Title: Dualus
Chapter One: New Hires
Rating: PG-13
Length: Around 4k words.
Edits: Preliminary edit has been done. Now in cold storage for secondary edit and spell check.
Author's Notes: To follow.

( Click here for Dualus, Chapter One: New Hires )

I enjoy stories:

Where all protagonists are also antagonists.

About the fragility of relationships, particularly friendships.

About betrayal and revenge.

About unrequited love.

That are relevant and thought-provoking without being preachy or didactic.

With villians I love to hate.

Where someone is cross-dressing.

Where great power comes with great sacrifice, rather than great responsibility.

Where struggle and suffering is balanced with wit and humor.

With bittersweet endings.


This is the thing I wish to write.

I've been working on the "steampunk thing", and made some changes...definitely for the better. I've decided that the two warring countries (one Fascist and one Ultra-Religious) have just about exausted their energy resources when the aliens show up with their Advanced Technology. The aliens bring with them a couple of "floating islands" which make up the West Isles. They mete out energy and technology to the warring factions in a very measured manner, because they claim to not wish to take sides. In all actuality, the aliens are not as beneficent and peaceful as they lead the planet to believe. They're attempting to get the two warring sides to kill each other off, but want them to do the least amount of damage to the planet in the process (because, of course, the aliens want to take over the planet and live there). They are in the middle of their own war with the Lava People (the aliens are the Ice People), and need the planet as a strategic base.

Anyway, I had some great ideas about how the characters join forces to work together in the beginning (when they are young), but as they get older, their respective factions drive them apart, especially Alexandra and Matt.

Anyway, I have the first couple of mini-scenes written for that. It's got some humor, but also some dark bits.

I've also been mulling over a story about an AI. I'm absolutely fascinated by the "hybrid" on BSG, and how she babbles about random things. I'd love to write a story from the point of view of a computer program or AI of some sort, slowly becoming aware of itself. Perhaps even over several decades or centuries... I mean, there are lots of stories about AIs becoming self-aware, but I've never read one as told from the point of view of that AI. It seems like it would start as a garbled mess, with slow interjected phrases of pseudo-sentience, and go from there... An interesting challenge.

In some foreign country, there are men in fatigues stalking through the streets. They've got guns and they're going...somewhere. In the hazy distance, a massive tank passes between two crumbling buildings. Some reporter gets a shot of a pool of blood on the sidewalk, dripping into a filth-filled gutter, but there are no apparent victims to be found nearby. Silence litters the city, punctuated at intervals by sharp shots echoing between the stucco. Morse code. Bang. Bang bang. BANG BANG BANG.

Morse code of death.

The camera is a bit shaky. It pans up... Sky. Only sky. Then the briefest shot of planes. F-16s. Or maybe not. All fast-flying military planes are F-16s to me. Unless they are stealth bombers. Who knows? Panning back down, we see a shot of some wrinkled old woman in a head-scarf, crying and throwing her arms up in the air repeatedly, as if beseeching some deaf god for mercy.

There are not enough tears to mourn the dead. Not enough grief. Some have nobody left to care that they are gone. And maybe it's better that way. I don't know. I have no answers, no insight, no way to assuage the suffering of these people...or any people.

As I frown, my teacup clanks against the saucer a little too loudly. I look down to find that I've chipped the cup in my thoughtlessness. Ah well, everything breaks. News breaks. Bones break. Teacups...break.

Harold comes tromping through the living-room, shirtless, but with a towel on his head. "Why do you even watch, if it makes you so miserable?" He roots through the cabinets, steals -my- Cheez Nips, and heads for the back door without waiting for an answer. It's not like I would answer him anyway. I'm currently on my record for not-speaking. Fourteen days, six hours, and some-odd minutes.

"And you need to call the plumber!" The extra-sharp sssshhhhrrring of the glass door sliding closed does not escape my notice. Nonetheless, I merely lift up my cup and examine the bottom of it. No, no it's not at all in danger of leaking.

I suppose I should call the plumber. Especially if I want Harold to stop barging in here to bathe and use the toilet. To tell the truth, I sort of like the company. A little... Only a little.

