So, I’ve kinda been randomly writing a book for the past several years. Off and on. Really, I’ve neglected it, and so it’s gathered dust on my hard drive for quite some time. I started it in 2003, based on some things that I’m really not sure I want to divulge right now. I’ve only got around ten thousand words right now, but this year has been fruitful, especially in terms of ideas.
I’ve generated some more background and character work that I think will pay off in the future. It’s so much easier to write people when you already have them developed in your head. Really, it’s similar to real life in some ways. I write dialogue in the same way I rehearse conversations (does anyone else do that?). I talk to people in my head, trying to think about how they would respond to various things I could say. I think it helps me communicate more clearly in real life if I develop my ideas ahead of time. This often makes people think that I’m combative in conversation, because I have detailed backing for a lot of my opinions. So, when I bring up several conflicting points in a conversation, they think I’m picking a fight, when really I’m just trying to deal with a subject that I’ve already spent time thinking about in the past. Often, I’m not really being adversarial as much as I’m just trying to figure out if they’ve come up with a better solution or response than I have.
I have to admit, sometimes I get disappointed when people quit on a disagreement so quickly. People don’t like conflict, and so they tend to back down or give up in short order. Frequently, I am actually hoping that they’ll say something I haven’t considered and actually change my mind. It’s a comfort sometimes, because I don’t like a lot of the conclusions I draw when I examine the world. It frustrates me when I can’t seem to get a different perspective that makes more sense than the cynical one I often come to.
Anyway, I’ve gotten some satisfaction from my writing recently. I have several things I need to write, and it just happened that I didn’t want to (or didn’t have the inspiration glads primed enough) really concentrate on them. One is a set of essays for my graduate applications, and the other is a summary of my thoughts on Africa. The first I’m just not prepared for, because I still need to do some research. The second I just haven’t formed enough conclusions to really do properly.
So, here’s a bit of what I *have* managed to get done. The actual codex doesn’t contain both of these pieces adjacent to each other, but I want to keep enough of the story obscure so that it will be fresh when I get ready to release it to destructive testing (open reading and editing). It’s just a flimsy story. Gutter fiction of the sort I like to read that is funny and interesting, yet not so heavy as to be taxing. Sometimes I just want a fun story that has some solid logic inherent in thing. Hopefully I’ll be able to be internally consistent… but at the same time, it’s intended to jack with your perceptions and make you consider some thoughts that I hope are original and unique to my little fevered mind.
Enjoy!
****
His nights were consumed with the library, an interactive database of knowledge covering almost every social, technological, and historical aspect of Earth. This was where Warren began to realize the truth about just how out of place he was.
It started because of the industrial revolution. The multiplied tons of carbon that began filling the atmosphere served as a clear indication to those who were watching that the inhabitants of the planet were about to embark on an amazing period of growth in technological capability. This was the trigger.
They had been watching for some time. Earth was not unique among the heavens in that respect. They kept tabs on all known members of a certain class of celestial bodies. Planets were cataloged, categorized by inhabitability, and occasionally encouraged to develop. Planets with native sapience were treated with the utmost of care. They were the rarest of pearls in God’s jewelry box, planets so rich in location and substance that they actually brought forth rational intelligence. The universe as a whole was not the teaming ocean of life that many believed. Though a great many planets were situated in survivable orbits and contained the correct ratios of elements and gravities, very, very few actually developed life. Those that did frequently never developed anything above instinct level intelligences. Beings always underestimated the raw opposition of probability when it came to these things. Sentience was not a low energy state affair, and no matter how many monkeys with paintbrushes you employ, the Sistine Chapel was not an act of chaos, nor could it ever be.
Thus, when Earth started to fog its skies those who watched simply followed the protocols in place. Rules had been established long ago regarding the interaction with and advancement of juvenile societies: it was allowed and encouraged, but heavily regulated. Every planet would always retain a vast, and bordering on total, amount of independence with regards to the affairs within its own atmosphere and, generally, star system. Outside of those lines, however, systems were considered the property of those parties granted rights due to the discovery or purchase of that sector of space.
So it was that Earth had been the property of another galactic entity for approximately 47,000 years. A rather large portion of the human race still was not aware of the true extent of this situation, for it had been decided best to reveal this over a longer period and in small doses to the general population.
****
Walking down the hallway, Warren was a ball of tension. His mind was a curious complexity of questions and fear.
