeep for this place about that. No good to have renters burn themselves in the shower. I was feeling much better, functioning normally, or as normally as I can. Going about the bathroom cleaning up later that night and I noticed something odd. My tile was missing. There was a few pieces of splintered tile, more dust than anything, and an empty square where the tile should have been. I wonder where it went. I don't think I removed it, but then again, when I was cleaning up the vomit I still wasn't completely functioning again. I just don't know why I would have removed it, or what I would have done with it. Sort of a little weird, it just going missing like that.
It wasn't until much later that I found it. I had just gotten home from work (replacing lightbulbs of all things), and after what had happened earlier in the day I didn't feel like hitting up the night clubs or bar hopping like I usually would do, roaming the streets in search of some form of entertainment, so I went to go lie down. I was in my bed when I found it.
Fastened somehow to the ceiling was my tile. Directly above my head. And in small, jittery handwriting directly beneath it was someone's name. I guessed it before I could even really read it, and chills ran up and down my spine.
Peter.
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