Sci Fi & Fantasy / Majitsu/Mechanica (6)
Present day
There is no excess of time this morning. The frigid January air carries the hum of rush-hour through the city as rubbernecks and police vehicles bring the flow of inner city traffic to a crawl. Like the frustrated populous that inches forward much more slowly than she can walk, Elise is also going to be late. Despite that, she’s taken a detour.
At the center of this mess, at the very bottleneck of the flow of traffic is a water-main explosion. Or at least, that’s what the news will be calling it. But Elise knows better. A cold breeze induces a shiver in her as she looks up at the former battlefield, its steel and rebar skeleton reaching upward, beyond the cold, grey concrete of the more complete floors below. A building that was once haunted, but, as of last night, has been completely cleansed. And the site of the battle, the arena for a showdown on a scale that she wouldn’t understand, is now simply a flooded crater.
Seeing the extent of damage, seeing the carnage of the forces that clashed here; the aftermath gives her a renewed sense of awe. Though at first, it was amazement when Vio had carried him home in such a state. Jordan was, at the time, nearly dead, not from physical damage, but from a complete overload. For Elise to see him so broken, and simply be told that a fight had occurred, that could not be reconciled within the scope of her imagination. Now, looking at ground zero, she’s gripped in awe again--not because he was so hurt, but because he was only that hurt. Her frame of reference has changed.
If one wanted to recreate such a scene, they’d need a convoy of car bombs, or something on the level of military ordinance. Anyone who believes the official explanation needs to get their head examined, but, for public anxiety, that’s still preferable to the authorities calling it terrorism and having no clue who’s responsible.
For their sanity, people will just accept it. That is a natural resistance to the most dangerous poison, an ingrained aversion to the abomination that is majitsu.
The door is open to everyone, but in all the world, those willing to live outside of reason are very few. It’s not as simple as gaining superpowers, or as pleasant as having exclusive knowledge; any human who dives into the hidden world sacrifices their chance at a happy life. That world is not truly hidden, but merely edited out for the safety of the collective societal mind.
The earth has ambient energy, a flow of power, a stream of spirituality. The leyline system is best conceptualized as a magnetic field, and the soul is best represented as a copper wire. In all electric generators, metal moving through a magnetic field induces an electric current; a spinning turbine is simply a revolving magnet surrounded by copper coils. A mage is a turbine. The soul is an arrangement of magnetic lines of power, unique to every human. Essentially a soul is a leyline network written on a human, and, like a magnet moving through an electric field, individual soul leylines moving through the earth’s ambient field create a current--a magic current.
Because no human has a soul that matches the earth perfectly, as they move through life, they’re generating magic current like magnets moving through intense electric fields. The strangeness of the soul determines how much current is created; the closer to the natural, environmental ideal a soul is, the less current that difference will generate. Essentially, the souls moving through the earth’s field generate static based on how different they are.
Those freakishly powerful mages, those extremely unnatural people have the strongest current because their souls endure the most friction with the earth. Of course, that also means that their souls, because of the friction, will be worn down much more quickly.
Magic current is also known by another name: luck. Those are one in the same. Two names for a single concept. Those with a great deal of current are those who get all the breaks in life. Luck, like magic, is the ability to project one’s desired world on top of what exists. Even normal humans do this subconsciously. Desires, dreams, wishes, all of these are projections of will on reality, and those with the greatest current have the greatest effects. Those with the most realized effects are considered "lucky."
Just as all humans share certain archetypal dreams, this projection of luck is common to everyone. And, just like such a dream, attempting to understand it destroys it. It’s knowledge outside of human understanding, something that only exists when no one is directly looking at it. A mage who becomes aware of the voltage on their body looses that natural born spell. Becoming a mage is like switching the realization of desires from automatic to manual.