It's nice to talk to people who give you encouragement, sometimes. Usually, I distrust praise and compliments. But, it was somehow nice to hear that jathomas thought highly of my writing. Especially when I think so very highly of his. It really gave me a wish to continue working on writing, instead of the usual thing I do...which is get interested in something else whenever a story becomes difficult. I need to try much harder than I have been trying, if ever I want to finish something again.

So anyway, Steampunky Thing. I thought I would scribble down some notes that have been floating in my brain.

Characters:

Ninava Prescott-Maple, aka Nine P.M. -- Afflicted from childhood with a disease similar to polio, she is now mostly confined to a wheelchair, though can walk with braces for short periods of time. Her rich parents are largely indulgent of her whims, causing her to grow up somewhat selfish and bossy. However, she also has a good side, in that she's very clever and wants to become a famous inventor like her father. She's sort of an anti-Nancy Drew type.

Emily Prescott-Maple -- Ninava's mother. A politician.

George Prescott-Maple -- Ninava's father. A famous inventor.

Roan Bells -- A refugee boy who managed to get the position of Ninava's caretaker by dressing up as a young woman. He's quite strong and idealistic, but somewhat uncultured and uneducated.

Trini -- Ninava's chauffeur and mechanic. From the mysterious "West Isles". She's in the "middle class' and is the only friend Ninava has ever really had. Wants to someday build luxury zeppelins. Kleptomaniac and easily star-struck.

James "Jimmy" Prescott aka Azaphael -- One of Ninava's cousins. Sort of a spooky-kid who believes in seances and ghosts and whatnot. A bit of a weakling and a "pansy", but very kind-hearted in his own way. Main hobby -- sewing.

Sebastian Haight -- Son of the Prescott-Maple neighbors. Sort of a womanizer and playboy, but that's just a cover for his boredom with society. He and Ninava are like sharp-clawed cats at each other. Flirts often with Roan to make Ninava jealous.

Alexander Haight -- Sebastian's chilly, anti-social, and reclusive twin-brother.

World:

The planet, Thera, holds three continents and a chain of island. One of the continents is a frozen wasteland. The other two continents are mostly at war with each other after continent A established a "homeland" for the Vannu on continent B. (Think Israel.) The Vannu worship Deius, the sky god. Continent A worships Oliran, the son of the sky god, associated with the soil. And Continent B worships Neris, the prophetess of the sky god, associated with water. The people of the West Isles have a religion somewhere between Buddhism and Animism.

Technology is highly prized as a pursuit, especially things which can be applied to the war effort. However, a focus on the war front has caused cities to become very London 1890s...polluted and filled with refugees, many of whom become sick off of the toxins in the factories or because of polluted water. There is also a high level of insanity, and many who come back from the war have to be put in asylums. Orphans abound and crime is rampant in most areas.

However, there are some good things. The government has made a special effort to put a radio in every home, even the poorest. Radio dramas are huge and provide inspiration to the masses. Basic education is free to all. And there are rumors that some of the new inventions, particularly those of George Prescott-Maple, may soon put an end to the war once and for all.

Anyway, that's all I've got for now. Should be fun to work on, I hope.

I wrote a bit yesterday, and while it wasn't remarkable, it wasn't completely horrible, either. I've been thinking in a steampunk direction. Some sort of collision of The Golden Compass, little Orphan Annie, and the Eyre Affair. With theme-elements from the Depression Era / WWII morphed with current events of Christians vs. Jews vs. Muslims. I suppose that's a lot of elements to mix, but there you go... There's no need to be ashamed of being inspired by this and that, as far as I can tell... We're all just giant pools, filled with the stories we have experienced. It's only natural to draw water from the nearest well.

On the Discovery Channel (or maybe it was History), they showed a program of what would happen if humans suddenly disappeared off of the planet. You know, that is so interesting. Within 10,000 years, there would be almost no trace of us. A few things would survive. The Pyramids, for example, will survive but will be buried under the dunes of the desert. It's somehow comforting to me that within such a short period of time, so very little could be left of what has been done here. Perhaps because it just goes to prove the futility of any biological imperatives, any creative whims whatsoever... Why do we have such a deep desire to leave our mark upon this world? Why do we strive and crave and search for some sort of cohesive "meaning" to our lives?

