Times are tough, but I really love to read. I'll take the occasional splurge on a nice hardcover that I know I want to read, or that looks interesting. I actually bought Marissa Meyer's Cinder at the same time I bought The Hunger Games, and loved both.
But, alas, my school loans are in repayment right now, and it's a lot of money. I've got some nice savings I'd like to not dip too much into. Being frugal has led me to seek free ebooks by indie authors.
That led me to Stray by Andrea K. Höst, book one of the Touchstone Trilogy.
It was free, and it was awesome.
Stray begins with the main character, Cass, walking out of our world and to another one, unexpectedly. Using an empty diary she bought for a gift to record what's happening, Cass recounts the world she's in, the creatures that inhabit it, her attempts at survival, and eventual rescue by other humans who are more than they seem to be.
Once rescued, Cass doesn't get to return home, but though a series of events, discovers that she's much more than she ever knew herself to be. It's also a very funny book.
Host has built a very detailed, fascinating, and convincing world for her characters to inhabit, and made an alien world seem pretty comfortable, even when it's unusual. I read this book on my phone's Kindle app, mostly in line for a Black Friday sale laptop, and then a lot over that weekend. I honestly couldn't put it down, and I will be buying the sequels, Lab Rat One and Caszandra.
Even if you're not a teen, this book is fun, and as of the time of this post, is $0.00 in the Kindle Store. If you don't have a Kindle, that's cool. I don't either. I have the Kindle app on my computer, phone, and Google Nexus 7, because the app is free. If you're not a fan of Kindle or Amazon, it's also available here at Smashwords in a variety of formats and still wonderfully free.
Can't beat a good book for an awesome price like that.
But seriously, check out Stray by Andrea K. Höst.
Showing posts with label sci-fi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sci-fi. Show all posts
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
A Real Excerpt This Time!
Five minutes ago I opened this page to paste an excerpt from the novel. I chickened out.
Then I did it again anyway.
So here's a bit of the book. This part hasn't been fully edited, so don't jump on me quite yet. It's just actual proof that this is a real thing.
-----------
Anya tugged thick string that hung from the attic door. "I think there's some old albums up here." With a squeal of metal, the attic opened like a mouth in the ceiling.
"Why pictures?" Matt asked as she unfolded the ladder.
Anya climbed up. "Sometimes my family keeps more than pictures. Birth certificates and stuff, too. Maybe I'll find something. Maybe more letters."
The clatter of rain on the roof was louder up here, the dark room cooled off in the afternoon storm. The big windows let in the gray light.
A partly smushed cardboard box rested in the corner. The word "Pictures" was scrawled across the side in marker, now faded. She pulled it to a clear area on the floor and sat. Matt settled across the box from her.
The box hadn't been taped shut; rather, the four panels were tucked into each other. Anya pulled them apart, and they flipped open, flicking dust into the air. She coughed, and Matt sneezed.
"Oops," she said.
A layer of creased yellow tissue paper concealed the inside of the book from Anya's view. She pulled it away, carefully, and revealed an old photo album. The word Photographs in gold adorned the leather cover. Underneath where it had been in the box were more books, some a little newer, and newspapers lining the bottom.
"Nice find," Matt said.
Anya grinned. "Pretty cool. It might have something in it, at least." She pulled the book into her lap. She saw Matt move out of the corner of her eye as he sat beside her. The book felt dry in her hands, like the leather was about to crack. She pulled the cover open.
On the very first page an old black and white photo, yellowing at the white edges, showed a middle-aged man and his wife in front of a house, both smiling. In pencil, someone had scrawled "Pop and Mom" underneath the picture. A card with flowers printed on it was tucked into the crack of the spine.
"Think that's him?" Anya asked her friend.
"Could be," Matt said. "What's in that card?"
Anya picked it up and opened it. A short note in neat handwriting took up the inside.
"Elijah,
My parents had this picture of your mama and daddy at the house.
I thought you might like to have it. Please let me know if you find out
anything more concerning our conversation last week.
Best,
Mildred"
Anya read the note over again. "Who's Mildred?"
"Well, who's Elijah?" Matt answered.
"That one's easy," Anya said. "He's my great-grampa. Elijah Dupree, so Gavin's son."
"So that means his daughter is..." Matt trailed off.
"My granny." Anya cleared her throat. "She married a McCall." Anya placed the card back into the edge and carefully turned the page again. More pictures followed, all of them old and sepia toned or black and white. She paused on one of a little girl sitting on the same porch in the first photograph. A different hand had written "Jeannie" underneath. Anya smiled.
The rest of the pictures, of family dinners and days at the beach and one of her Granny dressed up and standing stiffly beside some boy, filled the remainder of the book. The last few pages were Christmas pictures, all of a tree in a living room. There was Jeannie again, a little older, and a few other young people. Anya's gaze paused on one detail of the photograph, a frame beside the tree. It didn't look like a picture, but there were words. She pointed at it.
"What do you think that is?" she said.
"Any pictures closer than that?" Matt asked.
Anya turned the page. "Might be." The rest of the photos were all of a Christmas tree, and all of Jeannie beside it, older each year. The frame appeared in each one, but the pictures varied in distance. The last photograph of the book was a group picture, with a much older Gavin Dupree seated in an armchair and surrounded by family. A few branches of the Christmas tree protruded into the edge of the photo, and the same frame in the other pictures hung above the chair, just over Jeannie's head. The words in the frame were a nonsense poem.
I'll sell you a riddle for a dime
said the bishop at the chime.
With tables and ravens and eggs on a wall
and diamonds and pennies and keys and all
the top of the tower pressed down to fall
my riddle is finished sir; what is your call?
Matt leaned in closer. "What is that?" he asked.
Anya frowned. "I think it's one of those sampler things." That poem doesn't make any sense... "Wonder what it means?"
Matt shrugged. "Maybe nothing?"
"Maybe," Anya said. "I mean, samplers like that were usually meant to just show off skills and stuff...Might be more, though. Some weird government code or something."
"Think whoever made it was crazy?" Matt asked with a smirk.
Anya laughed. "Maybe." Anya shut the book and peeked into the box at the rest of the stack. The yellowed newsprint caught her eye again. "Sweet, old newspapers." She hefted the remaining books and set them to the side before pulling the soft old paper into her lap. The date in the corner was March 3, 1972.
"Pioneer 10 Launched" read the headline in big letters.
"Cool," Matt said.
"Seriously." They quieted and read the article silently. The block of text took up half the front page, and at the end, in a tiny bit of dead space, were more words, handwritten.
It wasn't insanity. They found other stars first.
