Version
Angel Cake 1.7
Suki
wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a
big oily grease stain on her forehead.
She
reached over and grabbed the bottle of water on the stool beside her
and took several gulps.
Click.
Click.
"I
know," Suki said. She placed the bottle back on the stool. "I
wasn't born yesterday."
Click.
"I
heard that," she said out loud. She lay back down on the roller
and then slid back underneath the vehicle and muttered, "Nag.
Nag. Nag."
Click.
Click. Click.
20131219
The New Doctrine
Version
Mountain-Sunders-Tree
Simon lifted the bulky envelope out of his mailbox. Up the stairs. Into the apartment.
Hang up his coat. Drop his wallet and keys on the table.
Check the phone for messages. Aren't any.
Study the envelope for identifying marks. Aren't any.
Sit at the kitchen table with the cellphone. Open the envelope.
A compact disc, wrapped in plastic.
Over to the laptop. Carrying the cell and the disc.
Slide in the disc, click on the program. Video file. Play.
A burnt copy of the movie Memento.
Simon lifted the bulky envelope out of his mailbox. Up the stairs. Into the apartment.
Hang up his coat. Drop his wallet and keys on the table.
Check the phone for messages. Aren't any.
Study the envelope for identifying marks. Aren't any.
Sit at the kitchen table with the cellphone. Open the envelope.
A compact disc, wrapped in plastic.
Over to the laptop. Carrying the cell and the disc.
Slide in the disc, click on the program. Video file. Play.
A burnt copy of the movie Memento.
The Status Quo
Status
Report on Subject A-443-C
5:55pm Subject sits at his computer with a cup of ramen noodles by his side. He frequents several pages over and over again. [Snark.ca, Linkage.uk, Blognation.com]. Subject spends several minutes in a forum and replies.
[Read through transcripts find out what's piqued his interests]
7:44 PM Subject leaves his apartment and heads to the corner coffee outlet to pick up an extra coffee to go with triple sugar and triple cream. Subject chats with a woman at a table.
[photo will be sent to be identified].
7:51pm Subject heads back home.
7:57pm Subject back at laptop to watch a program. Nothing out of the ordinary.
[review show to see if anything has a trigger]
5:55pm Subject sits at his computer with a cup of ramen noodles by his side. He frequents several pages over and over again. [Snark.ca, Linkage.uk, Blognation.com]. Subject spends several minutes in a forum and replies.
[Read through transcripts find out what's piqued his interests]
7:44 PM Subject leaves his apartment and heads to the corner coffee outlet to pick up an extra coffee to go with triple sugar and triple cream. Subject chats with a woman at a table.
[photo will be sent to be identified].
7:51pm Subject heads back home.
7:57pm Subject back at laptop to watch a program. Nothing out of the ordinary.
[review show to see if anything has a trigger]
20131218
Percussion
Version
Crimson.7
It was a step or four down from the hotel suite but Riveta felt more relaxed here in the seedy motel.
She missed Stone.
She lay back on the bed. The couple upstairs were stomping around again. She tried to steady her breathing. Tried to change the way she heard the noise, the way the Professor had described. To become open to it, to change her borders, so that the thumping wasn't an intrusion but part of the landscape.
She wondered where Stone had ended up. If it was like this for him.
She was scared, she could admit that, the small sharp spike at the end of every inhalation. She knew she was in something deep. She exhaled.
The thumping continued.
It was a step or four down from the hotel suite but Riveta felt more relaxed here in the seedy motel.
She missed Stone.
She lay back on the bed. The couple upstairs were stomping around again. She tried to steady her breathing. Tried to change the way she heard the noise, the way the Professor had described. To become open to it, to change her borders, so that the thumping wasn't an intrusion but part of the landscape.
She wondered where Stone had ended up. If it was like this for him.
She was scared, she could admit that, the small sharp spike at the end of every inhalation. She knew she was in something deep. She exhaled.
The thumping continued.