Anyway, I think I will write more on the steampunky thing today. It's about a working-class boy (who really is a girl) who gets a job as the caretaker of a spoiled, invalid girl (who happens to also be an aspiring inventor), and their friends and adventures in a war-torn land.

This was a story idea, though I also thought it would make a really good TV show. Okay, so...

At some unspecified time in the future, a girl wakes up to find that she's in a massive underground bunker with futuristic "pods" containing cryogenically frozen people. She has no idea who she is, or how she got there, but she manages to find instructions for waking the people up. One by one, she brings them out of stasis, but finds that many of them won't actually revive. Only about a dozen "wake-ups" are successful.

The people that are re-awoken are from different time periods starting from when cryogenics began and ranging 100 years in the future. Some of them immediately remember who they are. Others appear to have been struck with some sort of "thawing amnesia" which wears off slowly as time passes. Since they have little-to-no food, and the power appears to be rapidly failing, they decide to leave the bunker and begin to search for a way out.

The people encounter a large blast door with a timer on it. The timer seems to indicate that the door will open in 48 hours. The people use this time to explore the bunker for more food or indication of where/when they are. Some of them think that this might be far in the future, and are afraid of the door-opening because perhaps some terrible calamity has occured outside, like nuclear holocast or disease. Others hope that they will encounter a utopia on the outside or maybe aliens. Etc, etc.

When the door opens, the people find that they are in the wilderness, surrounded by mountains. There's a dirt road leading up into the mountains, but no vehicles, so they decide to hoof-it. The rest of the story is about their journey to find other humans and what has happened since they have been frozen.

Here are some potential characters:

1) The original girl who woke up. Perhaps she is some sort of android programmed to awaken when the fuel is running low in the bunker and wake everyone up. Except she doesn't -know- she's a computer, in that very Cylon sort of way.

2) An older couple who froze themselves while still alive. Maybe the woman had terminal cancer and the man didn't want to live without her, so they decided to both freeze themselves until science found a cure.

3) A religious fellow who was frozen by his family even though it was against his religion. (Perhaps he follows some interesting "future religion".)

4) Some sort of naturally-evolved human telepath who was frozen by scientists as a sort of "specimen".

5) Someone who looks very freaky, even alien-like, but has no recollection of who they are or why they look this way.

6) A person with schizophrenia or some other major psychosis.

7) A national hero or majorly famous person who is not remembered by anyone else in the group.

8) Someone mute and/or deaf who is like a bad-ass ninja-assassin type.

9) A housewife who dedicated her life to her family. But, not the family.

10) A science-type-nerd who is just WAY too positive about the situation, and very useful in coming up with solutions, but falls in love with #9 or perhaps #6 and is easily manipulated by them.

Anyway, that's the general idea. I think it would work good as a TV series. Sort of...Lost meets Futurama meets BSG. You know?

While going through old URLs and notes, I found the following cryptically scribbled:

Write a story about Hell's bartender.

Intriguing.

Title: Pawn Shop
Type: Short fiction.
Genre:Modern
Edits: First draft. Read-through edit. No spelling edit.

( In the small town of Buck Stop, Texas, a manipulative pawn shop owner confronts the issue of homosexuality. )

1) A story about a group of "whitewashers". The sort of people who are hired out to clean up someone's internet image. Be it a person, or a corporation, or politician... They change wiki entries, create false forum posts, make blogs...whatever is necessary to fix a scandalous reputation.

2) A story about a hardcore childfree person who is is constantly pestered by some bratty child in their neighborhood. They later see that child doing something highly dangerous, perhaps drowning or something? And since there is nobody around, they have a choice as to save the kid or not. Do they?

A private detective who makes money investigating online affairs, etc, in MMORPGs. A whole...virtual Sam Spade thing. Gibson-style.

"w00t" crowned word of year by U.S. dictionary:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20071212/od_nm/language_dc

I had some ideas I've been swishing around, but...