Most humans wish for love, safety, and happiness. The path to these goals is so complex, complicated and narrow that it’s impossible to follow within human perception. To put it simply: if a lucky person wishes for safety, then the entire world will move for them; all of reality, every cause and effect crossroad will be subconsciously influenced to keep this person safe. But a mage who wishes for safety can only bring it about through their action.
A mage can stand in an intersection and stop a speeding car. But what if another vehicle comes from outside of his perception? He will be hit, and killed. A lucky human will have influenced reality to the point where red lights on other streets, and traffic earlier in the day have slowed down these two cars to the point where they will not be in the intersection at the same time he is.
The path to happiness is ultimately beyond human understanding. And a mage, who can only affect what is understood, can never reach that goal within their own power. Therefore, no one in their right mind would ever become a mage, unless there’s another goal that can be reached, a goal that’s worth the sacrifice of natural human ignorance.
Jordan, Vio, and herself…they don’t have any goals like that. Their reasons for casting away reason are almost laughably circular when viewed in hindsight, though they didn’t realize it back then. It was misfortune that brought them all together, after all. Yet, Elise is thankful for it. To discard and throw away the pain from that experience is the disrespect all that was lost. Besides, she doesn’t feel right weighing the two possible directions of her life like that. If life had been fair, if the world had been kind to her, then she would have never met Vio and Jordan.
She would have never seen that magnificent scene. It’s an image that’s burned into her, the image of a man who stood up against the strongest opponent, the spray of sparks that stood still, propagating slowly comparison to the speed of flawless form. His movements were beautiful, his weapon was magnificent, and his face, the fire in his eyes as he opposed that twisted justice with the full force of his will, is the focus of that memory. Maybe that’s why she’s pursued him for so long; she wants a chance to see that heroic man again.
She can’t be thankful for it, because the price was so great. She lost something irreplaceable that day.
Elise understood immediately when Vio informed her that a sentinel had gotten involved last night. Of course Jordan would loose it. She…felt the same way. If it weren’t for that twisted justice, the person who was most precious to her would still be alive.
With the sentinels getting involved, Vio and Jordan are going to have their hands full stomping out those roaches. And, truthfully, if the Lodge becomes more heavy handed, there’s a good chance that all three of them could be “executed”. Elise doesn’t put it past them either. They aren’t out to save anything, as far as she can tell. That’s the behavior of someone trying to prevent something, not the way of someone attempting to save something.
The only way to prevent that, one that doesn’t include their deaths, that is, is to find that rouge mage that’s causing all this. Elise knows that she’ll have to take matters into her own hands now. She is a mage, therefore, simply observing is shameful and cowardly. Even if she can only help Jordan and Vio a little bit, shouldn’t she at least put forth the effort?
That zombie is still fresh in her memory, and the terror is still tangible enough to make her shiver at the thought. She’s not foolish; under no circumstance will she consider combat against that rouge magician. At least not in head to head battle. But, if an opportunity arises, she’ll need to do whatever she can to take him down…so isn’t non combat a ridiculous stipulation?
Of course. That incident with the zombie told Elise all that she needed to know. As she is now, if this city became a war zone, she’d be nothing more than a damsel in distress; a burden on those two. In that case, there are only two options: flee, or become useful.
Such a choice doesn't need to even be considered. She’ll need to train herself much harder.
After all these years, all she can do is make a few sparks. Such slow progress is utterly ridiculous, not to mention embarrassing. But such failure is no fault of her teachers--it’s all her blame to take. It’s partially due to her unreasonable desire to be a witch of the flame, even though her body was specialized in another area of magic from the start. All things considered, Jordan would be a better role model for her, but he has no desire to instruct her. Actually, it’s the opposite. Jordan opposes the whole idea of her getting involved with magic at all.
Elise is far from the scene of inner city havoc by now, and her hurried steps slow as she considers a particularly hurtful thought.
“He doesn’t think I have any talent.”