Roads Less or More
Version
Charlie Ten.7
Simon tugged his knee-length charcoal coat tight around him; the wind was chill today. He pressed the cell to his ear; there was lots of noisy traffic on the busy downtown street.
"They want to offer me the position," he said. "Should I take it?"
Simon reflexively scanned the faces of the crowd, glancing in car windows at the drivers, through shop windows at the clerks, always looking for someone he recognized. Trying to find the others. Except his memories of them were so staticky, he couldn't hold their faces or names, too much like a dream. And the man on the line was rarely any help.
"I can't tell you that," the Professor said. "You know it doesn't work that way. At least for now."
Simon sighed with frustration. "I'm just not sure if it's the right thing to do. Now, with everything being so different." He stopped briefly, thought he saw a woman across the street, red hair, something about her familiar... And was bumped into from behind, a careless teenager, no apology, strutting past with his crew.
"I'll have to call you back," Simon said to the Professor. "I have to go check myself for bugs."
"Now that's something I can help you with, Agent Light. You're clean."
Simon gave the street another scan, this time taking his look upward, to the tops of the buildings, and to the sky above. He had gotten used to thinking of the Professor as being in a satellite, although he knew that wasn't quite the case. Or sometimes he imagined it like the Operators in the Matrix, but that wasn't quite it either. And a lot of the time, Simon had the dread suspicion that the Professor was only a voice in his head.
"Let me know what you decide about their offer. It may be significant, it may not be."
"It'll be a big deal to me either way," Simon said with a slight edge.
"Yes, of course Agent Light. I'm sorry."
Simon tugged his knee-length charcoal coat tight around him; the wind was chill today. He pressed the cell to his ear; there was lots of noisy traffic on the busy downtown street.
"They want to offer me the position," he said. "Should I take it?"
Simon reflexively scanned the faces of the crowd, glancing in car windows at the drivers, through shop windows at the clerks, always looking for someone he recognized. Trying to find the others. Except his memories of them were so staticky, he couldn't hold their faces or names, too much like a dream. And the man on the line was rarely any help.
"I can't tell you that," the Professor said. "You know it doesn't work that way. At least for now."
Simon sighed with frustration. "I'm just not sure if it's the right thing to do. Now, with everything being so different." He stopped briefly, thought he saw a woman across the street, red hair, something about her familiar... And was bumped into from behind, a careless teenager, no apology, strutting past with his crew.
"I'll have to call you back," Simon said to the Professor. "I have to go check myself for bugs."
"Now that's something I can help you with, Agent Light. You're clean."
Simon gave the street another scan, this time taking his look upward, to the tops of the buildings, and to the sky above. He had gotten used to thinking of the Professor as being in a satellite, although he knew that wasn't quite the case. Or sometimes he imagined it like the Operators in the Matrix, but that wasn't quite it either. And a lot of the time, Simon had the dread suspicion that the Professor was only a voice in his head.
"Let me know what you decide about their offer. It may be significant, it may not be."
"It'll be a big deal to me either way," Simon said with a slight edge.
"Yes, of course Agent Light. I'm sorry."
The Light at the Waters Edge
Version
Angel Cake
Suki awoke on the floor. Her mind a dizzying fog of images and memories gelling together like tape in a dispenser.
It was cold and grey and all she could smell was diesel fuel; this wasn't a good sign to begin with.
"She coming to," a metallic voice said.
She could make out the click click of another sound. She lifted her head, but it felt heavy and it was pounding.
Bad shift.
"Are you okay, Miss?" the metallic voice asked.
There was that clicking sound again.
"I think she can understand me," the other said.
Click. Click.
"Of course she might be thirsty," said the metallic voice. "Go get her a bottle of water."
Suki awoke on the floor. Her mind a dizzying fog of images and memories gelling together like tape in a dispenser.
It was cold and grey and all she could smell was diesel fuel; this wasn't a good sign to begin with.
"She coming to," a metallic voice said.
