Beginnings

freeyourmind

A few words first. This isn't going to include names of people from the site (maybe as minor characters later, in a cameo, but that remains to be seen), and it won't be an action story for the most part. I've planned this more or less from beginnings to end which means there's less chance of writer's block, but it also means that I have to be careful that the chapters set it up right for the ending. So what I'm saying is keep patient (on the assumption that anyone does follow this), cos the updates here aren't going to be exactly on a regular basis, and please bare with me :D

Also, I've said this a lot to no avail but I'll give it a shot anyway - I am dying for feedback, be it positive or negative. Mainly negative really. If there's something in the language, the style, the pace, the readability, the credibility - anything that bugs you or that you'd like more of, I'd really appreciate hearing about it, in this thread or in PM. I'll try and deal with those issues as best I can in the future installments. Anyhow, here goes:

EDIT: I forgot to credit the girl at least us MHers might remember as Shadow Illuminus, for working with me to map the general story up. Thanks mate!

__________________


He took his eyes off the computer monitor and glanced at his watch. 4:30 am. He'd really outdone himself this time. He still didn't feel remotely tired, but thought he'd grab himself a cup of water.
Rubbing his eyes furiously, he got up from his chair and walked up to the bedroom door. He'd pulled it half open when it slammed itself back shut, causing him to stumble forwards slightly. 'what?' he exclaimed, incredulous. He pulled at the handle again, but the door wouldn't budge.
A strange feeling overtook him. He felt confined, trapped, starved. He ran, panic-struck, to his room's window, and tried to pull it open with all his might. Nothing.
Screaming in rage and desperation he punched at the window, clawed at it, cursed at it, but the feeling wouldn't subside. He picked up his chair and threw it at the unrelenting window with strength he didn't even know he had in him. The chair connected and then bounced back, barely missing him as he ducked, crashing to the floor in a broken mess.

BEEP.

His chest heaving, he turned towards the source of the noise – apprantely his computer. The image of his favourite chatroom on the monitor had been replaced by a black screen. He stared at it, blank eyed, for a few seconds.

BEEP.

Two words had appeared on the screen: "GET OUT."
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" he moaned, barely holding his tears now. He slumped back onto his bed, his head between his hands. What was he supposed to do?

BEEP.

He looked up at the monitor. The beeping was beginning to concern him. He walked over to the computer and tried to exit whatever program had brought on this black screen.

BEEP.

The beeping was becoming more frequent now, and the sounds increasingly unsettling.

BEEP. BEEP.

"What is this?" he said, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn't exit the program.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

He tried resetting. Nothing. Tried shutting off the computer, disconnecting the electricity. The words remained.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

He could now clearly tell that the beeping sound was coming from the computer. He disconnected its wires from it, picked it up, and smashed it down on the floor. But the computer, lying on its side, was seemingly unharmed.

The beepings were now no longer separated by any stretch of time. They had grown into a constant, mechanical whine, that was growing louder by the second.

He backed away from his computer and into a wall. The noise was becoming unbearable. He shut off his ears with his palms and sank down to the floor, his eyes closed tightly shut. He was afraid, alone, and confused. In spite of himself he felt tears start to stream down his face.

Then, it stopped.

He rose up slowly, and walked cautiously towards his computer. It's whine had turned into a low humming now, but it was getting louder.

Sensing that this was his chance, he surveyed the room anxiously, searching for an opening. His eyes seemed drawn back to the words on the monitor. "Get out" he mouthed, "get out. Where? Why?"

He was running out of time. The humming itself was now approaching deafenning volume. He looked back down at the computer, and only then noticed the enormous heat emanating from it.

Just when he thought he couldn't take the noise no longer, an even louder one invaded his senses. An explosion filled his ears and rocked him off his feet. The walls around him and the ceiling burst outwards, and his body was catapulted out into the night sky.

He spun in midair and looked down at the rubble of what was once his home.
Everything was gone.

But he had no time to dwell on that. He was plummeting down fast towards the street below. He opened his mouth in a silent scream as he saw the sidewalk rushing towards him, and then, to his surprise, he fell through it. For a few moments asphalt filled his vision and pressed lightly against his body, bending in as if to accommodate him, and then it snapped back up, throwing his body into the air once more. But the fall was already braced, its momentum killed, and caused him no damage as he lay sprawled down on the road.