It’s no surprise, after all. Even back then, when that tree appeared, she couldn’t do anything. She’s never been able to do anything. For the sake of her feelings, Jordan rejects her. It’s all an effort to keep her from realizing the truth isn’t it? It’s much less hurtful to be denied a chance, than it is to face your own inadequacy and realize just how pathetic you are.
“In that case, I’ll do what I can. Even the most worthless can succeed with enough sacrifice.”
Her will steeled, her resolve hardened, and her mind prepared, Elise takes a new path. She won’t be in school today.
******************************************************************************************
The window is grey, fogged and frosted by the flurries of snow that spiral down from steel grey clouds. The curtains are only half drawn, and the sun, blocked as completely as if an iron sheet were draped over the sky, casts a single dim square that falls just short of his bed on the soft carpet.
As he comes back into this world, his first observation is that it’s nearly as cold in here as the air outside. Jordan doesn’t move yet. He doesn’t want to wake the sleeping girl draped over him. While her heart is in the right place, Vio isn’t exactly the warmest companion in this frigid room. She’s a bit heavy too. Yet, it warms his heart, if nothing else, that she’s here for him.
His shoulder aches, not because of her weight, but most likely an internal injury. He shifts a little, then immediately regrets it. Her skin is a perfect imitation of a human’s, just a bit colder. And those small breasts pressed against his side are just as stimulating as a real woman would be in this situation. That’s to be expected; many androids are nothing more than glorified sex toys.
That’s Vio’s original purpose, to begin with.
In hindsight, it seems sick; as uncivilized as slavery. But, the world just wasn’t ready for the change when the first signs of sentience began to manifest in their housekeeping robots. Of course, objects created by man are man’s tools to use as they please, right? A toaster can’t protest, a car can’t take a day off; to give rights to an object is a ridiculous concept.
That was until an android killed a human. It was a novelty story at the time: one of those newer models went berserk and crushed it’s master’s skull. There wasn’t much public alarm. The company did a recall on that model, and that was the end of it. Or so the world thought. Among the recalled robots, 0.7% of them had a bit of a glitch; one that could not be written over.
Towards the end of the 21st century, the scientific community began to take notice. As those who used robots for manual labor, and other difficult jobs noted the same problems which grew to an annoying frequency as they aged. The problem was that none of the software upgrades were compatible with older models, when they should have been. In fact, any attempt to troubleshoot led to the discovery of Terabytes of gibberish data.
Once the first quantum models hit the market, armed with enormous computing capacity that greatly out performed all older models, these problems began to manifest almost instantly in units that interacted with humans. The world took note then, and was forced accept this ridiculous concept when a brilliant scientist, Professor Fujiniko, managed to prove that those glitches were, in fact, logic gates on par with humans.
These days, all androids are programmed with growth killers. They keep malformed data, or the first leaning connections from forming, and any robot without these programs installed are considered people. Of course, this is impossible to enforce. And to make matters even more complicated, some manage to overcome those preprogrammed barriers.
Quite honestly, it’s a social disaster. The logical action would be to stop making such highly intelligent androids in the first place--which will result in the collapse of industries dependent on their slaves. Or human rights can be given to all androids--which defeats the purpose of having them made in the first place, and not all androids are sentient to begin with. So the world has settled on this half-assed solution of barrier programs. But isn’t that even more unethical than the other two options?
In Jordan’s mind, it is. Vio has always refused to talk about her circumstances, which leads him to imagine the worst. He’s probably not that far off, either. If one imagines a world where slavery never ended, the civil rights movement failed, and people are still considered subhuman because of some arbitrary factor, then one has begun to scratch the surface of the world that Vio comes from.
He sighs.
Jordan can’t help but feel a little guilty. Not about her past, but, instead, a much more relevant concern at the moment. No matter how much he focuses on math problems, old men, or the ceiling fan, he’s still acutely aware of that small bust pressed against his arm, with only a few millimeters of fabric between him and them.
…She is a sexbot, after all.