This person wrote them, and more cleverly than I could ever attempt.

1) Haute Couture Fashion Designers will begin offering lines of prosthetic limbs and replacement organs. This will lead to an era of chic limbless models and a propensity for young girls to idolize "sawing". The queen of the fashion models will be a quadruple amputee from Brazil named "Jatoba" who drives Chanel's line of "lacy tentacle arms".

2) All clothing will be flame-retardant, function as a floation device, consumable, self-repairing, will create and dispense whatever medications you've been prescribed (leaking them directly into your skin), and will have a genetic code which can be scanned in place of a credit card. Clothing will be grown from seed packets in a small device that looks a little like a microwave. Eventually, clothing will become sentient and go on strike, leaving millions nude.

3) Humans will continue a trend towards hairlessness as Global Warming continues. Most people will begin putting solar collector cells on their bald heads and shoulders to power their iPods, cellphones, censortrons* and personal space indicators.

* A censortron is obviously a headband which will cause holographic black bars to appear over anything the viewer would find inappropriate, and will mute any dialog/sounds the user would find offensive. These "reality modifications" would only be apparent to the wearer of the censortron, who can program their preferences using their computer at home.

What if reincarnation is Universal...and there are aliens?

It could mean that previous lives took place elsewhere...other solar systems, other planets. What if scientific advancement, or medical calamity, caused people to suddenly be able to access those former lives...what would come of it?

What if people started remembering how they farmed giant turnips on planet Vytkwik, scientific advancements from planet O17HFY, or the culture and philosophy of planet Turducken? What if people started killing themselves in order to space-travel...committing suicide on the chance that they'd be reincarnated on another planet?

And what about people who have never, just by chance, reincarnated from another planet? They've only ever lived on Earth, even in their past lives. Would they form some sort of highly-elitist hate-society?

Hmmmmmmmmm.

Yet another story idea.

Three years after the Global Warming Apocalypse, humanity's rescuers arrive in the form of aliens with FUTURE-AWESOME TECHNOLOGY. They agree to install Atmospheric Stabilizers, but only if every human being they rescue from the post-apocalyptic wasteland donates a pint of blood to them, every month. The aliens are blood-drinkers, you see. But, they're benevolent blood-drinkers. Humans who choose not to participate get to continue to live in sections of the earth which are still wasteland. Some sections of the story could include:

1) A rogue alien that doesn't wait his turn for his blood ration. No, he just goes crazy and starts eating people.

2) Sick humans, and whether or not they get to participate. Perhaps blood diseases are cultivated as "especially tasty"? Or maybe they're considered an impurity. Or both. Maybe some of the aliens are "religious" and won't eat anything diseased, even if it is "especially tasty".

3) The measures the aliens take to keep the ratio of aliens-to-humans low enough so that everyone has food.

4) What happens when the constantly-humming atmospheric-stabilizers jack with the humans so that they start drinking blood, too?

Endless possibilities.

Write a series of short stories themed after spam subjects. For instance, if the subject of a spam was "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TONIGHT?" then that would be the title/subject of your story.

I think I am going to participate this year. Except, I'm not going to join any communities about it. Nor am I going to write a novel. I think, instead, I'm going to see how many short stories I can come up with in thirty days. I think if I can manage ten stories, I should have enough to put together with stories I've already written to pad out a decent anthology of around sixteen stories of 8-15 pages each.

I have so much energy right now, I could probably actually do it.

But, anyway...if I seem scarce in the next month, I'm probably just off writing stuff. Whee.

Twisted like a cripple.

Misshapen.
...Desiccated.

Veins protruding grotesquely.

As lifeless a husk as
the lumbering, moaning mummy.

It scrapes along the sidewalk...

"Tsszzt. Tsssszzzt-t-t."

Ever closer to my door!

(As I'm peering
       wide-eyed
            through the peephole,
                  expecting strange and inhuman visitors.)

But, I never see it coming...

This solitary
       rust-colored
            dead autumn leaf.

                        Dry and discarded.
                        Scraping on concrete.
                        Blown by the wind.

Crushed underfoot.
By my small (gleeful) guests.