Slowly he arose, surveying the street around him. It was busy, despite the hour, and all around him people were walking, going about their businesses in an eerily impersonal way. None of them were talking, and as he looked harder he was surprised to find that he could not make up any faces in the crowd.
His thoughts were interrupted as a cautious instinct compelled him to turn around. A few tens of metres in front of him he spotted three faceless men, something untraceably menacing about them, studying him coldly.
The men exchanged glances, one of them nodded, and slowly they begun to walk towards him.

He started backing away in a start, felt that unshakeable instinct kick in again and turned to break into a full run. Glancing back behind his shoulder he saw that the men weren't going to give up. They were running, and running fast.

Closing his eyes in fear and concentration he kept at it, ignoring his exhaustion, but to no avail. He felt a hand brush against his shoulder. Turning his head in alarm he saw one of the men make another grab at him, this time managing to grasp flesh. The man's hand caught his skin somewhere between the back of his neck and his shoulder, and he felt his consciousness and life-force slowly leaving him.

He began to realize that this is the end, but then was suddenly consumed by rage. This couldn't be the end. He wasn't finished yet. Snapping back into life he pushed the shocked man's hand away, and mustered as much of this new, mysterious power as he could, to break into another, faster, sprint.

Spying the city harbour up ahead of him, he was gripped by an overwhelming desire to get to the sea. He had to get to the sea.

Not far now. He glanced over shoulder to find the men still running but farther away than before, and turned back just in time to dive inside.
A feeling of safety overtook him. He came above water to find the three men standing on land, staring at him maliciously but helplessly. Finally, their bodies fell motionless to the floor. He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

But his feeling of safety was short lived. He was suddenly and violently pulled underwater by his foot. He turned around, exhausted, to find an enormous octopus staring him down with unmistakable hatred in its eyes. It raised two of its tentacles and smashed him in his face and chest. Then, with the wind knocked out of him, the octopus proceeded to bring every one of its tentacles to his throat, applying pressure and suffocating him.
He was completely helpless this time, too tired to try and resist, and closed his eyes, waiting for his death.

But it wouldn't come. With a squeal the beast disconnected all of its tentacles from him, and he felt the water pressure around him suddenly disappear. He opened his eyes and found himself falling again, from the sky. Staring down in horror he frantically glanced around, desperate to try and find a way out. He hit a hard surface, a body, and was picked up by two massive arms, brought up to come to face to face with what held him. He regarded the creature in confusion and horror. It appeared to be another octopus, even larger, but metallic, with too many eyes to count.

The terrifying monster held his weak, insignificant body up so that he faced the sky. Perspiring madly and breathing heavily, he tried not to think of what would be done to him. He heard a deafening roar, and the clinking of metal, and as he felt the cold, sharp tentacle cut into his back and out through his heart, the 18-year old Thomas A. Anderson woke up with a terrified and anguished scream.
DonDaddy

Aside from a few spots where a word was repeated or the wrong tense was used, there are no complaints in the grammar department. As for the sotry, I like the start. Im not sure if you have done so purposely, but the lack of detail and information can be confusing and make the story move in an unsual manner.
freeyourmind

I was sort of trying to make it a disconcerting nightmare, so in that respect the detail was intentionally vague. Question is, do you think it worked? Or too random to be readable?
DonDaddy

I was able to understand and follow it, so it wasnt unreadable. Certainly disorienting and interesting though.
NMN

I like the start there, buddy. One thing though, is the entering. I'm not sure if you intentionally placed all your enters with no space in between and the lack of paragraphs, maybe to convey the fluid motion of the dream, but too many words mashed together makes for the illusion of a daunting read and unconciously deters people from reading, myself included. I hate reading large mashed posts. So, yeah, but good nonetheless.
freeyourmind

I can see your point. Somehow it looked less crappy in word (where the spell-check wasn't working for some reason). Thanks.
freeyourmind

Chapter 2:


It took a long time for Thomas's breathing to calm down. This nightmare was more than frightening, it was pained with sorrow. The relief that usually came when he realized his nightmares were only that, refused to come. The fear was still fresh in his heart and the dream haunted his mind in still vivid detail.
He had fallen asleep on his computer's keyboard. That, coupled with his waking up screaming, suddenly brought on a wave of embarrasment that pushed the uncomfortable feeling away, but was not altogether better.
Sighing, he rose from his seat and went over to the shower to wash the keyboard markings off.

At breakfast, he didn't find his feeling improved.
- "Everything alright Tom?" asked his mother, pouring some cereal into her bowl.
- "Ah, let the boy be," said his dad, ruffling his hair. "Exam season's coming up. How could he not be heartbroken?"
Thomas felt a wave of anger coming in, but pushed it away quickly.
- "I'm fine," he said curtly. "Just a little stressed."
His parents exchanged apprehensive glances but decided to drop it.
The rest of the meal was finished up in complete silence.
Chewing silently, Thomas wondered where his dream had come from. Had the previous day held any particular significance? No, he decided. It was a day as all other days. But then, that was not exactly a comforting thought, was it?

