Saturday, October 25, 2008

Chapter Two: 11 - 5 - 12

Chapter Two: 11 - 5 - 12

Beep… Beep… Beep…

A hand abruptly reached out… Beep… and turned off the alarm. The hand grabbed the little white pill while another hand reached for the glass of water. Both hands worked simultaneously to throw the pill to the back of the mouth and down the water in one effort. 2:30 and 4 second with out fail, every morning for as long as 22914 could remember. He wasn’t quite sure why he only let his alarm ring for 4 seconds instead of the usual ten minutes of ringing that was allowed. His section leader had asked him once why he didn’t sleep the extra ten minutes. 22914 would simply say that he thought it was a waste of good conscious silence.

22914 was now standing at the side of his bed. He wore a simple pair of thin white pants and nothing on top. Most of the Omega Birth were 5’10”. However, 22914 was noticeably taller, though his record stated that he was 5’10”. Maybe it was his strong stature, or maybe the way he walked as if he knew something that no one else did. His body was strong but tempered; his broad shoulders seemed to carry the whole of him. He had a slight bounce in his first step, and then he coolly glided from place to place.

Quickly he walked to the glass wall at the east end of his room and looked out over Chicago. His eyes rested on a building two miles across town, close to the lake front. It was taller then most of the buildings that surrounded it; a sentinel for the rest to bow too. His building, 772-232, was one of the tallest buildings in central Chicago; it was about the first build after the social community reform act pre-omega. There were bigger buildings in West Chicago, but they had been built post-omega.

He lowered his eyes to the dark streets below. 57, 8 foot floors down was a cave of avenues, winding monotonously in square patterns over endless grids of metropolis. The streets were empty, but he could see some of the flicking neon lights in the darkness, every now and then one would go out.

22914 closed his dauntless eyes and gently tilted his head back. He took a deep relaxing breath in through his nose, drawing his shoulders back and his chest out. When he opened his eyes he was looking up at the murky sky. He could see the pale hint of the sun behind the ominous obscurity. Half of his mouth smiled satirically and his eyes returned to the building across the city. He squinted to see the symbol that was flashing on the side of the building. “Numerology”, he thought.

A little static slipped on the clear pin in 22914’s ear and then noise flew back into his ear drums and on to his conscious mind. “Good Morning, How did you sleep, 2-2-9-1-4?” 22914 wondered if anyone actually answered the plastic voice that came every morning, but then he laughed knowing that for most people it was a crime not to answer. He turned abruptly and walked out the door into the white thin hall way.

Men were entering the hallway from both sides, heading to the south end of the building. They were all about the same height, give or take a centimeter here and there. 22914 followed in suit and ended at the queue to enter the shower.

“Think it will be a nice day brother?” asked 7515 from behind.

Without turning, 22914 answered, “I’m not sure. Think I saw the sun.”

“No!” 7515 said in disbelief, “I haven’t seen the sun in 4 years. Suppose, there’s been a delay in production?”

“No, I think I just caught the tale end of it. I’m sure nothing has changed”

22914 was bored with 7515’s questions and inability to grasp what seemed clear to him. Still, 7515 went on.

“How is the department of sleep theology?”

“Then he must bring up work!” thought 22914. Quickly he controlled himself and composed his thoughts. “I really enjoy it.” He said patiently.

“Wonderful!” 7515 said with a satisfied smile on his face.

“No one likes to hear the negative. No one likes to hear the negative. No one likes to hear the negative.” 22914 repeated in his mind as he slipped his pants off and put them into the waste basket.

The shower was always a little awkward for 22914. The primary means to conserve water was air and pressure in the showers. 22914 stepped naked in front of a tiled wall next to a thin pale looking creature. From three separate wall aperture, covering from head to foot, air shot wildly out accompanied by a small amount of scolding hot water and a green soap substance. After 30 seconds, both him and his pale colleague, walked to the far end of the shower and took one towel each.
At one time 22914 had known this astonishingly gaunt looking man. “What is it?” he thought as he dried himself. He looked intently at the man next to him. He was sure that this nameless man was at least an inch shorter then himself. “What is his name?” He passionately thought again. “This will kill me.” Mustering up the courage he reached out and touched the familiar stranger’s arm. He looked up quickly at 22914.
“I’m sorry brother,” then he hesitated and almost past the contact as mere coincidence, “bu… but what’s your name.”

“Not sure that it matters.” the man said coolly, and seeing that he had not satisfied 22914, went languishingly on. “It’s 11-5-12.”

“Yeah, thats it, but don’t you mean 1-1-5-1-2?” and he look curiously at the creature.