You’re just being stupid. These people aren’t going to eat your mind or anything. They are doctors. They are at war, so they need you. You’re a soldier. Why should they do anything to harm you? But can you really trust a shrink? Do they really even know what they are doing, fooling with the mind? Maybe they’ll brainwash you. But brainwash me to what? What is it about this place? It’s like there’s some great secret hiding in the background that I just can’t see. Why am I here? Where am I? Who brought me here? What are they hiding from me? Watch for windows. How am I going to get out of here if I need to? Watch for windows. They aren’t barred… God only knows what they are made of. This is a clinic… for crazy people. You think they’ll put easily broken unbarred windows about the place? Doubtful. Where would I go, anyway? I’ll try to find Gibson. Will he help me? What would that mean for him? They’ll court marshal him. Would he risk that? Who else can you trust? I don’t think I can trust anyone. There’s no way about it. You can’t win this. You can’t run. Where can you hide? They probably have tracking devices in you. Well of course they do. You’re barcoded. You’re a soldier. You’re meat to them. Face it, you’ve already lost. You’re just biding your time until your hand is called. This is all so stupid. These are real people, you know. Families. Dogs at home, waiting to be fed. It’s not like they are puppy kicking cannibals. Relax. So far, the only danger you’ve been subjected to has been in your own head. You walk the streets at night in peace. Everything has always been peaceful around here. I wonder why? Isn’t that odd?
The burgundy carpet was deeply padded and complemented the wood paneled walls. The entire atmosphere of the clinic was similar to a hunting lodge. All the decorations were of dark colors. Every lampshade seemed to be rose tinted, and though the curtains were drawn open, the light entering the windows couldn’t quite manage to really fill the place. Darkness prevailed in the corners and under tables.
It was odd to him that, under different circumstances, such a building would be well suited to a quiet vacation in the wilderness. Though dark, the colors were comforting. They implied a coolness, a reprieve from the oppressive heat of the un-obscured sun awaiting outside. He wanted to lay down for a short nap in the softness of carpet and watch the light play on the oiled furniture. Possibly, he could forget where he was for a short time…
He was shown into a luxuriously furnished office. The continuing theme of soft red and browns made the room look like a 20’s era boardroom. Tung oil scented the air, along with a very slight smell of vanilla.
Standing to one side of a large mahogany desk was the source of the second aroma. The first thing that struck Warren was not the lack of a beard, or a sweater for that matter. No, the first thing that went through his mind was that this was one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen in his life wearing a very warm smile.
“Ah, Mr. Feeks. It’s good to meet you. I’m Dr. Basilico. Please, have a seat.”
She indicated the chair before the desk as her smile faded. It was of the same style and size as her own: large, leather, and deep. She dismissed the secretary with a nod without removing her attention from her new patient.
“You’re not military, are you.”
Warren said this as a statement, rather than a question. It was obvious. He thought to himself that this may have been why he was so struck by her features, because they were quite unlike any other woman he’d seen since his displacement. Her fine bone structure looked almost frail in comparison to the rest of the female population on base.
He gestured to the desk and chairs, “Don’t you think the appointments are a bit stereotypical? Do I need to get on the couch? I can’t believe you actually have one… I always thought it was just a cliché.”
“No,” she replied as her smile returned. “I’m not military. And you are correct that did I receive that engineering, if that’s what you’re implying. I also must confess that I don’t really understand your second question. What’s stereotypical about my office? And I do not see how a therapists’ couch is anything out of place. I simply try to make my clients as comfortable as possible.”
“Well, it’s kind of classic posh, isn’t it? A bit of a show, financially? I mean, you’ve even got the massive bookcase full of leather bound volumes. I’m just waiting for you to tell me that you’re ‘kind of a big deal’. ‘People know me.’ That sort of thing. But they do engineer people here, don’t they? I’d guessed, but hadn’t had time to research it yet.”
“Yes, ‘they’ do, Mr. Feeks, though I think we should leave the technical questions aside for the moment. I will promise to come back to them in due time, but right now I would like to set a psychological baseline to start from. Is that acceptable?”
“Thank you, yes.”
“I’m an evaluation specialist, Mr. Feeks. I’m not here to fix your problems; I’m here to determine your condition as it concerns military service. There are a few different ways we can look at this situation, and I just want to be up front about that. Please understand that I am not passing any judgment on you at this time, but I will have to make certain recommendations about your fitness for duty. I’m not here for therapy, or to offer you any treatment for any illness you might have. I am triage. I decide if you stay or go. I am your judge, Mr. Feeks. Because of this burden I have, I will need you to be as honest as possible. If I suspect that you are lying, I will mention that in any report that I give. You should have no expectation of confidentiality in this room. This is a military procedure. What you say will be scrutinized and made available to those in decision making positions.
“Desertion is a real problem the military faces with many soldiers. You need to be aware that this is one of the main possibilities that I must consider in your case. Our military has no legal responsibility to grant a medical discharge without the recommendation of my department, and you will be afforded no recourse even if later review or testing discovers an error in our judgment. In other words, my decisions regarding your status are binding and final.
“Do you understand your position in this matter?”
“Wait, so… is this a legal hearing or a psychological evaluation?”
“It is both, Mr. Feeks.”
“Well if this is some sort of legal proceeding, do I need a lawyer?”
“You are not allowed legal counsel in this matter. I serve as both your advisor, and jury.”
“I’m not allowed any outside oversight?”