Anya blinked and looked at Matt. He met her gaze.
"What the heck does that mean?" she said.
"Are there any other pieces?" Matt asked.
"Nope." Anya let the paper slide to the attic floor. She reached for another album and pulled the cover open as Matt folded the paper. "Let's look through the rest of these," she said.
"Okay."
The photographs moved forward in time as they progressed through the books. One of the last ones even showed Anya as a little girl, sitting on a porch swing with one of her cousins. The embroidered sample appeared on the wall in several of the pictures, sometimes only a corner, but always in the pictures of that wall. The next to last picture showed a different room in color, the wood paneling on the walls lending a dimness to the scene of a family together, some in Christmas sweaters. The sampler was on this wall, too.
The last picture had the same room, same paneling, and some of the same people, older now, and a few new faces in the frame.
The sampler was gone. Not replaced by anything; the wall was empty.
She poked at the glossy paper. "It's gone."
"Maybe they moved it." Matt closed the book in his lap.
"Maybe." What did those words mean, and who wrote them? Anya sighed. "Do you know what time it is?"
Matt looked down at his watch. "Two o'clock."
She tilted her head. "Wanna go to the library with me?"
Matt shrugged. "Sure. What for?"
"Family research." Anya grinned and stuck the old newspaper back where it had rested for so long, then followed it with the stack of albums. "Might be some cool stuff." She stood.
"I still swear I've heard Dupree's name somewhere," Matt said as Anya backed down the ladder. "Not sure where, though."
Anya smiled. "Maybe we'll find out."
------------------------------
Rough, but an actual thing I'm pretty excited about. And editing now.
Then I did it again anyway.
So here's a bit of the book. This part hasn't been fully edited, so don't jump on me quite yet. It's just actual proof that this is a real thing.
-----------
Anya tugged thick string that hung from the attic door. "I think there's some old albums up here." With a squeal of metal, the attic opened like a mouth in the ceiling.
"Why pictures?" Matt asked as she unfolded the ladder.
Anya climbed up. "Sometimes my family keeps more than pictures. Birth certificates and stuff, too. Maybe I'll find something. Maybe more letters."
The clatter of rain on the roof was louder up here, the dark room cooled off in the afternoon storm. The big windows let in the gray light.
A partly smushed cardboard box rested in the corner. The word "Pictures" was scrawled across the side in marker, now faded. She pulled it to a clear area on the floor and sat. Matt settled across the box from her.
The box hadn't been taped shut; rather, the four panels were tucked into each other. Anya pulled them apart, and they flipped open, flicking dust into the air. She coughed, and Matt sneezed.
"Oops," she said.
A layer of creased yellow tissue paper concealed the inside of the book from Anya's view. She pulled it away, carefully, and revealed an old photo album. The word Photographs in gold adorned the leather cover. Underneath where it had been in the box were more books, some a little newer, and newspapers lining the bottom.
"Nice find," Matt said.
Anya grinned. "Pretty cool. It might have something in it, at least." She pulled the book into her lap. She saw Matt move out of the corner of her eye as he sat beside her. The book felt dry in her hands, like the leather was about to crack. She pulled the cover open.
On the very first page an old black and white photo, yellowing at the white edges, showed a middle-aged man and his wife in front of a house, both smiling. In pencil, someone had scrawled "Pop and Mom" underneath the picture. A card with flowers printed on it was tucked into the crack of the spine.
"Think that's him?" Anya asked her friend.
"Could be," Matt said. "What's in that card?"
Anya picked it up and opened it. A short note in neat handwriting took up the inside.
"Elijah,
My parents had this picture of your mama and daddy at the house.
I thought you might like to have it. Please let me know if you find out
anything more concerning our conversation last week.
Best,
Mildred"
Anya read the note over again. "Who's Mildred?"
"Well, who's Elijah?" Matt answered.
"That one's easy," Anya said. "He's my great-grampa. Elijah Dupree, so Gavin's son."
"So that means his daughter is..." Matt trailed off.
"My granny." Anya cleared her throat. "She married a McCall." Anya placed the card back into the edge and carefully turned the page again. More pictures followed, all of them old and sepia toned or black and white. She paused on one of a little girl sitting on the same porch in the first photograph. A different hand had written "Jeannie" underneath. Anya smiled.
The rest of the pictures, of family dinners and days at the beach and one of her Granny dressed up and standing stiffly beside some boy, filled the remainder of the book. The last few pages were Christmas pictures, all of a tree in a living room. There was Jeannie again, a little older, and a few other young people. Anya's gaze paused on one detail of the photograph, a frame beside the tree. It didn't look like a picture, but there were words. She pointed at it.
"What do you think that is?" she said.
"Any pictures closer than that?" Matt asked.
Anya turned the page. "Might be." The rest of the photos were all of a Christmas tree, and all of Jeannie beside it, older each year. The frame appeared in each one, but the pictures varied in distance. The last photograph of the book was a group picture, with a much older Gavin Dupree seated in an armchair and surrounded by family. A few branches of the Christmas tree protruded into the edge of the photo, and the same frame in the other pictures hung above the chair, just over Jeannie's head. The words in the frame were a nonsense poem.
I'll sell you a riddle for a dime
said the bishop at the chime.
With tables and ravens and eggs on a wall
and diamonds and pennies and keys and all
the top of the tower pressed down to fall
my riddle is finished sir; what is your call?
Matt leaned in closer. "What is that?" he asked.
Anya frowned. "I think it's one of those sampler things." That poem doesn't make any sense... "Wonder what it means?"
Matt shrugged. "Maybe nothing?"
"Maybe," Anya said. "I mean, samplers like that were usually meant to just show off skills and stuff...Might be more, though. Some weird government code or something."
"Think whoever made it was crazy?" Matt asked with a smirk.
Anya laughed. "Maybe." Anya shut the book and peeked into the box at the rest of the stack. The yellowed newsprint caught her eye again. "Sweet, old newspapers." She hefted the remaining books and set them to the side before pulling the soft old paper into her lap. The date in the corner was March 3, 1972.
"Pioneer 10 Launched" read the headline in big letters.
"Cool," Matt said.
"Seriously." They quieted and read the article silently. The block of text took up half the front page, and at the end, in a tiny bit of dead space, were more words, handwritten.
It wasn't insanity. They found other stars first.
Anya blinked and looked at Matt. He met her gaze.
"What the heck does that mean?" she said.
"Are there any other pieces?" Matt asked.
"Nope." Anya let the paper slide to the attic floor. She reached for another album and pulled the cover open as Matt folded the paper. "Let's look through the rest of these," she said.