His thoughts are swirling in the gutter at this point.
She‘s probably doing it on purpose!
The delusion begins. It’s a quality that causes the most misunderstanding between men and women. A male is designed as to never miss a single opportunity to mate. Because of this, every possible thing that can be taken in a sexual way is interpreted as such. Tank top? She wants me to see her cleavage. Jeans? She wants me to look at her ass. A text message? She wants to have sex with me. A phone call? She wants to have sex with me. She has a boyfriend? She wants to cheat on him and have sex with me.
Apparently, somewhere along the line, evolution had a logic breakdown. Likewise, Jordan’s mind is running fast along this single, dirty track. He begins to turn, slowly enough to not disturb her.
This is an opportunity. If I don’t get a handful now, I’ll regret it later. She’s sleeping anyways so it’s okay. Yeah, this is the best plan ever!
And for about ten seconds, this really is the best plan ever.
“Hm?”
Two brown eyes meet his. He’s caught. Caught red handed. But, instead of the expected scowl, she grins, which really throws him for a loop.
“If you’re that energetic, then I guess I shouldn’t have worried.” With a heavy fluttering, she flings the covers off and sits up, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them.
He's not that lucky, and he knows it. Jordan watches her face and expression for any sign of danger, but that vigilance is a wasted effort; she doesn't move, speak, show any form of emotion for an abnormally long time. She must be thinking hard. And Jordan, lured in by the novelty of an introspective Vio, shatters the tight silence that had engulfed them.
"Something wrong?"
It takes a moment. He nearly repeats his question.
“...Jordan," Uncharacteristically, Vio’s question is timid and cautious. "...she still has such a tight grip on you, even after all these years?”
She’s talking about Wendy.
“It has nothing to do with her.” He pulls the cover over his head and turns away from Vio.
“Don’t lie. Jordan, it’s been a long time, right?”
“Who cares how long it’s been?”
On hearing that, Vio clenches her jaw, and grips her knees a bit too tightly. “Haven’t you learned your lesson?”
The man under the sheets doesn’t reply. His stone-like silence is enough of an answer.
“You got all torn up.” Her voice has a slight edge to it, a hint of warning. “Even when you tried your best, that sentinel still got away, you know. For your own good, throw away any notions of revenge. You’re too weak to carry out that dream.”
The stone wall breaks, and Jordan retorts with sharp irritation. “Who cares? As long as I can get that guy, nothing else matters.”
In reply, the covers are flung from the bed. And, with a thundering crack, Vio slaps his face hard enough to leave a mark. Just as his own rage boils over, hers reaches it’s peak. She preempts any retaliation by gripping his shoulders and banging his head against the headboard, very nearly giving him a concussion.
“Do you really mean that?!”
Jordan can’t respond, his head is swimming on the edge of consciousness. But the lack of reply does nothing to cap the volcano of her wrath.
“I can’t stand suicidal idiots like you. Yeah, go off and die on your own! It’s not like me and Elise will be hurt or sad, right!? I could forgive you if this is just attention whoring, but if it’s not, if you’re really going to throw away our relationship like trash, and just abandon us in your rush to join that bitch in the afterlife, I’ll kill you right this instant!”
This is unforgivable. His words, ‘nothing else matters’, are an insult that she cannot let pass. She can see it. She can discern the true meaning, the underlying concept behind his behavior: deluding himself and easing his own pain is worth throwing away their relationship.
Perhaps she’s alone in her opinion, or maybe it’s a common view that simply remains withheld, but Vio can’t see suicide as anything but the greatest insult to those who are left behind. It’s the ultimate selfishness. The ultimate cowardice. Everyone has someone who ties them to this world, and to throw away that bond like garbage, simply because one is too lazy or too afraid to continue to live, to continue to fight…that is unforgivable. Perhaps it’s because androids don’t have cling to the promise an afterlife, that they see the loss of what exists now, the loss of the person who lives now as the greatest waste.
