Lucid Waking

Archive for the ‘Science Fiction’ Category

Self-Destruct

        Dr. Hillary Arbeid stared at her co-worker in surprised disbelief. Dr. Jason Baumgartner just continued shaking his head in a tightened resolve. They were standing around in the break room that served as a home away from home for many scientists working on a late-night project, much like they were.
        Hillary knew that Jason had taken their experiments on artificial intellegence just a little further and designed his own robot to act as a prototype for others. As part of an agreement to use company supplies, he started studying his creation’s psychology and collecting data for a report. Thus far, nothing substantial had come from his observations, so Hillary felt safe to ask how it was going, not expecting much of an answer. What she received instead was much more than she bargained for.
        “What do you mean, he committed suicide?” she asked.
        “Well, you know I put in a circuit breaker just in case he got homicidal, but I didn’t expect him to push the button himself,” Jason answered, bitterly.
        “Did this just come out of the blue?” Hillary asked. “Suicide just doesn’t happen randomly.”
        “I suppose there were signs of attachment and separation anxiety, but I didn’t think that was more just the programs desire to serve.” He sighed, “God, I should have known!”
        Hillary walked over and put her hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You couldn’t have known; this was a breakthrough experiment.”
        “He was more than just an experiment to me. I made him and designed him and I was really getting fond of the guy. Now he’s gone.”
        Hillary didn’t know what else to say. She knew dealing with grievers was not her strong point. “I’m sorry,” she answered. It seemed appropriate. “Let’s go back to work and get your mind off things right now. We can talk about it later.”
        Jason nodded. “We still have a lot more to finish of this project before tomorrow morning.”

Author’s comments on post 383: I was working on a project for class and reviewing Arthur C. Clarke’s space odysseys when this idea popped into my head. I was intrigued by the idea so I sat down to write it and when I went to save it, my word processor crashed and lost the story. So this is the second draft, not quite as magical as the first, but I still like the concept.

Tiny Galaxies

        “Take a seat, Dr. Hammond,” General Murray said, though he himself remained standing. “I want you to tell me about this revolutionary theory of yours.”
        “Why? Is there a problem?” Dr. Hammond asked, a slight bitterness in his voice at the General’s attempt to be intimidating.
        “No, I’m just curious about this proposal.”
        “Well, the lab developed a microscope that magnifies such a small molecular level that we can examine quarks in detail. We found that these particles were made up of smaller particles within vacuous space and the formation of these particles are similar to what we see in our own universe. In fact, quarks are actually made up of stars—extremely tiny stars and we believe that the small specks we see in the microscopic pictures are actually planets revolving around these suns. The theory is that if our atoms are really made up of a collection of galaxies, then who’s to say that there is no life in our own cells?”
        “Dr., …you don’t possibly believe this, do you?”
        “I’m willing to suspend my disbelief enough to create a stronger microscope. But if we find a little planet Earth, then I refuse to admit there is opposition.”
        The General moved to glance out his window at the world below his office. He sighed. “I suppose I should admit that my motivations for asking you here are not from pure curiosity. I was given orders to prevent you from publishing your theory. Now, I respect you and your work, but if this information was given to the public, someone somewhere would turn it into fuel for panic. What if we are just a small part of a larger being? We could be part of something else’s quark—as you put it.”
        “I thought the same thing. And it really puts humanity into perspective, doesn’t it?”
        “I think you’re missing the point, Dr. Hammond. This whole thing could scale into a global catastrophe.”
        “I disagree,” Dr. Hammond said standing. “But who am I to exercise my right of free speech?” He bowed ever so slightly and then exited from the General’s office.

Author’s comment on post 377: I originally wanted this longer, but I couldn’t find a plot long enough to fit the premise. It works much better in this shorter format. I had the idea for a while, and I’m glad it’s out on virtual paper. Hope you enjoy it!

The Wanderers (11)

        “What?”
        A rather robust woman came into the office from a brown door located to Dorian’s right. She was dressed in a business suit with flat shoes though she seemed the antithesis of a sophisticated business woman. She looked at Dorian quizzically and then recognition lit up her face. Dorian’s stomach tightened, but she remained paused with one hand on her hip and the other holding open the door and stared for a few moments as if trying to convince herself who she was seeing was not who she thought he was.
        “New here, huh?” she finally said slowly. Then she continued her silence while her secretary bounced between the two of them, bewildered. “Well,” she continued, “just for the night you can stay in my office. But don’t touch anything or I’ll call the cops.”
        “Yes, ma’am.”
        “I get in early so you’ll have plenty of time to get dressed in company work clothes and introduced to my warehouse manager. I think you’ll like him.”
        “Thank you so much.”
        “Don’t mention it. You can pay me back later by answering my questions. And don’t think I’m as nice as I’m being now. I expect work.”
        “Absolutely.”
        She smiled. “Excellent start. I’ll see you in the morning.”
        She stood aside and let Dorian pass her into the large labyrinth of offices. “My name’s on the door if you go down the hall turn left and then right. It should be open considering the lock has been broken for months.”
        Dorian thanked her again and found the office in very little time. Her space was no better than Exec’s, except that her desk was long enough to act as a small shelter. He crawled under the space and sighed. Though this was the second time he was sleeping in an office on the floor, he considered his escape successful thus far. He was just about fall asleep when his stomach grumbled and he vowed that first thing in the morning he was going to get breakfast. One way or another.