"Okay."
The photographs moved forward in time as they progressed through the books. One of the last ones even showed Anya as a little girl, sitting on a porch swing with one of her cousins. The embroidered sample appeared on the wall in several of the pictures, sometimes only a corner, but always in the pictures of that wall. The next to last picture showed a different room in color, the wood paneling on the walls lending a dimness to the scene of a family together, some in Christmas sweaters. The sampler was on this wall, too.
The last picture had the same room, same paneling, and some of the same people, older now, and a few new faces in the frame.
The sampler was gone. Not replaced by anything; the wall was empty.
She poked at the glossy paper. "It's gone."
"Maybe they moved it." Matt closed the book in his lap.
"Maybe." What did those words mean, and who wrote them? Anya sighed. "Do you know what time it is?"
Matt looked down at his watch. "Two o'clock."
She tilted her head. "Wanna go to the library with me?"
Matt shrugged. "Sure. What for?"
"Family research." Anya grinned and stuck the old newspaper back where it had rested for so long, then followed it with the stack of albums. "Might be some cool stuff." She stood.
"I still swear I've heard Dupree's name somewhere," Matt said as Anya backed down the ladder. "Not sure where, though."
Anya smiled. "Maybe we'll find out."
------------------------------
Rough, but an actual thing I'm pretty excited about. And editing now.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Titles and Covers and Elves, Oh My...
I hate sci-fi and fantasy.
I'm a hypocrite. I know.
I didn't really realize this until sort of recently. Like last week*
Now let me back up a bit. I obviously don't actually hate the genres as a whole. They really are the most interesting to me. I love the Harry Potter books, liked Twilight, have published a small collection of short sci-fi stories, and am currently working on a novel with its roots in fantasy and its leaves in the stars. That's not hate, but I'm really good about making overstatements.
So last week. I was at the library, poking around and looking for something to read that would satisfy my very picky nature. (I ended up getting Absolute Midnight by Clive Barker, which I know I probably won't finish, and The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, which I really liked. When they do the movie, Alan Rickman needs to play Silas. So anyway.) I had read something on io9.com about a couple of books that looked to be hard sci-fi. The second one had lovely cover art, and it was newer, and the library had it. I figured I should start with the first, so I found it on the shelf and took a look at the inside of the cover.
It took me about two seconds to slide it back on.
Why?
The blurb was way too freaking long.
While that sentence makes me sound, well, lacking, I have a valid reason for thinking that. This book's description, coupled with cover art that reminded me of bad mass-market sci-fi coupled with Harlequin romance, only if the characters were electronics instead of people, were a major turnoff.
I didn't need to read the whole plot of the book on the cover. It didn't tease me or invite me in at all. The art was, eh, about as interesting as my microwave with its broken turntable (so not much.) The length of the blurb threatened to tell the entire story. Suddenly the novel became a hard sci-fi infobook.
I don't read textbooks anymore. I barely read them in college.
Worst part was, this was done by a publishing house. I'd react the same way with the fantasy books at the library. All of them will have an elf, or bow with arrows, or a leather bikini, or maybe a centaur. Possibly a blatant ripoff of hobbits. All that is pretty much why I avoid high fantasy like the plague. Yeah, this makes it really hard for me to describe with any helpful accuracy what sort of books I like to read.
Well first, it has to be attractive. There are a lot of movies that I haven't seen (and most likely won't) for the simple reason is that they just didn't look that interesting. I really could not care less how they "made you think about...life." Uhm, well, yeah. A lot of movies do. First time I saw The Matrix, I was a little freaked out for a couple days. Not from the movie. It's still one of my faves. But just because I sat in Geometry class wondering if my pencil was real, doesn't mean it's a cinematic masterpiece. It was just a fun movie, and it got my attention.
Second, it has to entertain. If a book goes on incessantly about the politics and religious practices of vampire elves living in a 23rd century version of New York on a distant planet, I don't care if the setting is really cool, I'm done if there's no plot. Even the most interesting characters are boring if nothing ever happens to them. Pride and Prejudice didn't get popular because Lizzy Bennett spent the book pondering life while working as a waitress. It has an actual plot.
So writers, if you've chosen the self-publishing route, as many including myself have, you're gonna be doing a lot on your own, unless you want to hire some talented friends. This means cover design, and blurbs, and all that.
Please make it interesting. Deign to use a one-word title if it keeps things mysterious. Get a friend to read your book and help you if you need to. Avoid long plot summaries. Good food isn't interesting because the person eating it is full from consuming the meal. It's interesting because it smells good and teases the eater.
Be a tease. Leave a lot to the imagination.
You may find you sell more books that way.
*This happened longer ago than a week. Several weeks. I just remembered I had this post.
I'm a hypocrite. I know.
I didn't really realize this until sort of recently. Like last week*
Now let me back up a bit. I obviously don't actually hate the genres as a whole. They really are the most interesting to me. I love the Harry Potter books, liked Twilight, have published a small collection of short sci-fi stories, and am currently working on a novel with its roots in fantasy and its leaves in the stars. That's not hate, but I'm really good about making overstatements.
So last week. I was at the library, poking around and looking for something to read that would satisfy my very picky nature. (I ended up getting Absolute Midnight by Clive Barker, which I know I probably won't finish, and The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, which I really liked. When they do the movie, Alan Rickman needs to play Silas. So anyway.) I had read something on io9.com about a couple of books that looked to be hard sci-fi. The second one had lovely cover art, and it was newer, and the library had it. I figured I should start with the first, so I found it on the shelf and took a look at the inside of the cover.
It took me about two seconds to slide it back on.
Why?
The blurb was way too freaking long.
While that sentence makes me sound, well, lacking, I have a valid reason for thinking that. This book's description, coupled with cover art that reminded me of bad mass-market sci-fi coupled with Harlequin romance, only if the characters were electronics instead of people, were a major turnoff.
I didn't need to read the whole plot of the book on the cover. It didn't tease me or invite me in at all. The art was, eh, about as interesting as my microwave with its broken turntable (so not much.) The length of the blurb threatened to tell the entire story. Suddenly the novel became a hard sci-fi infobook.
I don't read textbooks anymore. I barely read them in college.
Worst part was, this was done by a publishing house. I'd react the same way with the fantasy books at the library. All of them will have an elf, or bow with arrows, or a leather bikini, or maybe a centaur. Possibly a blatant ripoff of hobbits. All that is pretty much why I avoid high fantasy like the plague. Yeah, this makes it really hard for me to describe with any helpful accuracy what sort of books I like to read.