11512 didn’t look up, but 22914 saw a trace of a weak smile on 11512’s face, “Yeah, sorry. That is 1-1-5-1-2. ” and before 22914 had time to respond, 11512 was gone. A bit dumbfounded by the episode, 22914 walked out of the shower, leaving the towel on the ground for the department of toiletry theology to come and remove.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Chapter One: Morning

Finally after 2 years with out Windows accessories I am back into the real world with Windows Office. This might not seem to significant BUT it means I can access some old Word documents that I had written years ago. Included in this are 5 chapters of a book I started and will now be able to finish... as soon as I finishing writting Mindi's paper on Muhammad (actaully fun!) But in celebration of getting Windows back and of creative writting... I am going to post the first chapter of my Book: The Down Side of Absolutes. This is the tenative title and a tentative first chapter... but too my many readers, ENJOY!

Chapter One: Morning

The sun crept anxiously over the eastern water, silhouetted by the remarkable buildings or the west shore. Dancing sunbeams reflected off the glass casings in a beautiful ballet of illumination. The varied buildings were like crowds of tall, short and stout spectators for each building, playing off each others light; dancing back and forth like wild children. The magnetic masquerade tramped on. Crowded buildings grew brighter, as the day began. Until they glowed like great individual torches protruding from the sleeping city.

Clouds listlessly rolled over the city, not anxious to rain, or snow or even give shade for that matter; they were simply passing the time. Like the buildings, the clouds danced in the lazy blue sky. Underneath the clouds, the sun glided softly, tickling their bellies with incandescent colors. If anyone could have remembered things like cotton candy and fluffy down pillows, they probably would have compared them with the passing clouds. But no one notices the clouds anymore. However, clouds still billowed boldly in the brilliant sky and the sun danced off auspicious buildings.

The silence of the morning was mesmerizing; you could feel the fresh breath of the day taking in new life. Opportunity is almost as thick as butter in the morning; you can reach out and cut chance with a knife. There is a saying that no one remembered “The early bird catches the worm.” It had no meaning in Omega20025, for there were no birds that fluttered in the open, no worms at all and every one woke up at the same time. However, when it was first introduced in the late 1600s when language came about naturally, it meant, “Success comes to those who prepare well and put in effort” Here, since success was measured by the collective, everything was prepared for you and no effort was required, it was deemed use less. Though, it was still a true principal that those who prepared well and put in effort were successful.

Dust particles hovered graciously in the air of 22914’s room, magnified by the morning sun. They danced slowly, suspended like stars in the night sky. A glass wall faced the eastern sky, and the sun pored in, lighting the white room. The room was simple. Everything was stone white, white walls, sealing and floor. There were no pictures of family, or adventurous vacations, in fact there were no pictures at all, only a black symbol in the center of the Northern wall. The room was deeper then it was wide and far at the western end was a single bed. It stood about 12 inches off the ground and was the purest white imaginable.

The bed had one sheet on it for the room was neither cold nor hot. The sheet rapped peacefully around the bed’s occupant who slept quietly in the morning sun. His face was long and soft, patient and passionate, bold and meek. The sun burnt all the way to the back of the room, atop the bed and onto the face of 22914. His pink lips curved up at the ends and his thin cheeks matched his lips in structure. He seemed to be smiling, but one could never tell. His eyes moved violently behind their lids, up and down, side to side. One eye lips twitched and then relaxed. 22914 rhythmic breathing pounded on.

Next to the bed was the only other furniture in the room, a night stand. On the night stand were four items; a clock, a book, a glass of water and a white pill. The room was empty, other then these four items, the bed and the night stand. The dust that freckled the air did not last long enough to settle onto the floor or the bed. They would dissolved before they had a chance to rest.

The morning etched on, and the sun flew higher in the sky. Long shadows faded into slivers, small stumps of the once great majestic black clones that tore across streets and up the sides of buildings; shadows of trees that moments before towered over a hundred yards now hid under the leaves of their master. The clouds lost their magic and the dance of the sunbeams ended.

From the earth rose the terror of industry, like ravenous wolves devouring beauty. Its anger for the morning filled the sky with black, grey and brown. Hovering monotonously like a guilty conscious and asking no forgiveness. Then, as though it had never been there the sun was gone, lost behind the dark mirage. And the city grew dark with rage. Rage, because it had lost the sun. Rage because the dance was over. Rage, because it was cold and had forgotten the hope of the next day.

Now shadows consumed the city. Dark corners hid irate memories. The only light came from new crude bulbs that flickered in the darkness. The darkness obsessed over the light and took every opportunity to blot it out. Penitent city workers replaced the lights only to find that more had been mercilessly emptied by the darkness. Cold dark building that once had blazed proudly in the morning sun, now hung like cold beaten stone over the city.

22914’s room was stale and bitter with the darkness. The light had not changed anything, only tried to burn its memory. 22914’s clock read 2:29 TM, then clicked 2:30 TM and like all the clocks in Chicago, beeped.