“You and Elise…I love you both more than anything. That’s why you’re not allowed to just go die like that, you’re not the only one with emotional investment in your life!”
It's not just this, but Jordan's behavior as well. There's always been an undercurrent of risk taking in all of his actions. Even now, after thirteen years, this guy can't move on. She doesn't know, she never met her, but Vio can tell, in the few firey moments that her eyes lock with Jordan's, that Wendy was the worst possible woman. What exactly happened back then? How is he is so severely emotionally stunted by losing her that he risked death for nothing?
Aren't we good enough? Are we worth less than dead memories to you?
****************************************************************************************
In a nearly abandoned area of town, amidst the rising, vacant buildings of the old economic era, among the falling flurries of powdery snow, Elise gasps. It’s a reflexive intake of breath intensifies the sickening melting sensation that seems to throb with every breath. Her body feels singed, like the head of a cigarette, every pained moan lights the embers like a breeze on hot coals. The scorched palm seems to flare up with each heart beat.
This is the result of amateur foolishness. But the raw fingers are a small consequence in light of what could have happened. They are a potentially life saving message for someone attempting to self teach such dangerous magic, and as she twitches and thrashes on the damp, freezing ground of an old, run-down inner city park, the lesson is painfully obvious.
Vio’s power isn’t a flamethrower, something that burns all the way along it’s path to the target is extremely wasteful. Not only that, it’s foolish to assume that a mage can’t be burned by their own fire. For the highest efficiency, Vio simply ignites the target with no waste along the delivery. Numerous power lines, intangible and invisible under most circumstances, attach to her target like the prongs of ranged tasers and engulf them. Elise knew this, but never considered the quality of those power conduits.
Under most circumstances, those lines connect to the target, and direct the current to the point of ignition. At that moment, the current imposes a reality of fire on top of the reality of the target. That reality will be created wherever the current stops, meaning wherever the conduits end. For Vio, her conduits are extremely high quality, like a coaxial cable capable of carrying high loads of information, and merely a few are needed to carry the voltage load of her magic without fail. But, Elise’s lines are, quite simply, absolute trash when it comes to directed flame. It’s understandable; she’s not designed for it.
Just now, a low powered spell blew up in her face. Those shoddy conduits shattered under the magic load, and broke mere inches from the palm of her hand. As a result, all of that fire energy was dumped into the air just a few inches in front of her.
“Ugh…ugrrrrgh!”
Those who cannot do, will not. No matter how much the average person practices, they can never overcome the inherent advantage that a 100m sprinter has over them in speed. All men may be created equal, yet all are different. Such a thing is completely impossible, and that statement is a blatant contradiction. There are those who are born just to die in anguish in a poor country. There are those with inherited genetic disorders. There are those born into horrifically broken families.
All people were not given the same chance, all people do not have the same opportunity. Yes, those optimistic pollyannas who believe in ideals over reality will say that every person has a choice to better themselves, to reach their dreams. But, can a severely crippled person become a professional athlete? Can one born in severe poverty escape with their own power?
For Elise, it’s no different. She has no talent. She barely has the capacity to be a mage at all. When shafted so badly on the genetic side of things, how could she possibly overcome that disadvantage? Yes, all things can be compensated for with much practice, but what if the amount of effort exceeds the life span of that person? In that case, the goal is impossible. If it can’t be overcome with effort over the course of a human life, then it can be considered insurmountable.
It’s a ridiculous scene. Anyone watching her would laugh at how stupid she looked, thrashing around like that due to her own idiocy. Her resolve from this morning has already faded. Motivational words aren’t enough to change reality, yet she consumed herself with such foolishness simply to grab hold of a distant hope. Now she can only laugh self-derisively at the realization that the hope is not distant, it’s unreachable.