Well first, it has to be attractive. There are a lot of movies that I haven't seen (and most likely won't) for the simple reason is that they just didn't look that interesting. I really could not care less how they "made you think about...life." Uhm, well, yeah. A lot of movies do. First time I saw The Matrix, I was a little freaked out for a couple days. Not from the movie. It's still one of my faves. But just because I sat in Geometry class wondering if my pencil was real, doesn't mean it's a cinematic masterpiece. It was just a fun movie, and it got my attention.
Second, it has to entertain. If a book goes on incessantly about the politics and religious practices of vampire elves living in a 23rd century version of New York on a distant planet, I don't care if the setting is really cool, I'm done if there's no plot. Even the most interesting characters are boring if nothing ever happens to them. Pride and Prejudice didn't get popular because Lizzy Bennett spent the book pondering life while working as a waitress. It has an actual plot.
So writers, if you've chosen the self-publishing route, as many including myself have, you're gonna be doing a lot on your own, unless you want to hire some talented friends. This means cover design, and blurbs, and all that.
Please make it interesting. Deign to use a one-word title if it keeps things mysterious. Get a friend to read your book and help you if you need to. Avoid long plot summaries. Good food isn't interesting because the person eating it is full from consuming the meal. It's interesting because it smells good and teases the eater.
Be a tease. Leave a lot to the imagination.
You may find you sell more books that way.
*This happened longer ago than a week. Several weeks. I just remembered I had this post.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Horror Vacui: Short Story Collection I Wrote
And here I present a short story collection that I've written. Most of it was practice, from dialog rolling around in my head. It's more character centric, though it is sci-fi. I suppose you could say it's about interactions that fill the empty spaces.
The picture is a link, but if you have some trouble with it, click here to get to the book. It's only 99 cents on Kindle, and the Kindle app is free to download. I hope you enjoy it.
The picture is a link, but if you have some trouble with it, click here to get to the book. It's only 99 cents on Kindle, and the Kindle app is free to download. I hope you enjoy it.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Sentience: Part 8
Part 8, for your enjoyment.
Sentience Part 1
Sentience Part 2
Sentience Part 3
Sentience Part 4
Sentience Part 5
Sentience Part 6
Sentience Part 7
***********************
He thought it must have been afternoon when Marie sat up from the couch, looking dazed.
He hesitated for a moment. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible," she said, then focused on a clock. "Oh no. I gotta go." She stood, slowly, leaning on the couch. "I gotta get off world yesterday."
"Where do you need me to take you?"
She looked harried for a moment. "Look, if we can just get to your car, I'll put the address down. Let's just go.
A whistle rang out, and an explosion shook the building. Marie sat down hard on the couch again, and Macon ran to his bedroom.
The wall was damaged. He ran to the window, yanked it open,and looked out.
The apartment next door was damaged, or gone, probably. He rushed back into the living room.
"Are your neighbors...?" Marie stopped, swallowiing hard. She looked sick.
He let out a bitter laugh. "Don't have any on either side. I wouldn't be living here if I did. They're aiming for us." He grabbed a backpack and his tablet and ran to Marie. She stood.
"I'm fine," she snapped. "Let's go."
He grabbed her hand anyway and yanked her out the door of his apartment and forward down the hall to the stairwell. Parts of the flooring were blown apart. The inhabitants of the rest of the floor were rushing out too. Someone was screaming. A stench in the air turned his stomach, and he refused to think about its source.
Other parts of the building were on fire, and the crush of people trying to get out if they could was overwhelming. Finally, they made it into the free air. Ambulances, a few news vans, and scores of citizens stared upward at the building.
Macon stopped for just a moment. Too many people. If they ran, they'd be seen, but if they didn't leave right now, he knew what would happen.
He took off to the right, yanking the woman after him. She ran without comment, following him to the parking garage. No use staying around and playing innocent.
Rising panic made his heart pound, and the moments passed in a blur. Door open, buckle the seat belt, ignition, back out.
He was on the road now. He looked over at Marie. Her face was white. He pushed the accelerator gently, wishing it would do as much good as he wanted. He missed the tug and pull of friction on tires. He indulged in a moment of remembering a far away time, when he'd driven a classic, back at home.
They drove on.
Sentience Part 1
Sentience Part 2
Sentience Part 3
Sentience Part 4
Sentience Part 5
Sentience Part 6
Sentience Part 7
***********************
He thought it must have been afternoon when Marie sat up from the couch, looking dazed.
He hesitated for a moment. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible," she said, then focused on a clock. "Oh no. I gotta go." She stood, slowly, leaning on the couch. "I gotta get off world yesterday."
"Where do you need me to take you?"
She looked harried for a moment. "Look, if we can just get to your car, I'll put the address down. Let's just go.
A whistle rang out, and an explosion shook the building. Marie sat down hard on the couch again, and Macon ran to his bedroom.
The wall was damaged. He ran to the window, yanked it open,and looked out.
The apartment next door was damaged, or gone, probably. He rushed back into the living room.
"Are your neighbors...?" Marie stopped, swallowiing hard. She looked sick.
He let out a bitter laugh. "Don't have any on either side. I wouldn't be living here if I did. They're aiming for us." He grabbed a backpack and his tablet and ran to Marie. She stood.
"I'm fine," she snapped. "Let's go."
He grabbed her hand anyway and yanked her out the door of his apartment and forward down the hall to the stairwell. Parts of the flooring were blown apart. The inhabitants of the rest of the floor were rushing out too. Someone was screaming. A stench in the air turned his stomach, and he refused to think about its source.
Other parts of the building were on fire, and the crush of people trying to get out if they could was overwhelming. Finally, they made it into the free air. Ambulances, a few news vans, and scores of citizens stared upward at the building.
Macon stopped for just a moment. Too many people. If they ran, they'd be seen, but if they didn't leave right now, he knew what would happen.
He took off to the right, yanking the woman after him. She ran without comment, following him to the parking garage. No use staying around and playing innocent.
Rising panic made his heart pound, and the moments passed in a blur. Door open, buckle the seat belt, ignition, back out.
He was on the road now. He looked over at Marie. Her face was white. He pushed the accelerator gently, wishing it would do as much good as he wanted. He missed the tug and pull of friction on tires. He indulged in a moment of remembering a far away time, when he'd driven a classic, back at home.
They drove on.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Sentience Part 7
And after quite a hiatus...the seventh part of Sentience.
Sentience Part 1
Sentience Part 2
Sentience Part 3
Sentience Part 4
Sentience Part 5
Sentience Part 6
*****************
Macon watched as Marie dropped her shoulder bag onto the floor beside the couch. "Can I just go ahead and get some sleep now?"