She could make out the click click of another sound. She lifted her head, but it felt heavy and it was pounding.
Bad shift.
"Are you okay, Miss?" the metallic voice asked.
There was that clicking sound again.
"I think she can understand me," the other said.
Click. Click.
"Of course she might be thirsty," said the metallic voice. "Go get her a bottle of water."
20131217
A-B-B-A
Version
Sting Ray
Mayganne closed her cellphone after chatting with Sheri. They had chatted for three hours about everything and nothing. It was a good time killer, she thought.
She left her bedroom and entered the living room, where her brother had been playing a new video game.
She could hear him out the front window playing street ball now. Denny must have conned him into leaving the new game because it was a rare thing for him to do.
He had left the game on the pause screen, meaning that he was planning on getting back to it.
Mayganne got herself a soda from the fridge and was about to head back into her room to listen to the new Max & The Mana Junkies track she had downloaded while chatting.
She heard the whisper of wind and a space-like hymn coming from the television set.
She walked over and was about to turn it off when she sat down and decided to give it a play; she reached over to the control pad and exited and hit the start button.
Cool opening sequence of what appeared to be a cylindrical space station over a huge orange sun. The stars in the background. Then a ship flew from overhead and towards it, the faded name still readable: Nexus Wave.
It was a old fashioned ship flying like the ones in that 'Pirates of The Caribbean' movie but it was flying through space. Then the word flashed upon the screen: Citadel.
The next screen popped up and it was a huge array of characters to choose from. She scrolled through them all looking for a cool female character.
Serisia - Angel
Kitty - Street Thief
Maus - Warrior
She selected Maus and hit play.
Mayganne closed her cellphone after chatting with Sheri. They had chatted for three hours about everything and nothing. It was a good time killer, she thought.
She left her bedroom and entered the living room, where her brother had been playing a new video game.
She could hear him out the front window playing street ball now. Denny must have conned him into leaving the new game because it was a rare thing for him to do.
He had left the game on the pause screen, meaning that he was planning on getting back to it.
Mayganne got herself a soda from the fridge and was about to head back into her room to listen to the new Max & The Mana Junkies track she had downloaded while chatting.
She heard the whisper of wind and a space-like hymn coming from the television set.
She walked over and was about to turn it off when she sat down and decided to give it a play; she reached over to the control pad and exited and hit the start button.
Cool opening sequence of what appeared to be a cylindrical space station over a huge orange sun. The stars in the background. Then a ship flew from overhead and towards it, the faded name still readable: Nexus Wave.
It was a old fashioned ship flying like the ones in that 'Pirates of The Caribbean' movie but it was flying through space. Then the word flashed upon the screen: Citadel.
The next screen popped up and it was a huge array of characters to choose from. She scrolled through them all looking for a cool female character.
Serisia - Angel
Kitty - Street Thief
Maus - Warrior
She selected Maus and hit play.
Understanding the Eye
Version
Delta Fox
Susanna jotted down the idea on the inside of the cigarette pack. She didn't have time to run and get a sheet a paper or a napkin and the cigarette pack was handy.
Life is sweet like hidden treats, she had written.
She also wrote 4/4 Beat.
She began to hum a few bars of a melody, but to her it didn't sound quite right. So she began again in a low tone.
The waitress slid a coffee in front of her, "There's no smoking in here, Miss."
"Oh, I wasn't planning on lighting up," Susanna told her. "Just that when inspiration hits I grab the first thing that resembles a sheet a paper."
"Well now, if that's the case. Since there is no one here, you could light up," The waitress said with a smile and wandered away.
Susanna jotted down the idea on the inside of the cigarette pack. She didn't have time to run and get a sheet a paper or a napkin and the cigarette pack was handy.
Life is sweet like hidden treats, she had written.
She also wrote 4/4 Beat.
She began to hum a few bars of a melody, but to her it didn't sound quite right. So she began again in a low tone.
The waitress slid a coffee in front of her, "There's no smoking in here, Miss."