As he walked out and started on his way to school the subject was still very much on his mind. He could still feel the helplessness of his ordeal, the sheer dependence. It was as if there was nothing he could possibly do to change anything. Not that that was an unfamiliar feeling to him, he smiled meekly. And yet, he seemed then to possess some kind of power. A potential…
- "Hey, Tom, wait up," gasped a familiar voice from behind him between breaths.
Thomas turned around to find David jogging towards him excitedly.

David Young was Thomas's best and only real friend. They had known each other since childhood, from before Thomas had his big falling out with trust of those around him. Though of somewhat similar build and look – medium height, a little skinny, brown hair and eyes, sharp nose – David was almost Thomas's polar-opposite. Vibrant and full of life, wildly friendly, with a pervasive sense of humour, it was tough for many to see how he and this sad, brooding, lonely mess of a person became friends to begin with. For his part, David couldn't understand how people could not see what a caring person and loyal friend Thomas was.

- "Good morning Dave," said Thomas, grinning at David's enthusiasm. "What's the good news?"
- "The sun is shining," laughed David, gesturing up towards it with his hand. "And we've got a fantastic day of school ahead of us."
- "And?" said Thomas, raising an eyebrow.
- "Nothing, nothing. Just glad to have caught you this morning."
David was a hopeless oversleeper. This must have been the first time in weeks that he got up in time for the first lesson.
- "Say, man, are you alright?" continued David, suddenly worried.
- "Yeah. Sure. Why?"
- "You look kinda pale."
- "I thought I always looked pale," said Thomas, laughing nervously.
- "Naw, man. You sure you're alright?
Thomas moved his head from side to side contemplatively. "You know. It's stressful, this time of year."
David eyed him mock-suspiciously. "You sure?" he asked again.
Thomas turned his head towards him, biting the side of his tongue thoughtfully. No, I'm not alright. I'm scared out of my brains. Everything's slipping.
- "I'm sure," he said finally. "Pretty sure."

* * *

"Get out, get out," mumbled Thomas voicelessly later that day in their history class. Out of what, dammit? And where to?
He was snapped out of his thoughts as he realized the whole class was staring at him. He looked around in panic. Had he said anything?
- "Mr Anderson," enunciated his teacher slowly, obviously irritated. "If I might be allowed to waste your precious time with my questions…"
- "Yes?" said Thomas.
- "Thank you. So, what were the events that brought on the 1282 European mechanical meltdown?"
- "Well, the resurgence for one," said Thomas, feeling fortunate, as this was one particular subject that he did have a firm grip and opinion on.
- "Excuse me?"
- "The resurgence."
- "Yes, I heard what you said," snapped the teacher. "What's the resurgence got to do with anything?"
- "The machines… felt threatened. Suddenly men were getting powerful, confident. Self-reliant…" Thomas paused, trying to find words to articulate his thoughts. "All this new freedom was dangerous for the powers tha–"
- "Stop," said the teacher, putting his hand forwards as if to block Thomas's words. "Just stop. You're not even close and it's obvious you have no idea what you're talking about."
- "What? I didn't make this up," replied Thomas, slightly taken aback. "It's a well-known theory that –"
- "It's wrong and it's time-consuming," interrupted the teacher again. "We have more important things to –"
- "What?? Come on, that's just… that's crap!" said Thomas incredulously.
- "Hey. Watch it," said the teacher, pointing a meancing finger at him.
- "But… that's crazy! You bring up a controversial historical event like that and you expect us to just accept the explanation the textbook gives?" Again, the class was staring at him, even more disbelieving this time.
- "I've got nothing against theories," replied the teacher, trying without success to hide his fury, "but not when they're the absolute opposite of the widely accepted professional interpretation."
- "Opposite?"
- "The machination of society was the solution, not the catalyst, for the meltdown. The meltdown was preceded by decades of negligence by the human supervisors. The human margin of error put the whole control of society's mechanical infrastructure in jeopardy. The machines were too primitive to spot mistakes, too ignorant. Humans were at their peak but they still couldn't fix the problem. The lesson this period in history teaches us is that we must shed ourselves of arrogance, that we must know where our power ends, and you, Mr Anderson, are taking this to mean that we were not powerful enough. What is the point of learning history if it teaches us nothing?"
- "But who's to say your version's right?"
- "It is the concensus among history scholars. It is one of the founding principles of society today. Where you even heard your version I can only guess."
- "But that's what I'm saying! The truth was twisted so that –"
- "By whom?"
- "By the machines! They melted themselves down! It was safer for them to have humans think it was all our fault, and to be afraid to put their heads up. It made it easier for them to crush any resistance to their rule."
- "Uh-huh. I see," said the teacher, trading his anger for dismissiveness, "it's an AI thing is it? A grand conspiracy?"
Thomas caught his anger just in time to contain it. The stuck-up prick.
He said nothing.
- "Yeah, well, it figures," continued the teacher. "Please don't waste class time like that. Moving onwards…"