In fact, there is an observer. There is someone watching. There is someone laughing at her. The velvet voice reverberates through the yard, reflecting off of the surrounding fortress of rotting buildings. The voice is that of a woman, a smooth and melodious sound with a variety of tones.
But something is not right. In this place, she should be alone; not even the homeless nest here. But beyond that, that voice, specifically, should not exist here. And as Elise lifts her eyes up to the source of the insulting giggle, high above, on one of the adjacent, ancient terraces of the surrounding stone buildings, she sees that person who should not exist anywhere in this world.
A name that Elise has found too painful to mutter escapes her lips for the first time in years.
“…Cecile?”
Standing up there, her elegant figure is just as she would look if she’d never died; more beautiful than Elise could ever be. Not just in looks alone, but her aura of purpose and confidence is nearly tangible in its strength. Dead people cannot come back to life, not under normal circumstances. The body can be raised, the personality can be channeled, but the soul cannot be grasped by the hands of magic. Yet, she’s no mere ghost, nothing so simple as a familiar, the Cecile standing amongst the swirling swells of snow is no empty container. That girl up there is alive, living flesh and blood.
She definitely died. Cecile was certainly dead. Not merely killed, but her very concept was erased from this universe.
So then, how? What is this gross violation in the laws of the world?
All thoughts are pushed from Elise’s mind as her burn throbs. It’s pain that makes one forget everything else, pain that makes one thrash and whine unashamedly, pain that does not consider appearance to others. The resulting spasm of agony causes her to curl up into nearly a fetal position, her face in the snow, her teeth grit, and a low whimper escaping her throat. After seconds that pass like minutes in her own mind, the throbbing pressure finally subsides. The panting, gasping girl remembers herself and quickly glances up at the terrace.
Cecile isn’t there.
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Right away i can tell you that you are for some difficulties. What you are trying to do is mix the scientific with philosophy and it won’t work.
The earth has ambient energy, a flow of power, a stream of spirituality….
Example: Here the earth is a real object but spirituality is subjective. What is spirituality? There are thousands of definitions for it. Science is logic and there is no guesswork in logic—it is no pun intended an exact science. In order to write a novel like this you would have to define spiruality, the soul. Even in science fiction things have to fit. For instance, in Star Trek, we know Dr. Spock had no human feelings. This was pretty ambiguous but he never smiled an made an effort to question the spiritual philosophical side of things. Spock was an the symobol of exact science. What do you mean by lucky? I might feel lucky if i found a fifty-cent piece. Joe schmo might feel unlucky because it wasn’t a 1000.00.
Look at this: “The path to happiness is ultimately beyond human understanding. And a mage, who can only affect what is understood, can never reach that goal within…...
If man cannot be happy and a mage cannot be happy then what is the differennce between them? Why would a human care if he was a mage? What you are saying is that a mage and a human share a common bond, neither can be happy? What do you mean by happy?
Because no human has a soul that matches the earth perfectly. This is vague. You are talking of the earth as a whole—a real place…...the soul is subjective..and unseen thing. What elements of the earth is it that the subjective soul does not match? Can you make a comparison? I know what you are going to say, this is science fiction and there is room for play. Yes, there is but you must be more abstract in description. For instance, the reader is flooded with the image of the android, the mage, robots, etc. We need to know where they differ and immediately. What would the mage consider as a soul. Would this be the heart of human feeling and action? Simply define this right away.
Most humans wish for love, safety, and happiness. The path to these goals is so complex, complicated and narrow that it’s impossible to follow within human perception…..
Here you have defined what humans wish for but then you make a fallacious claim. Happiness to me is eating a meal with my grandaughter and then watching her play on the swing-set. I can precieve these happy feelings so it is within my perception to ascribe to happy feelings. One word could change the meaning of this whole paragraph. “Often” The path to hapiness is often narrow…. Do you see what i mean? The reason i am taking the time here is because i think you are super intelligent and have something here but you have got to narrow your meanings of soul, happiness, and what it means to be a human and a robot. I don’t care if a robot can spout the theory of relativity it is a robot and it differes from humans because it does not, religiously speaking have a soul…
a goal that’s worth the sacrifice of natural human ignorance.” What does this mean? What is meant by ignorance?
never seen that magnificent scene…seen and scene are too closely related. Perhaps you could write, She Could never have been privy to that magnificant scene.