"Sure." He glanced around, feeling awkward, glad the shades were closed. Glad for some reason. "How's your head?"
She sat on the couch and shrugged. "I really won't know until I can find a doctor, but it hurts a lot and I feel sick."
"I'm sorry." He clenched and unclenced one fist. "Would it be alright if did some work right over there in the kitchen? Just in case?"
"I'm not gonna steal anything," the girl replied, her voiced muffled by a pillow.
"No, I meant I don't want to be closed off in a closet if someone were to bust in here."
"Whatever makes you feel better." She let out a huff of air. "Now please let me take a nap."
He started to reply, but thought better of it and stepped away to grab his tablet.
His cell phone buzzed. He gulped, feeling nauseous again, and pulled it out of his pocket, hoping it was the normal use one. The fake cell phone, the mask he used.
He knew when his fingers touched it that the small, plain thing was his oversight. He should have gotten rid of it when he could.
They'd be able to find it just because he had it. That was easy for them. He debated answering and just lying. It might buy them time, but he didn't want to leave Marie here and he most definitely didn't want to meet these people anywhere. Not now.
So he turned the phone off and crushed it under his foot.
He turned on the tablet and sat at the kitchen table, doodling idly. The cartoons he drew were cathartic, and he knew they were decent. Any other time, he'd be working on one. It was long due for an update, he knew, but he had no inspiration. He'd do it later, find some way to put it up, wherever he ran, in defiance of these ruthless people he'd become far to connected to.
He waited as the sliver of light visible between the shades changed and dimmed as the sunlight moved ever on to it's setting point.
Restless didn't even begin to describe it.
Sentience Part 1
Sentience Part 2
Sentience Part 3
Sentience Part 4
Sentience Part 5
Sentience Part 6
*****************
Macon watched as Marie dropped her shoulder bag onto the floor beside the couch. "Can I just go ahead and get some sleep now?"
"Sure." He glanced around, feeling awkward, glad the shades were closed. Glad for some reason. "How's your head?"
She sat on the couch and shrugged. "I really won't know until I can find a doctor, but it hurts a lot and I feel sick."
"I'm sorry." He clenched and unclenced one fist. "Would it be alright if did some work right over there in the kitchen? Just in case?"
"I'm not gonna steal anything," the girl replied, her voiced muffled by a pillow.
"No, I meant I don't want to be closed off in a closet if someone were to bust in here."
"Whatever makes you feel better." She let out a huff of air. "Now please let me take a nap."
He started to reply, but thought better of it and stepped away to grab his tablet.
His cell phone buzzed. He gulped, feeling nauseous again, and pulled it out of his pocket, hoping it was the normal use one. The fake cell phone, the mask he used.
He knew when his fingers touched it that the small, plain thing was his oversight. He should have gotten rid of it when he could.
They'd be able to find it just because he had it. That was easy for them. He debated answering and just lying. It might buy them time, but he didn't want to leave Marie here and he most definitely didn't want to meet these people anywhere. Not now.
So he turned the phone off and crushed it under his foot.
He turned on the tablet and sat at the kitchen table, doodling idly. The cartoons he drew were cathartic, and he knew they were decent. Any other time, he'd be working on one. It was long due for an update, he knew, but he had no inspiration. He'd do it later, find some way to put it up, wherever he ran, in defiance of these ruthless people he'd become far to connected to.
He waited as the sliver of light visible between the shades changed and dimmed as the sunlight moved ever on to it's setting point.
Restless didn't even begin to describe it.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Sentience Part 6
It's been a while since I've been able to come back to this story. It is time consuming, but look forward to an installment of "Sentience" every week until it's finished. For your convenience, I've included links to the first five parts of the story. Enjoy.
Sentience Part 1
Sentience Part 2
Sentience Part 3
Sentience Part 4
Sentience Part 5
***********************
He stared, not seeing the windshield, not daring to glance at the thing-woman-beside him. He caught her movements out of the corner of his eye. One hand moved around the opposite wrist in a slow orbit, wrapping a bandage over the newly sealed wound. She spoke.
"Who are your employers?" she asked.
He swallowed hard and told her the name of the company.
"They said they made you," Macon said. "They said you malfunctioned and posed a threat."
She snorted. "They would." She leaned her head against the back of her seat. "I worked for them. I found some documents that I don't think I was supposed to see."
Macon took a deep breath, feeling sick. "I believed them."
Marie rolled her eyes, then winced. "Ow."
"I'm sorry."
She waved a hand. "Don't worry about it...just a headache."
"They'll be looking for you now," he said. "I was supposed to bring your...remains back."
Marie closed her eyes. "That's what I was afraid of." She looked through the tinted back window. "I need to get out of here."
"The car?"
She shook her head. "Off-world, somewhere. Anywhere. Wherever I can go." She laughed bitterly. "Guess I better pack."
Macon looked down at the steering wheel. All he could do was help. Now he was involved. Responsible. "I'll take you to your apartment. If you need somewhere to stay, I've got a couch."
Marie smirked. "Thanks."
"No problem," he said as he started the car again.
--------------
They stared together at the orange glow that had been Marie's apartment building. The other tenants stood outside, milling about, many of them in pajamas and consoling crying children. The flames danced weirdly in the gray morning, the smoke darkening the sky.
Macon flicked on the radio.
"Officials are unsure how the fire began but the origin has been traced to one apartment and thought to be the result of problematic wiring. Fire crews managed to rescue all of the residents but one, Marie Boyette. Her apartment was the origin of the fire. She did not make it out before flames consumed the building."
She switched off the radio. "So...I'm officially dead now."
Macon frowned. "I guess so."
Marie studied her fingernails. "You mentioned a couch I could crash on?"
"Yeah," he said. "Let's get out of here."
Sentience Part 1
Sentience Part 2
Sentience Part 3
Sentience Part 4
Sentience Part 5
***********************
He stared, not seeing the windshield, not daring to glance at the thing-woman-beside him. He caught her movements out of the corner of his eye. One hand moved around the opposite wrist in a slow orbit, wrapping a bandage over the newly sealed wound. She spoke.
"Who are your employers?" she asked.
He swallowed hard and told her the name of the company.
"They said they made you," Macon said. "They said you malfunctioned and posed a threat."
She snorted. "They would." She leaned her head against the back of her seat. "I worked for them. I found some documents that I don't think I was supposed to see."
Macon took a deep breath, feeling sick. "I believed them."
Marie rolled her eyes, then winced. "Ow."