Author’s comments on post 375: More of "The Wanderers" at a later date? Maybe, but I make not promises. This is where I stop for now and start working on character design. I hope my drawing skills are up for the task.

The Wanderers (10)

        He found the entrance to the warehouse with only a little searching; the front of the building faced a small side street that seemed more like an alley. Upon opening the door, he found himself in a thrown together lobby, which looked more like a small office with the desk facing the outside door. The woman behind the desk had her back to him as she filed away manila envelopes into the cabinets behind her. Dorian cleared her throat and she turned around.
        “Hello, what can I do for you?” she said cheerfully.
        “I was given this resume this morning to work—”
        “Let me see it,” she said extending her hand. She glanced at it before sitting down and typing information into her computer. “No experience? Well, this will just have to do. Your resume went through and was approved, so Ms. Nelson must know what she’s doing.” She turned to Dorian and smiled. “You’re all done, then. See you tomorrow.”
        “Is there any possibility you could point me towards a place to stay?”
        “You don’t have one?”
        “No, I’m…moving from another dome.”
        “Paper work not going through in time?”
        “Unfortunately.”
        “Oh, well, that’s all right.” The woman smiled. “You could just drive down to the residential district and there are a couple very charming little hotels…”
        “I don’t have a car; I took the bus here.”
        The woman paused. “Well, I’m not sure what to tell you. Although if you run, you might be able to make it.”
        “Milly, are you finished yet? I’ve got to close up,” a woman yelled from further inside the building.
        “Oh, Ms. Nelson! The new worker is here and he needs a place to stay.”

Author’s comments on post 373: Penultimate instilation of "The Wanderers"

The Wanderers (9)

        Now that he had time and a direction, he felt at liberty to wander in finding an area to examine the maps. After the initial entrance way where the security guards sat monitoring the metal detectors, there was a set of stairs that led to a large cavernous lobby. In the middle of this area was a fountain and the two side walls were filled with elevators. Around the fountain were benches, but Dorian made his way past all of these to the glass back wall where a door led to a cafeteria.
        The cafeteria had faux marble tables and wire chairs and a few had umbrellas to block out the sun streaming through the sun roof. Dorian sat down and opened up the map. All at once the table was decorated with a myraid of colors and lines that seemingly didn’t make any sense. It took a good while for him to decode it; people would pass him and glance his way, trying not to stare.
        He located the warehouse district, but it was the trouble of memorizing how to get there that took a while. Once he thought he had memorized a route, he left the building, trying not to make contact with the guards, and felt safe enough to make his way back down the main street to the outskirts of town.
        It was sunset when he found his way to the edge of the district, but he could clearly see the skeleton of a space craft a little ways away from the street he was following. Fatigued, but more worried about the approaching curfew, he practically ran towards the spaceship and thanked some higher being that not only was the warehouse right next to the frame, but a couple cars were still located in the parking lot.

Author’s comments on post 371: More of the Wanderers and an important announcement. I finally figured what might be the problem with this story: the medium. Yes, I love writing and the beginning comes out pretty well as it is. But later scenes, I have a vision for that might be better suited to a graphic novella than a short story. So I’ll make a deal. I’m going to continue writing this story until I can reach a good stopping point. Once I feel that it is reasonably concluded, I will stop and continue planning it as a graphic novel. "But wait," you might say, "what about House of Animalia?" That is still in planning stages, while the Wanderers I have planned out generally. The House of Animalia can wait a little longer. I know I have tendency to start projects and not finish them, but I feel this would be a lot richer with pictures. Thank you for your patience and in due time, I will accomplish all of my goals :).