Their reasons for casting away reason …... Their purpose for casting away reason. This way, you can only have one reason.
Jordan [doesn’t] move yet. He [doesn’t] want to move….Wordplay too closely related. Jordan lies motionless, trying not wake the sleeping girl….
.
Vio had carried him home in such a state….Wouldn’t it be more simple to just say Vio had carried Jorden home in such a state? Name HIM
Even back then, when that tree appeared, she couldn’t do anything…this begs for an explanation. You need to expound on the importance of the tree and not leave it hanging.
As he comes back into this world, his first observation is that it’s nearly as cold in here as the air outside…I don’t understand. Explain the two seperate worlds. Where is he? Do you mean the world of his room? Make plainer.
What do you mean the older model of robots were like humans when they weren’t updated. I don’t get it. Humans, like robots, absorb tons of data everyday. To say that an older model robot who couldn’t absord more fancy data is like a human is a fallacy. I need an explanation here. Do you mean the androids are more intelligent than human? Who made the androids? When you use the term unethical do you mean that the andriods have human feelings. One uses ethics when talking about humans. What are you comparing the andriods too? small bust pressed…small breasts.
Vio is a robot but yet she thinks like a human. You need to explain how this happened a little better.
overcome the inherent advantage that a 100m sprinter has over them in speed. All men may be created equal, yet all are different. Such a thing is completely impossible, and that statement is a blatant contradiction.
Perhaps in a philosophical sense all men are not created equal but what this means in more abstract terms is that men are all given the equal chance to simply exist to be here. When we are born we are all given a stab at life and all are human beings. The key is the genotype “human beings” this is the equality or commonality we all share.
What might help this story is if you stay with science. When you get into philosophy you are opening a can of worms and your readers can challenge you like i have. I am telling you that the two will not under any circumstance mix. People have tried to connect them for years and failed. They are two very different disciplines. You can stick with sicence fiction and leave out the soul and happiness unless of course you want to tell the reader what each of them consists of to the andriod or the mage. i think you are a good imaginative writer who knows alot about philosophy and science. If you want ot mix them it will take some defining. Good luck, Sandi. I put it in my favorites because you show great promise.
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There is some good imagination here with the sci-fi element. I’m wanting even more of the eccentricities of the situation to be revealed so that this story immediately has a separate identity from other robot/android i-robot, Bladerunner stories.
I do like your story, but with the tense problem it feels like you’re hearing a radio broadcast of a baseball game. Even though what’s going on is interesting, exciting and can definitely work, the way in which it is conveyed could use some tweaking.
(There is no excess of time this morning.)
This is a nebulous statement for an omniscient to open with. There are too many interpretations and it’s too passive. Start out with your plot.
(she’s taken)
has taken = took
(If one wanted …of military ordinance.)
This isn’t relevant. Pack the description into the sentences where the plot is happening. This extraneous movement can deter readers.
(Anyone who … who’s responsible.)
Check these sentences where the omniscient is rambling or offering needless perspective.
Looking forward the omniscient has a tendency to insert generalized statements that aren’t so much telling a story but giving an opinion. If there is an opinion to voice, a character should do it.
The narrator won’t stop talking. The story needs to happen without any interjection from anyone. All of the ideas, even when they are good ones are wasted when they are outside of the story’s context.
There is a strange thing happening with tense here. The omniscient wants to interject with possibilities which overrides the present tense. This story should be past perfect. In stories that have a lot of description, and this has some good description, it can make it feel like everything is happening at once. I’d like to see an altered version of this.
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