"I'm sorry."
She waved a hand. "Don't worry about it...just a headache."
"They'll be looking for you now," he said. "I was supposed to bring your...remains back."
Marie closed her eyes. "That's what I was afraid of." She looked through the tinted back window. "I need to get out of here."
"The car?"
She shook her head. "Off-world, somewhere. Anywhere. Wherever I can go." She laughed bitterly. "Guess I better pack."
Macon looked down at the steering wheel. All he could do was help. Now he was involved. Responsible. "I'll take you to your apartment. If you need somewhere to stay, I've got a couch."
Marie smirked. "Thanks."
"No problem," he said as he started the car again.
--------------
They stared together at the orange glow that had been Marie's apartment building. The other tenants stood outside, milling about, many of them in pajamas and consoling crying children. The flames danced weirdly in the gray morning, the smoke darkening the sky.
Macon flicked on the radio.
"Officials are unsure how the fire began but the origin has been traced to one apartment and thought to be the result of problematic wiring. Fire crews managed to rescue all of the residents but one, Marie Boyette. Her apartment was the origin of the fire. She did not make it out before flames consumed the building."
She switched off the radio. "So...I'm officially dead now."
Macon frowned. "I guess so."
Marie studied her fingernails. "You mentioned a couch I could crash on?"
"Yeah," he said. "Let's get out of here."
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Sentience: Part 4
After a long hiatus, here is the fourth part of Sentience. Enjoy.
-------
He had read the documents again, carefully. The address given where the machine resided. It was an apartment, a cheap one, in a care-worn part of the city. Trash here and there, the typical scenery, a contrast to the stark cleanliness, and far from the central city, and quiet.
5:00 A.M. The customer had called two hours ago, demanding the machine, sooner as opposed to the later option that brought more threats.
There was no one to threaten close to him. But the thought of disappearing, with no contact, no message, only a cold and indifferent notice to his faraway family, however estranged they were, got his attention. Marie the robot would have to be destroyed. Escape was the option afterwards. He'd disappear then.
The door to the apartment complex opened, the only movement for three blocks. He watched.
It was her.
Not her...it's not a human.
It would recognize him, and he may not have time to find the switch to turn it off before he did the job. He'd have to move fast. He had locks in the car only he could control.
He stepped out of the car and approached the machine. It was searching in a bag, and glanced up as he reached it. It didn't move.
"Are you stalking me now?" It took one step back. Frederick hit the button on the control in his hand that opened the passenger door of his car and grabbed the machine's arm, gripping it, caught off-guard for a moment. It was soft, without the quiet mechanic buzzing usually present in computers and appliances. The technology was impressive. He forgot this as she began to fight him, kicking at his legs and trying to beat him over the head with her free hand. She wasn't fast at all, or strong. He dragged it back to the car, tuning out the screaming and pushing its head against the door frame. It hadn't been able to fight him off.
"Ow!" He expected the clank of metal, not the convincing thunk of tissue. He shoved the convincing machine into the car and walked around to the driver side. He could hear the thing inside the car, beating on the windows and metal and plastic, and hoped it didn't break something. He got in himself, sighing.
It turned to look at him, its false eyes slightly glazed and its hand rubbing its scalp, a tremor in its motion, probably from some minor scrambling in its head. "What did you do that for?"
"I'm sorry."
"No you aren't. Let me out of here." It was panicking now.
"I'm sorry, but I can't." His needs were important. This thing was good, this machine. It sounded like it was close to tears. Maybe it didn't even know it was a machine, like in some Earth drama from years back.
"Why?"
"...I'll let you know later." He accelerated down the street, going slow. Being pulled over would not help the situation. His heart was racing.
What was he about to do to?
---------------
That's all for today, but we'll be back soon with more, so tune in again.
-------
He had read the documents again, carefully. The address given where the machine resided. It was an apartment, a cheap one, in a care-worn part of the city. Trash here and there, the typical scenery, a contrast to the stark cleanliness, and far from the central city, and quiet.
5:00 A.M. The customer had called two hours ago, demanding the machine, sooner as opposed to the later option that brought more threats.
There was no one to threaten close to him. But the thought of disappearing, with no contact, no message, only a cold and indifferent notice to his faraway family, however estranged they were, got his attention. Marie the robot would have to be destroyed. Escape was the option afterwards. He'd disappear then.
The door to the apartment complex opened, the only movement for three blocks. He watched.
It was her.
Not her...it's not a human.
It would recognize him, and he may not have time to find the switch to turn it off before he did the job. He'd have to move fast. He had locks in the car only he could control.
He stepped out of the car and approached the machine. It was searching in a bag, and glanced up as he reached it. It didn't move.
"Are you stalking me now?" It took one step back. Frederick hit the button on the control in his hand that opened the passenger door of his car and grabbed the machine's arm, gripping it, caught off-guard for a moment. It was soft, without the quiet mechanic buzzing usually present in computers and appliances. The technology was impressive. He forgot this as she began to fight him, kicking at his legs and trying to beat him over the head with her free hand. She wasn't fast at all, or strong. He dragged it back to the car, tuning out the screaming and pushing its head against the door frame. It hadn't been able to fight him off.
"Ow!" He expected the clank of metal, not the convincing thunk of tissue. He shoved the convincing machine into the car and walked around to the driver side. He could hear the thing inside the car, beating on the windows and metal and plastic, and hoped it didn't break something. He got in himself, sighing.
It turned to look at him, its false eyes slightly glazed and its hand rubbing its scalp, a tremor in its motion, probably from some minor scrambling in its head. "What did you do that for?"
"I'm sorry."
"No you aren't. Let me out of here." It was panicking now.
"I'm sorry, but I can't." His needs were important. This thing was good, this machine. It sounded like it was close to tears. Maybe it didn't even know it was a machine, like in some Earth drama from years back.
"Why?"
"...I'll let you know later." He accelerated down the street, going slow. Being pulled over would not help the situation. His heart was racing.
What was he about to do to?
---------------
That's all for today, but we'll be back soon with more, so tune in again.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Sentience Part 3
Here's part 3 of Sentience. It's a bit short, but this part is where the story begins to pick up. Enjoy!
**************
His tablet was starting to lose power, and he'd read most of the interesting articles by now anyway. With a sigh, he slipped it into his pack and stared at his shoes, glancing up every few seconds to watch the passersby. He pretended to search his pockets when he glanced up. A figure in simple clothing walked down the street, not slowly, not quickly. Her red-brown hair was covered by a hat. As he watched, it became evident that her clothing was a uniform of some sort, probably for one of the shops nearby. He did not look away.