“Mr. Feeks, you fall under military jurisdiction. This is the process. You’ve requested a discharge from your services due to medical necessity. It is my duty to make an evaluation of that request. I have no wish to see anyone in the field that is not fully able to serve in a full capacity, and I am fully qualified to evaluate your mental faculties. These are the powers granted me. You assented to this program when you signed up for this release. If you have any further questions about the scope of this process, I would ask that you review that at a later time. We have quite a bit of ground to cover today. Now, may we proceed?”
“I suppose so.”
“Very well. Now, you say you can’t remember anything that happened past two months ago? No, wait, that’s not correct. What you remember just doesn’t appear to match up with the life that you now have, correct?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Yes, well, I’ve looked over your screening tests, and I must say, it appears you been pretty open about this problem.”
“I’m not sure what to do. I thought about hiding it, but I believed that that could harm others.”
“Yes, so you’ve said. You even have had odd dreams since your accident, yes? Amazingly, the hospital found absolutely no sign of long term trauma to your brain. You came in with a concussion, but you were examined shortly before you were discharged. They found no damage, just a fairly regular concussion, which would have cleared up within a few days of your release from the hospital.”
She looked up from the file in her hands, “So, I’ll just be up front about this, it doesn’t appear that any physical change is responsible. Why don’t you just relay what your memories are from the start?”
“Ok… I’m not really sure what you mean by ‘from the start.’ You want, like, my life story or something?”
“Yes, please.”
“Well… I mean… I don’t know. I grew up pretty normal I guess. Born, raised in a small town. You see, I don’t even know what to talk about. I don’t know what’s the same here and what’s different, you know? I haven’t even been off this base since I got here… what’s regular life like?”
“Mr. Feeks, I understand that you may have some dilemma in accurately relaying and describing some details, however we really must have more information about exactly what psychosis you are or are not suffering from. Just talk, I’ll interrupt if I need more detail or explanation.”
“Ok, well, do I really need to start that early?”
“Let’s just start at twelve. Focus on your teenage years until now.”
“Right, well, I went to school in a little town called Darby, here in Florida. It was a private school. Actually, it gets weird right here, because Darby apparently doesn’t exist anymore. It’s not on your maps.”
“You said Florida? Interesting, and a private school. What kind of private school?”
“Oh, Christian. My parents liked having more control over my education than what public schools gave. They liked that it was so small, and they felt like they had more say since they were sending in checks. I was just another kid. I played backup safety on the football team. I never was big enough for much else. I didn’t have the arm to throw or the leg to kick. Special teams and stuff like that. You’ve got football, right?”
She smiled a little, “Yes, it’s a popular game.”
“Well… that’s something at least. So, anyway, I wasn’t a real social ascendant, just a guy. Didn’t really date much. Actually, that’s one of the weird things so far, I actually do know two people here. They were back there also. I knew them in school. I kinda had a crush on Jill back in the day. Never got anywhere with it. Girls in Darby generally always wanted a boyfriend from somewhere else. I guess it was more prestigious or something to say that you’d landed a guy from another town. Like, I guess you were worth driving to see or something.”
“Yes, Mr. Feeks, we have that documented. We’ve already taken statements from both.”
“Oh, well, great. I’m sure they had some interesting things to say. Anyway, I wasn’t anything really, just a guy. I graduated in the upper portion of my class, and went to college not far from home. USF. Same story there, really. I didn’t get out a lot. Oddly enough, that’s how I got here I guess. I actually “got out” one night. Those two girls and I, we’d went to a party. Ok, not together, but we’d all ended up there, and they’d gotten a bit tipsy and needed a ride home. I was always a safe ride home. Since they knew me, they knew I wouldn’t take advantage of them.”
Warren smiled, “Maybe I should have… that would have kept me from feeling like such a doormat, but anyway, we were driving home, and I think a dog ran into the road or something. I swerved, because I’m stupid, and I hit some gravel on the edge of the road. From what they tell me, it wasn’t a horrible wreck. I just hit my head. The girls were fine, because apparently drunks always walk away. I ended up in the hospital for a couple of days.”
“And so you feel like you woke up in a different world?”
“I don’t really have a better way to say it. There’s stuff here we didn’t have back home. Technology people made up in their head.”
“All technology is made up in people’s heads, Mr. Feeks.” She seemed to enjoy batting down his loose statements. It made for an odd atmosphere, because Warren couldn’t figure out if she was paying more attention to the whole of his story or if she was just continually picking nits.
“Ok, but you know what I mean. This is crap that we didn’t have development or manufacturing for. We didn’t have the capability, even if we could dream it. It’s bad enough that they think I’m a pilot, but it’s not like I even recognize the propulsion system on those craft. I don’t know if I should call them planes or jets or what. We didn’t have things like that.”
“And yet, Mr. Feeks, I have complete records of your training to fly that very vehicle. Eye witnesses. Signed documents. Video, even. How do you explain that?”
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