I had several other posts lined up, but I’m going to jump this one ahead.
I had sort of abandoned my second book of Science Fiction stories a couple of months back. I was shooting for about twelve stories. I usually like to keep a collection around 43,000 words or so. When I dropped everything, I was about sixty percent of the way through story number seven. I just stepped away.
Mainly I’ve been busy with other things. The past three weeks or so I’ve been working on small programming projects and considering writing a basic book on that subject.
And then a friend called and said he had just gotten around to reading The Red Kimono, which was my first Sci fi collection. He liked it, especially the story “Resonance Shift.” He said that he was tempted to say it is one of the best stories I’ve ever written. Well, different people like different stories, and different types of stories. I like that story too, but I like most of my stories. It all just depends on my mood, etc. I certainly enjoy writing each of the stories. If I didn’t enjoy it, I would stop.
In any case, we talked about several of the stories. As a result of the conversation, I started to get motivated again, and decided to at least finish the collection I had started. So, Friday afternoon I sat down and read over what I had written so far. I made a few adjustments here and there, but was pleased, overall. I only had a vague idea of where I was going with story #7. I kind of remembered, but once I got working on it, things went in a totally different direction. All I had beyond that were a few titles and a couple of snippets for the rest of the book. I had two other stories that I had lying around, one of which I had considered putting up on Wattpad. I changed my mind. It is a story about a man who comes to realize he’s in a coma, and then soon after realizing, hears enough of outside conversation to figure out that his family is intending to pull the plug. The story then veers into the realm of Sci fi as he figures out how to try and communicate. So I threw both of these stories in. And then I wrote up another one.
Well, the coma story is a little over 9,000 words. So, now I’ve got ten stories and am way up to just under 48,000 words. And with the following bit of story number eleven, which is a little over 1,200 words, things are adding up.
The thing is, on the following story, I’m just getting started. I haven’t even gotten to the meat of the story. It’s all just characters standing in a line waiting to get into a building. You might say that each of them is there for an audition to be a part of the main cast of the story. I’m not sure who is going to be the central figure once the story gets rolling. Initially it was going to be Laura, and maybe her boyfriend, Jared. There are several interesting characters popping up, so we’ll see. Laura might in fact be the central figure, I’m still leaning that way. There is a smallish kid who I’m just now thinking his name is possibly Graham. He keeps sort of tugging at my imagination for a larger part, once things get rolling. When you read this preview, he will be the kid who gets corrected on “Rocky Horror.” I don’t know, a lot of interesting characters . . .
And once these characters get inside, into the main part of the story, it might turn into something. All of them are in Victorian garb, and that will be the setting. I’m thinking of a sort of Jack the Ripper on the loose sort of thing . . .
There are probably a few errors in the following piece, and certainly things I need to check into. For instance, I’m not sure I’ve got the collar thing right, or some of the other clothing. So, I’ve got some research yet to do.
In any case, enjoy the preview of the characters. Who knows what will flesh out to be the final story? I certainly don’t have a clue. You’d think I would have some idea, being that I’m the author. But therein lies the fun of it all. Writing this bit, along with finishing story number seven, got me excited. I can’t wait to see what happens. This story already looks like five thousand words will be the minimum word count. So, in the end I’ll have to do some finagling to fit all the stories in. But that’s for me to worry about.
You just read and enjoy!
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It’s Something Like Russian Roulette
“Can you fix my collar?” Jared asked.
Laura smiled good naturedly and reached up to re-attach Jared’s collar.
“I don’t know how people wore these things back in the day. Why would anyone want a collar that wasn’t permanently attached to a shirt?”
“I believe it had something to do with the laundry situation,” said a girl in front of them in the line.
“Or lack thereof,” someone else chimed in. A few people laughed.
All were dressed in Victorian style attire.
“I suppose all you guys think these tight corsets are comfortable?” said a a young woman.
“Oh, excruciating,” exclaimed another woman.
“Totally impossible. I’m not sure I’m going to last out the whole game in mine,” said another girl. She was early twenties or so, a few years younger than Jared and Laura. “Do they throw you out if you disrobe?”
Several people laughed. There were a couple of catcalls, and whistles. More laughter.
“I don’t believe anyone actually sees you. I believe you’re in your own little room, lying on a type of bed, or narrow pod,” said someone. It was a short, balding young man who spoke. He too, was about twenty-eight or so. He sort of squirmed, suddenly realizing that he had everyone’s attention. “I read up on it,” he said nervously. “That’s, . . . well, it’s how they scan you into the program.”