Frederick found himself looking into the eyes that were neither gray nor blue, just for an instant. Her-its- eyebrows rose, it looked away, and Frederick dropped his gaze. It was walking more quickly now. He kept watching. The machine was thinking. Learning. It knew, and it turned into the entrance of a department store. The automatic doors slid open, and Marie the machine was gone.
He stood. He had to follow her; no question, and now if he was to ever catch her. He stood, walking quickly to the department store and in. Marie was disappearing up the glass elevator. It was facing away from the door, but he followed up the antiquated staircase that stood in the middle of the store, running. The robot stopped at the third floor and got off, walking toward some tall clothing racks. Frederick kept after it, and it directed a quick glance behind, and he knew he'd been seen.
"Excuse me!" He called to her-it- as she sped up. "Ma'am...excuse me!" He caught up to it, grabbing the upper arm.
The reaction was fast. It spun around and slapped him across his face.
"Leave me alone, creeper." The android pulled away and kept going, seeming panicked.
Frederick was only shocked for a second. He collected himself and fished in his pocket for the strong magnets he'd brought. This would disable it for sometime, if not fry something. He hurled them, connecting solidly with the back of the torso area, the cranium, and the neck.
"Ow!" Marie spun around, then came closer. "Look, I have no idea why you're throwing junk at me, but leave me alone or I'll find out who you are and call the police. Just...go away, freak."
It stalked to the stairs and ran down them, going out the door. Frederick watched as she turned neither right nor left. Other customers were watching. Silently, he collected the magnets. For today, he'd lost Marie the robot, and he'd have to go back to his apartment for more ideas. Fear raced up his spine.
This job he knew had to be done.
**************
His tablet was starting to lose power, and he'd read most of the interesting articles by now anyway. With a sigh, he slipped it into his pack and stared at his shoes, glancing up every few seconds to watch the passersby. He pretended to search his pockets when he glanced up. A figure in simple clothing walked down the street, not slowly, not quickly. Her red-brown hair was covered by a hat. As he watched, it became evident that her clothing was a uniform of some sort, probably for one of the shops nearby. He did not look away.
Frederick found himself looking into the eyes that were neither gray nor blue, just for an instant. Her-its- eyebrows rose, it looked away, and Frederick dropped his gaze. It was walking more quickly now. He kept watching. The machine was thinking. Learning. It knew, and it turned into the entrance of a department store. The automatic doors slid open, and Marie the machine was gone.
He stood. He had to follow her; no question, and now if he was to ever catch her. He stood, walking quickly to the department store and in. Marie was disappearing up the glass elevator. It was facing away from the door, but he followed up the antiquated staircase that stood in the middle of the store, running. The robot stopped at the third floor and got off, walking toward some tall clothing racks. Frederick kept after it, and it directed a quick glance behind, and he knew he'd been seen.
"Excuse me!" He called to her-it- as she sped up. "Ma'am...excuse me!" He caught up to it, grabbing the upper arm.
The reaction was fast. It spun around and slapped him across his face.
"Leave me alone, creeper." The android pulled away and kept going, seeming panicked.
Frederick was only shocked for a second. He collected himself and fished in his pocket for the strong magnets he'd brought. This would disable it for sometime, if not fry something. He hurled them, connecting solidly with the back of the torso area, the cranium, and the neck.
"Ow!" Marie spun around, then came closer. "Look, I have no idea why you're throwing junk at me, but leave me alone or I'll find out who you are and call the police. Just...go away, freak."
It stalked to the stairs and ran down them, going out the door. Frederick watched as she turned neither right nor left. Other customers were watching. Silently, he collected the magnets. For today, he'd lost Marie the robot, and he'd have to go back to his apartment for more ideas. Fear raced up his spine.
This job he knew had to be done.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Part 2 of Sentience...and Some Apologies for It Being A Little Late...
Okay, here's part two. Enjoy. Here's Part 1 if you missed it.
*********
Chapter 2: Job
Frederick sat in his room, waiting for his other computer to start up. In seconds, the lightweight operating system had started running. Frederick accessed the folders that held the information he needed. It had been placed there, as promised, remotely, while he was at work. There was a folder of pictures and a separate folder for text files. He clicked the text folder.
Robotics. Android, eliminate. A robot with female attributes had escaped from the corporation. It had been an experiment, she was unstable, dangerous even, and on the run now. He had to find the machine and either bring it to the company or destroy it himself. There were pictures included. He needed to find it, by the pictures given. It had gone by the nickname of Marie, and may be still going by that name somewhere. She was tricky and elusive it said, able to think and learn. He opened the folder of photographs.
A woman smiled at him from the screen. She couldn't have been older than himself. It was Marie, the android, so lifelike that he may have mistaken her for another human if he didn't know any better. She was average looking, brownish red hair, eyes that may have been gray or blue, pale skin. She'd been missing for sometime, most likely hiding in the very city where Frederick was living, where she would blend with the masses, where no one would give her a second glance.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket and stared at it. He would take the job, maybe, but first...
"Macon. Wonderful to hear from you so quickly."
"Mmm." He bit his lip and kept speaking. "So I am to collect and eliminate this woman?"
"Robot, Macon. Or android. This thing is not a human. I thought that was quite obvious from the information." The woman's voice sharpened. "I do hope you are not backing out. This is one job that we need you to to do, and it would be quite a shame if you refused. Quite a shame, indeed."
"You threaten me."
"Such accusations, Macon. Tsk tsk." Other voices in the background. "In truth, we really need this particular piece of technology back here, or dismantled and destroyed. You have either option. I would say the latter is the best."
"Why is that?"
"To avoid problems that may arise. Now, do you agree to this job?"
He hesitated. These people were dangerous, but this job could easily be so as well. Anything to avoid going back to his home world. Life was too slow there, too simple, not enough stimulation to keep him from thinking. Better to collect a piece of property for a company than to go back. "Yes. I agree."
"Good luck." A soft click sounded.
Frederick stared at the pictures again. One looked like a formal portrait. Another was candid, the android leaving a restaurant and dressed rather plainly, flanked by a friend or two. The machine walking down a sidewalk above the ground, in the city. He recognized the building behind her. It was a bank, and she was walking as if it were a routine to pass there. He'd start there.
The portrait caught his eye again, the smiling face unflinching. He swallowed hard and closed the files.
Tomorrow.
*********
Chapter 2: Job
Frederick sat in his room, waiting for his other computer to start up. In seconds, the lightweight operating system had started running. Frederick accessed the folders that held the information he needed. It had been placed there, as promised, remotely, while he was at work. There was a folder of pictures and a separate folder for text files. He clicked the text folder.