* * *

He came back from school to an empty house, and went almost automatically to his bedroom computer. He had some programming to finish up.

Programming was his favourite pastime activity, and probably his biggest talent. When he programmed, he could lose himself in it – forget who and where he was, and just follow his "instincts" to create more or less whatever he wanted. He'd done some hacking, but nothing serious, and he was always careful not to leave any prints behind. He was currently working on hacking into the defense ministry's computer systems, in order to study their plans from inside - see if society's leadership was really as twisted as he thought it was. It was his most ambitous hacking project to date, and he had been devoting most of his free time to it.

But for some reason he now found himself inexplicably drawn towards the chat window that was left perpetually open. He scanned the network for hours, bored, but with a strange sense of purpose, occasionally stopping in a room to swap a few words.
Finally, he found something. One of the rooms in the list on the sidebar caught his eye: "Extra Mith."
Curiously and a little excitedly he clicked himself inside the room. The pseudonym he used for chats was the same as the one he used for his hacking:

<neo> hiya fellas
<LiveWire> how the hell did you find this room?
<niva> asl?
<neo> I have my ways lol
<neo> 18 male Chicago
<TheDon> shit
<LiveWire> wow. Get ready for some action soon then…
<HomoUniversalis> LiveWire!
<LiveWire> hey, if he could find his way here he probably deserves to know
<niva> he's got a point
<HomoUniversalis> you guys serious?
<neo> what's going on?
<LiveWire> yes. Dead serious
<Eon> hey Neo nice name.
<Eon> what's it stand for?
<neo> lmao. you guys are nuts
<neo> dunno. Newness. A change, you know?
<HomoUniversalis> heh. Sounds like my kinda guy
<neo> you do realize you spelt Myth wrong?
<niva> haha. That's not all there is to it
<TheDon> It's an anagram.
<neo> what for?
<TheDon> well if you don't know then you're not ready yet.
<LiveWire> listen Neo. Something's going down in your hometown tommorow night
<neo> what?
<LiveWire> well, let's just say it has to do with the anagram.
<niva> be at Medusa's tommrow night at 22:30
<neo> medusa?
<Eon> it's a club
<niva> go there and you'll see
<niva> 27th Serpico street
<Eon> be there
<TheDon> good luck
<HomoUniversalis> I hope you know what you're doing man
<neo> I don’t

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Lots of setting up here. Hope it wasn't boring. I'm especially itching to know if the lack of description hurts the story. All other comments are very welcome and wanted too though.
NMN

Very good story. I'm quite intrigued, and the lack of description sometimes is good to keep the fluency of the story. It's moving along quite nicely.
freeyourmind

Thanks. I just remembered what else was bugging me - does what they're talking about in the history lesson make any sense?
NMN

Was it about the Second Renaissance from the Animatrix?
freeyourmind

Unfortunately, no. Damn. Well, I'll explain it more further down the road.
MacLeod

I love it. This if I'm not wrong is reminiscent of Truth's earlier piece...a preliminary matrix. A very convoluted plot, lots of details with winks in them (I love the faceless agents bit), and very good philosophy thrown in. It may not be about the Renaissance (I'm thinking its about the first AI-human disputes, with a touch of I, Robot-like AI mentality), but the implications have been sewn. Glad it's you writing FYM...now this is quality work.
DonDaddy

So....are you going to be continuing this story? Its been a while man. I hope you have another installment planned and on its way real soon.
Swampy

Much as I hate to agree with TD, he's got a point. When you gonna write some more you crazy Jew?
freeyourmind

Sorry about that. This is more laziness than writer's block. I should have the next one (or two) up in the coming few days. Hold your breath!
Hitman

DUDE! 'bout time you finally penned a story, and what a start you've got. I'm impressed, honestly. Let's see where this rabbit hole goes...

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