"Oh, I wasn't planning on lighting up," Susanna told her. "Just that when inspiration hits I grab the first thing that resembles a sheet a paper."
"Well now, if that's the case. Since there is no one here, you could light up," The waitress said with a smile and wandered away.
Conflict Resolution II
Version
Crimson.4
Riveta stared intently at the screen. The net-cafe was busy this morning, emails getting checked, flash games played, clips watched. She had been here since the place opened, as directed. Made sure she sat at the right terminal. Logged onto the message-board using the account she had been provided.
Reading for hours, exchanges between posters about anti-oppression theory, magickal practices, comic books, technological developments. There was a long thread about a decision to ban one of the posters, pages upon pages of text debating communication styles, scientific methodology, language and identity. It was an argument, a discussion, a lament, a challenge.
She watched the words on the screen stream and interlock, conjuring patterns of meaning, mysteries of intent, little pixelated sticks and curves summoning epic passions and petty indulgences. Figures and grounds. The beauty of connection and the terror of disconnection. The thoughts of dozens of people spread across the planet, caged, transmuted, sent into combat with each other. Agonizing contortions of principles and visions, to make a determination of the future presence or absence of one current of text on the message board. To silence or to manage, to embrace or to resist.
How could something so small feel so huge? she thought.
What is it the Professor wants me to see?
Riveta stared intently at the screen. The net-cafe was busy this morning, emails getting checked, flash games played, clips watched. She had been here since the place opened, as directed. Made sure she sat at the right terminal. Logged onto the message-board using the account she had been provided.
Reading for hours, exchanges between posters about anti-oppression theory, magickal practices, comic books, technological developments. There was a long thread about a decision to ban one of the posters, pages upon pages of text debating communication styles, scientific methodology, language and identity. It was an argument, a discussion, a lament, a challenge.
She watched the words on the screen stream and interlock, conjuring patterns of meaning, mysteries of intent, little pixelated sticks and curves summoning epic passions and petty indulgences. Figures and grounds. The beauty of connection and the terror of disconnection. The thoughts of dozens of people spread across the planet, caged, transmuted, sent into combat with each other. Agonizing contortions of principles and visions, to make a determination of the future presence or absence of one current of text on the message board. To silence or to manage, to embrace or to resist.
How could something so small feel so huge? she thought.
What is it the Professor wants me to see?
20131216
What's My Scene?
Status
Report on Subject A-443-C
6:13am: Subject A awakes 2 minutes before alarm clock. Subject immediately grabs pen and notepad.
6:16am: Subject finishes jotting down in dream journal (photocopy entry). (must log entry to uncover key)
6:44am: After shower, shave. Subject leaves apartment and heads to subway to catch train.
6:51am: Subject stops at news-stand, buys a pack of gum, a coffee and the morning edition of The Sun. (Must obtain copy of Sun and see what caught his eye).
7:01am: Subject heads down to subway...
6:13am: Subject A awakes 2 minutes before alarm clock. Subject immediately grabs pen and notepad.
6:16am: Subject finishes jotting down in dream journal (photocopy entry). (must log entry to uncover key)
6:44am: After shower, shave. Subject leaves apartment and heads to subway to catch train.
6:51am: Subject stops at news-stand, buys a pack of gum, a coffee and the morning edition of The Sun. (Must obtain copy of Sun and see what caught his eye).
7:01am: Subject heads down to subway...
Conflict Resolution
Version
Elephant Aardvark
The sweat was starting to fog his goggles. Flies swarmed around his head. The slightest shift of movement crackled the dry grass. The barren trees gave no shade against the sun. His breath was hot inside the helmet.
The enemy patrol crept only yards away. Tight formation. Barrels steadily sweeping the brush. The point-man gave the hand signal for a stop. These guys were pros; they must have sensed something was off.
Scorpio had his orders; wait until the patrol entered the bottleneck. But he knew that things had just become now-or-never.