“No it’s not,” said someone else. This man was tall and thin, and older, closer to thirty-five or so. “They scan you before you lie down in the booth. They scan you when you first go in. You’re standing up, the robotic arms circle around you to capture the whole of you. Then the system creates your 3D scan, the avatar self, your avatar self.” The man paused and looked at the crowd in the line. No one asked him anything. He continued: “The booth does scan, also, but it’s mainly just to touch things up on the main avatar. Once inside, and moving around, the stress on the system sort of pulls and tugs at the image. If everyone is moving around a lot, and too fast, the avatars get choppy or glitchy sometimes, and the touch up booth is how they repaint and repair the 3D image of you.”
Still no one spoke. And then the silence was broken by someone blurting out in the most Victorian accent he could muster, “Well the young missus is welcome to disrobe any time she might feel the urge, I say.”
The crowd laughed. Having an audience, he continued. “I’ll go rounds with any bloke that has any arguments against the young lady disrobing!” There was a little more laughter, but then all seemed to turn away. The line moved forward a few feet as another five people were let inside the building.
“It sure does take a long time to get in,” said Laura. Her friend, Nadia smiled in agreement. She shook her head up and down.
“Probably due to the time it takes to do the scans,” said Nadia’s boyfriend, Ian.
“I don’t know, but I wish they would speed things up.” Jared ran a finger around the uncomfortable collar, almost causing it to spring loose again.
“Careful,” said Laura. “I just got it looking right.”
“I know, but it’s really getting to me.”
“Want to go do something else?”
“No, that’s okay. Besides, we already paid for the thing, and the costumes.”
“And it wasn’t cheap,” said Nadia. She looked at Ian. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.
Someone just behind them in line said, “My aunt says it’s like the old movie, or play where everyone went and dressed up and then threw rice and things like that. What was that called? ‘Rocky Horror . . .’ something or other.”
“It’s not at all like ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show,’” said an older gentleman behind him. The boy who had spoken first, looked at the man. “I’m sorry, but it’s not at all like that, really.” The man must have been late forties. His wife nudged him in the side. “What?” he said, looking at her. “It’s not. This is totally different.” His wife smiled a friendly smile at the boy who had spoken initially.
“Well, dear,” the man’s wife whispered, “maybe the show was different where his aunt lived.”
“No it wasn’t. It was the same all over the country.” His voice wasn’t really loud or challenging, just matter of fact. He raised his head and looked around, just sort of observing the crowd. He was finished talking about it.
The young man had already turned back to his own small group and stood silent. Both sides of the young man’s collar had sprung loose. He was short and chubby. His cheeks were cherubic, and had a touch more red in them now. He removed the bowler from atop his head and began smoothing the material, playing with the inside, trying to adjust it. When he had lifted the hat off of his head, his dark brown curls sprung up and outward.
And so it went . . .
The crowd stood silent for a few minutes. All dressed in frock coats and top hats, or bowlers. There were a few straw boaters in the crowd, and flannel trousers. Cravats and corsets were aplenty. The women were prim and proper Victorian women, wearing brooches at the neck with silhouette likenesses. Some of the women carried parasols. The only thing that would have added more realism to the whole scene would have been if there had been carriages moving up and down the street.
The crowd shifted forward again. All moved in an awkward unison, with only the occasional gaps occurring when someone was not paying any attention. It was a languid panoply, a display of somewhat bored people fidgeting and scratching, a slight murmur emerging here and there among the crowd.
“Is it the same every night?” someone asked a friend.
“I don’t know for sure. I believe they’ve had séances a time or two, but tonight the game is Russian Roulette.”
“What the hell?” his friend said. “You mean we get to blow our brains out for fun?” He laughed.
“That’s supposed to be ‘bloody ‘ell’ I think,” said another friend.
“Mike, I’ll blow your brains out for you if you want,” said a buxom blonde friend. “Be more than happy to.”
The group laughed.
“That should be ‘appy, methinks mate,” said her girlfriend.
“Thanks, Missy. You blew my brains out often enough when we dated. Enjoyed it very much.”
“Ooh,” responded the rest of their small group.
“Ouch,” said someone else.
“Good one,” came another voice.
Missy scrunched up her face in a scowl and aimed it at Mike. She stuck out her tongue. He grinned back at her.
The woman whose husband had corrected the kid about Rocky Horror, looked up at him. She didn’t quite roll her eyes, but was on the verge of doing so. Her husband was busy taking in all of the surroundings, not really paying her any attention.
The kid who had gotten corrected about Rocky Horror, once again had his bowler planted firmly on his head. His collar still stood up on both sides. He grinned at his young buddy.
The crowd shifted once again and all moved forward.