Robotics. Android, eliminate. A robot with female attributes had escaped from the corporation. It had been an experiment, she was unstable, dangerous even, and on the run now. He had to find the machine and either bring it to the company or destroy it himself. There were pictures included. He needed to find it, by the pictures given. It had gone by the nickname of Marie, and may be still going by that name somewhere. She was tricky and elusive it said, able to think and learn. He opened the folder of photographs.
A woman smiled at him from the screen. She couldn't have been older than himself. It was Marie, the android, so lifelike that he may have mistaken her for another human if he didn't know any better. She was average looking, brownish red hair, eyes that may have been gray or blue, pale skin. She'd been missing for sometime, most likely hiding in the very city where Frederick was living, where she would blend with the masses, where no one would give her a second glance.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket and stared at it. He would take the job, maybe, but first...
"Macon. Wonderful to hear from you so quickly."
"Mmm." He bit his lip and kept speaking. "So I am to collect and eliminate this woman?"
"Robot, Macon. Or android. This thing is not a human. I thought that was quite obvious from the information." The woman's voice sharpened. "I do hope you are not backing out. This is one job that we need you to to do, and it would be quite a shame if you refused. Quite a shame, indeed."
"You threaten me."
"Such accusations, Macon. Tsk tsk." Other voices in the background. "In truth, we really need this particular piece of technology back here, or dismantled and destroyed. You have either option. I would say the latter is the best."
"Why is that?"
"To avoid problems that may arise. Now, do you agree to this job?"
He hesitated. These people were dangerous, but this job could easily be so as well. Anything to avoid going back to his home world. Life was too slow there, too simple, not enough stimulation to keep him from thinking. Better to collect a piece of property for a company than to go back. "Yes. I agree."
"Good luck." A soft click sounded.
Frederick stared at the pictures again. One looked like a formal portrait. Another was candid, the android leaving a restaurant and dressed rather plainly, flanked by a friend or two. The machine walking down a sidewalk above the ground, in the city. He recognized the building behind her. It was a bank, and she was walking as if it were a routine to pass there. He'd start there.
The portrait caught his eye again, the smiling face unflinching. He swallowed hard and closed the files.
Tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Sentience
So here's the next project that will be posted on this blog. I'll try to post part of it at least every other day. Again, it's for your enjoyment. If yall like it, I may just make copies available in a hard format or e-book format; it depends on the reception. I really am wanting this project to work out better than Doornail did, and I'm feeling quite optimistic. No, don't get excited, it's not my other novel. That's not finished yet. This is for fun, quite rough, and for the entertainment of all, and I want you to enjoy it. With no further comments, I now present to you Sentience.
Chapter 1: Beep
Frederick Macon stared at the license tag in front of him as the hovering vehicle it belonged to pitched up and down gently. He was close to memorizing the sequence of numbers now, because he had been behind this car for two hours, both of them stuck in the inevitable afternoon traffic. He had left his job at the plant at 4:30, hoping perhaps to get home early, or something resembling early.
*beep*
The phone.
*beep*
THE phone. The one that only rang maybe every few months, bringing word of some real money, real opportunities and skills for a 24-year-old line worker. He pressed a button on the gear shift. "Macon."
"Good evening, Macon." The female voice was familiar. He'd never met her. Whoever she was, she'd given him word of his last two jobs. "Something new for you to work on."
"Will you be sending the information in the manner we have discussed?"
"Of course." She paused. "Macon, this job may be a bit harder for you than others have been. You will need to...collect and eliminate a product formula that we have lost track of."
"Eliminate?" He frowned. Retrieval and disposal. Those were familiar codewords; they dealt with information exclusively. He rarely even had to talk to any of the people involved with his targets. He'd been off-planet once, but only because of a malfunction in one of his computers. Collect and eliminate was a new order, and he was unsure what it meant.
"Yes, eliminate. The information will be in the designated place that we discussed. Contact me again if you accept this job. Hope I'll talk to you tonight, Macon." Silence. The call was over.
Thirty minutes later, the traffic cleared. Frederick looked at the right side of the road, curious as to what the problem had been. The only thing he saw was an eagle, or at least what was called an eagle. The reptile had been hit at some point by a car that was still stalled by the road, its bumper crumpled on the end. The animal's carcass dangled by a wing from the partition, and two workers were trying to remove it. Frederick watched as the creature's wing was cut loose, and looked away just as the remnants of the animal fell to the earth, far below.
Frederick sped up, shaking the feeling that crawled through him. It was an animal, not much more. It wasn't as if it was a human. And anyway, the promise of a job waited for him at home.
Chapter 1: Beep
Frederick Macon stared at the license tag in front of him as the hovering vehicle it belonged to pitched up and down gently. He was close to memorizing the sequence of numbers now, because he had been behind this car for two hours, both of them stuck in the inevitable afternoon traffic. He had left his job at the plant at 4:30, hoping perhaps to get home early, or something resembling early.
*beep*
The phone.
*beep*
THE phone. The one that only rang maybe every few months, bringing word of some real money, real opportunities and skills for a 24-year-old line worker. He pressed a button on the gear shift. "Macon."
"Good evening, Macon." The female voice was familiar. He'd never met her. Whoever she was, she'd given him word of his last two jobs. "Something new for you to work on."
"Will you be sending the information in the manner we have discussed?"
"Of course." She paused. "Macon, this job may be a bit harder for you than others have been. You will need to...collect and eliminate a product formula that we have lost track of."
"Eliminate?" He frowned. Retrieval and disposal. Those were familiar codewords; they dealt with information exclusively. He rarely even had to talk to any of the people involved with his targets. He'd been off-planet once, but only because of a malfunction in one of his computers. Collect and eliminate was a new order, and he was unsure what it meant.
"Yes, eliminate. The information will be in the designated place that we discussed. Contact me again if you accept this job. Hope I'll talk to you tonight, Macon." Silence. The call was over.
Thirty minutes later, the traffic cleared. Frederick looked at the right side of the road, curious as to what the problem had been. The only thing he saw was an eagle, or at least what was called an eagle. The reptile had been hit at some point by a car that was still stalled by the road, its bumper crumpled on the end. The animal's carcass dangled by a wing from the partition, and two workers were trying to remove it. Frederick watched as the creature's wing was cut loose, and looked away just as the remnants of the animal fell to the earth, far below.
Frederick sped up, shaking the feeling that crawled through him. It was an animal, not much more. It wasn't as if it was a human. And anyway, the promise of a job waited for him at home.
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