The Wanderers (8)

        Swiftly exiting, he made his way down the hall back to Visitor Services and this time when he tried the door, it opened. The office inside was very similar to the Employment office, except slightly more homey. The walls were painted blue instead of white and the waiting area was smaller. To his left, from the doorway, there was a long secretary’s desk and next to that a hall that lead to several other offices. The secretary’s desk had two people, a woman was answering calls and the other, a man, was copying paperwork. As it was early in the morning, the small waiting room was empty and Dorian felt at liberty to go straight to the desk.
        “How can I help you?” the man asked, smiling.
        “I’d like a map of the city, please.”
        “Our maps are mounted on the wall right here. Take your time going through them to pick out the area you need.”
        He was well trained, Dorian thought, if he didn’t ask what I was doing so early in the morning looking for a map. Perhaps, that wasn’t such a rare occurrence, he mused but if asked, he decided to stick by the story that his airplane flight arrived late. Though maybe, that wasn’t such a good idea because he wasn’t even sure there were airplanes anymore since the dome was put up.
        He flipped absentmindedly through the maps. If he looked like he knew he was doing, no one would suspect that he really didn’t. His hand stopped on an overall map of the city. “Terra Dome 3602” the title said, but when he tried unfolding it to its vast size, he had trouble keeping it open. He quickly folded it up to avoid attention and was about to leave when another caught his eye: “Sub-dome 224: Terra Dome 3602 Warehouse Quarters.” He grabbed it, smiled at the secretaries (the woman was now off the phone) and left, taking the elevator down to the lobby.

Author’s comments on post 369: More of The Wanderers. Comments are welcome.

The Wanderers (7)

        Dorian hesitated.
        “You can take it,” Mr. Leblanc said.
        “Thank you,” Dorian answered.
        Mr. Leblanc smiled. “You’re welcome. But you should really thank Exec.”
        “There is not need for thanks,” Exec said, smiling. Dorian had never seen a robot smile and it looked surprisingly natural.
        He followed Exec out of the office and not knowing where else to go, back to his. Exec sat down in the rolling chair behind the desk and turned towards the computer. After a couple minutes of complete silence except for the tapping of keys, Dorian stood up.
        “So that’s it, then. I guess, good bye.”
        “Goodbye, Dorian. I would not mind if you would come and visit. I feel that getting to know humans and their customs has made me better at my job and it would be nice to talk to someone who has time to talk and does not think that he is superior to me.”
        “I’m not superior to you; I’m part of a servant race, as well.”
        Exec looked up puzzled surprisingly well. “I do not understand. I cannot see any error between you and a human. What do you mean you are part of a servant race?”
        Dorian paused. “I’m a runaway clone.”
        Exec nodded. “I have read about you in the newspapers. But luckily, no one will know unless you tell them. I am curious, however; why did you run away?”
        Dorian chuckled. “I thought that the outside world would be better than the lab. But I find out it’s exactly the same, if not more dangerous. There are advantages to being designed for a purpose and having a routine. Having one direction gives you a sense of accomplishment; you know where to go. Here, I’m just wandering, trying to find a direction.”
        “I am sure you will find a direction. I have found an enjoyable position among my fellow robots.”
        “But you were designed to do that.”
        “I believe that my superiors will be checking in soon to observe my work. It is not polite to turn away a friend or to interrupt, but my calculations indicate it would be worse if I let you stay here.”
        Dorian sighed. “Thanks, Exec.”
        Swiftly exiting, he made his way down the hall back to Visitor Services and this time when he tried the door, it opened.

Author’s comments on post 367: I’m hoping that as we go along, the purpose of the story is getting more and more aparent. There is a reason that I titled it The Wanderers. I appreciate any feedback, especially since–though I think I’m doing well for a first draft–there is something about it that bothers me.

In other news: I started a new tradition: How To Fix Your Blues which I plan on doing every Saturday. I can’t review movies that often, but I plan on recommending something to do or watch for those who are looking for something new. I like doing reviews and since this is my blog, I thought I could branch out a bit. Also, I’ve discovered that I can schedule posts to be published at a certain time. Thus, if I know I will be absent for a time and can schedule ahead, you won’t be missing any posts. I’ve found this advantageous, thus far. So for sure, I will have something tommorrow!

The Wanderers (6)

        Mr. Leblanc stood up when they walked in and smiled at Exec.
        “’Morning, Exec. What can I do for you?”
        “Good morning, Mr. Leblanc. I had already asked you about a favor and you had responded with positive enthusiasm. I would like to ask you to get a job for this man.”
        Mr. Leblanc’s smile slightly faded “Is he a friend of yours?”
        Exec paused ever so slightly. “Yes.”
        Mr. Leblanc sighed. “I don’t know, Exec. I really shouldn’t pull strings like this. I thought you were going to ask me to proofread one of your press releases, again.”
        “I understand, but I have calculated that you have a 3.5% possibility of getting caught and a 1.3% possibility of ruining the system. I believe these percentages are considerably low enough that no harm can come from this.”
Mr. Leblanc smiled slightly at this speech and sat down, shaking his head. Then, for the first time, he turned to Dorian. “What’s your name?”
        “Dorian (er—) Archer.”
        “Well, Mr. Archer, this is your lucky day.” He breathed a heavy sigh and turned towards his computer module. “Exec, you’re going to get me fired one day.” He quickly typed his password into some program and then Dorian’s name. He frowned. “Hmm. You’re not coming up in the database; that’s strange. Are you sure you exist?” Mr. Leblanc laughed. “I can’t imagine a glitch like this. Oh well, I can just make you a card and we’ll sort out the details later.” This statement was followed by more typing and several mouse clicks. “Well, since you’re not in the computer, I can only assume you have no job experience. Fortunately, there is still a job opening at this warehouse on the edge of town. It’s an assembly line for space craft, you might enjoy it. Not that you really have a choice, but it’s a good job, anyway.”
        A printer started up behind Exec and Dorian. “That should be your resume.”