Leaping from his cover with a roar, the trigger on his weapon squeezed tight, Scorpio lasted about 4 seconds before he started taking hits and his camo jacket was covered in bright yellow splotches of paint.
The sweat was starting to fog his goggles. Flies swarmed around his head. The slightest shift of movement crackled the dry grass. The barren trees gave no shade against the sun. His breath was hot inside the helmet.
The enemy patrol crept only yards away. Tight formation. Barrels steadily sweeping the brush. The point-man gave the hand signal for a stop. These guys were pros; they must have sensed something was off.
Scorpio had his orders; wait until the patrol entered the bottleneck. But he knew that things had just become now-or-never.
Leaping from his cover with a roar, the trigger on his weapon squeezed tight, Scorpio lasted about 4 seconds before he started taking hits and his camo jacket was covered in bright yellow splotches of paint.
Crime Scene Blues
Version
Crimson.1
Stone sighed, took a sip of the stale coffee. Riveta never used to let the pot go stale; she'd either drink it all too fast or make sure a new one got made. He missed her so much. The counselor said that was going to be the case for a long time.
Stone actually preferred it when the other shields busted his chops about seeing the shrink. They made lots of Frasier jokes, and Tony Soprano jokes, and Stone felt a little bit normal. For a little while.
He tried to focus on the bag of evidence from the latest vic. He had his notebook out, but there wasn't much to write about. A lighter, cheap convenience-store type. And the piece of paper, folded, crumpled.
A list.
how i answer the phone
the comic book contest
crows cawing
social-networking software
art vs helping
classmates
The writing getting sloppier, or more hurried, with each item. Two more things.
sun vs moon
anti-max
Stone took another sip. Riveta always loved a good mystery...
Stone sighed, took a sip of the stale coffee. Riveta never used to let the pot go stale; she'd either drink it all too fast or make sure a new one got made. He missed her so much. The counselor said that was going to be the case for a long time.
Stone actually preferred it when the other shields busted his chops about seeing the shrink. They made lots of Frasier jokes, and Tony Soprano jokes, and Stone felt a little bit normal. For a little while.
He tried to focus on the bag of evidence from the latest vic. He had his notebook out, but there wasn't much to write about. A lighter, cheap convenience-store type. And the piece of paper, folded, crumpled.
A list.
how i answer the phone
the comic book contest
crows cawing
social-networking software
art vs helping
classmates
The writing getting sloppier, or more hurried, with each item. Two more things.
sun vs moon
anti-max
Stone took another sip. Riveta always loved a good mystery...
Primal Urge
Version
Echo Foxtrot
It was the alcohol talking, that's what she figured. Why else would anybody make up a blatant lie like that. She stood there, arms folded at her chest, and she glared at him with eyes that a snake could love.
"But sweetie," he said. "It's true. It's the bona fide truth!"
"That's bona fide bullshit," she snapped back. She had the urge to punch his lights out, but she held back that primal instinct.
"Honey..."
"Don't you dare 'honey' me," she interrupted. Her arms fell down to her side and she clenched her fist.
She didn't know why something so lame would make her primal urges kick in; she knew that something inside her awoke and that she was about to unleash hell.
"Baby doll..." he began but never finished as Maggie smashed her fist into his face. And to Maggie that felt exhilarating.
It was the alcohol talking, that's what she figured. Why else would anybody make up a blatant lie like that. She stood there, arms folded at her chest, and she glared at him with eyes that a snake could love.
"But sweetie," he said. "It's true. It's the bona fide truth!"
"That's bona fide bullshit," she snapped back. She had the urge to punch his lights out, but she held back that primal instinct.
"Honey..."
"Don't you dare 'honey' me," she interrupted. Her arms fell down to her side and she clenched her fist.
She didn't know why something so lame would make her primal urges kick in; she knew that something inside her awoke and that she was about to unleash hell.
"Baby doll..." he began but never finished as Maggie smashed her fist into his face. And to Maggie that felt exhilarating.
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