Author’s comments on post 365: Sorry about the absense; it’s been a hell of a week. I’d also like to apologize about this ending of this post this week, but I had to stop at ten minutes. There really isn’t much more to the scene and I’m sure you get the gist of how it ends, anyway. I’m finding that when I take a story in small chunks, it’s easier to keep with continuity because I reread that last bit before I write this one to refresh my memory and thus, the big glaring continuity error in this one got fixed. I think this is much better than the first draft.

The Wanderers (5)

        Dorian awoke to a cold hand vigorously shaking his shoulder. He couldn’t feel his one arm underneath him, but he managed to push himself up to a sitting position.
        “I am sorry to wake you, but it is very important that you not stay here. My superiors will be here any moment to check on me and my work and you cannot stay. Fortunately, the individual who is in charge of the employment office has arrived early and agreed to perform a favor for me.”
        “I’m not sure this is what he meant,” Dorian began, but did not finish as Exec began to pick him up off the floor. After a frantic flailing of limbs, Dorian found his balance and was quickly escorted out of the small office down the opposite end of the hall from where Visitor Services was located. Exec seemed to be in a hurry though he took large, calm, and collected strides while Dorian felt foolish following in a frantic and hurried trot. Eventually they reached the door labeled “Employment Opportunities” and without a moment wasted, Dorian was pushed through the door.
        “Good morning, Exec,” the secretary said once they entered. “Shall I get Mr. Leblanc for you?”
        “Yes, Sylvia. Thank you.”
        The two waited in the rather large waiting area that reminded Dorian of the doctor’s offices he had been forced to attend. The pictures on the walls looked equally fake and the image seemed complete by the inclusion of magazines next to sets of chairs. He had no more time to think about the parallels as Sylvia called from her desk that Mr. Leblanc was available and Dorian found himself quickly following Exec to the frosted window door that led to Mr. Leblanc’s office.

Author’s comments on post 363: Apparently when I said I wasn’t going to write much more of The Wanderers, I was wrong. Right now, the plan is to alternate stories every other day, but I don’t think this will last once I get back to school. But enjoy what I have for you and I hope to have more tomorrow.

The Wanderers (4)

        All at once the room was flooded in light forcing Dorian to blink several times slowly until his eyes adjusted. When he finally could look up he was greeted by an artificial face, smiling slightly until it caught his attention.
        “Please, sit down,” the robot said extending its arm as a human might to the seat in front of its desk. Dorian could tell from the billboards lining the main street that it was a 3062 model—one that seemed to be built like a car: streamlined, attractive, practical, and expensive. It was a “working” robot, so the human-likeness didn’t matter; its chrome skin reflected some of the office light.
        The office itself was nothing to brag about; it was the size of a walk-in closet with a single desk and two chairs apart from the rolling desk chair. The leather covering on the chairs was ripped and mended with duct tape that tried to blend in. The walls were painted a drab tan and the furniture was scratched up; its one usual occupant was the newest looking object in the room. The name tag on the desk read “Executive 221” and in smaller letters underneath: “Robot Ambassador to U.S. Troops.”
        “Executive 2-2-1; is that you’re name?”
        “Name? Yes, I forgot that humans exchange names as a part of their bonding process. I am usually called Exec. What is your name?”
        Dorian smiled. “Dorian.”
        “I am sorry, Dorian, that you will have to sleep on the floor.”
        “That’s perfectly fine. It’s much better than sleeping in the hallway.”
        “I do not understand.”
        “Here, I won’t get caught.”
        Dorian sat down on the ground and tried to get comfortable.
        “By the way, Exec. Do you always sleep with the light on?”
        “The light is how I ensure that no one comes into my office. If the light is on, the security guard on rounds will assume I am working and leave me alone.”
        But Dorian barely caught the end of the explanation for after a long day of running, sleep was not going to let him escape.

Author’s comments on post 361: I’m probably going to stop here for a short while. I have the rest planned, but I am losing a bit of interest. Don’t be surprised if I adopt other stories to tell. I have one that will go unplanned (which we’ll see how long that lasts) with my friend, Johnny, and some other people in that town. A post for sure tomorrow and probably the next day as well. My apologies for yesterday, I got caught up in the Oscars.