pedroj012
10-19-2010, 10:37 PM
No title yet. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly to do with the characters/plot- so far i just have a few scenes, but I'd like to get some feedback if I could. The gist of the story is that a war between humans and robots is breaking out just as a human and robot are falling in love -- yea yea romeo and juliet with robots...sue me.
First snippet:
Protests outside a factory in New Devonshire. Massive layoffs from techs. They're cheaper. End of story, right? Signs like "I liked you better as a can opener" and "MAN > machine" in the crowd. Chants of "Fry the iron! FRY! THE! IRON!". And all of a sudden, despite the police presence, someone's launched a cocktail at the factory and it's burning. Chaos and then everyone fleeing. Everything burning. Now the jobs are gone.
A bank in Petook with a long line. Pretty tellers welcoming patrons like they're their first.
"And how may I help you today?"
The man in the bowl hat slides a paper towards her with a smile. A quick "huh!" from the teller. You only read about these things.
"I am a bomb. Bring me the contents of the safe. If I am impeded in any way I will detonate. Thank you." The silent alarm tripped – police vehicles building up outside. The explosion blows out all the windows – knocks the "Petook Savings" sign across the lot – destroys most of the patrol cars.
Things are simmering.
second snippet....
"Darling. The curfew is 9 pm. You are currently violating said curfew. You are also evading arrest. I'm willing to give you that one if you'd kindly step into the van."
She knows what happens to techs caught out after curfew.
"Ma'am. Please cooperate or I will be forced to use force on your person."
Her person. Tujiel must run. She does.
"Goddamnit! Come back he-"
She knows these places. They gave her the maps so she could go door to door. Even the information on the inhabitants – strictly prohibited, so she could better go about her business. She knows where her person is.
Out of breath now, "You...I'm coming for you! Better know I got a good look at you! Metal boobed *****!"
She does get tired. There are worse fates than the police. Mind benders, parts collectors, sadistics with stolen torture devices. Improbable. Four more blocks seems unlikely running.
The drawn out doorbell. She collapses in Eno's arms.
last snippet...
He has a jumbo cigar in his mouth. Big rotting yellow brown teeth. Grunts and whistles like an ancient steam train.
In between rounds men go down and clear out the scrap. Terrible humming from the fluoro lights. The challengers enter the ring below – talked up – how many victories, size, weight, odds – and the betting begins. And the fighting begins.
A grunt. A hiss. It's disgusting.
"Excuse me, sir." Nothing. "Sir!"
"Goddamnit. Who are you?"
"I have..things you want."
The smaller tech saws off the larger's main appendage, to shouts from the packed cellar.
"I can't imagine what you have that I'd want."
"Five G90's – 2 adult, three children."
"Scrap, probably, now **** off before-"
"Alive."
"Proof? Here?"
"Ashton."
A whistle. A snort. A flash of brown amber.
The big falls over backwards, managing to crush the other in its weight.
"And I assume I will need to transport them?"
A nod.
"And you? Money? Drugs?"
"Weapons."
"Mmmm"
The big rolls over, rights itself. Peers over the small. People were already moving to cash their cards in – when the mini-charge detonates in the big's back – showering the crowd with circuitry.
A chuckle.
"Maybe you should just join the Regi if you hate tech so much. Weapons are hard to find."
"So are G90's."
A quick look over. Long practiced search for a scoundrel.
"So we are clear. I can get you weapons, but. If these G90's are not there – or – in inferior condition – I will reclaim these weapons and have you killed with these weapons. Now do you still want these weapons?"
No pause "Yes".
A rotting rainbow smile.
First snippet:
Protests outside a factory in New Devonshire. Massive layoffs from techs. They're cheaper. End of story, right? Signs like "I liked you better as a can opener" and "MAN > machine" in the crowd. Chants of "Fry the iron! FRY! THE! IRON!". And all of a sudden, despite the police presence, someone's launched a cocktail at the factory and it's burning. Chaos and then everyone fleeing. Everything burning. Now the jobs are gone.
A bank in Petook with a long line. Pretty tellers welcoming patrons like they're their first.
"And how may I help you today?"
The man in the bowl hat slides a paper towards her with a smile. A quick "huh!" from the teller. You only read about these things.
"I am a bomb. Bring me the contents of the safe. If I am impeded in any way I will detonate. Thank you." The silent alarm tripped – police vehicles building up outside. The explosion blows out all the windows – knocks the "Petook Savings" sign across the lot – destroys most of the patrol cars.
Things are simmering.
second snippet....
"Darling. The curfew is 9 pm. You are currently violating said curfew. You are also evading arrest. I'm willing to give you that one if you'd kindly step into the van."
She knows what happens to techs caught out after curfew.
"Ma'am. Please cooperate or I will be forced to use force on your person."
Her person. Tujiel must run. She does.
"Goddamnit! Come back he-"
She knows these places. They gave her the maps so she could go door to door. Even the information on the inhabitants – strictly prohibited, so she could better go about her business. She knows where her person is.
Out of breath now, "You...I'm coming for you! Better know I got a good look at you! Metal boobed *****!"
She does get tired. There are worse fates than the police. Mind benders, parts collectors, sadistics with stolen torture devices. Improbable. Four more blocks seems unlikely running.
The drawn out doorbell. She collapses in Eno's arms.
last snippet...
He has a jumbo cigar in his mouth. Big rotting yellow brown teeth. Grunts and whistles like an ancient steam train.
In between rounds men go down and clear out the scrap. Terrible humming from the fluoro lights. The challengers enter the ring below – talked up – how many victories, size, weight, odds – and the betting begins. And the fighting begins.
A grunt. A hiss. It's disgusting.
"Excuse me, sir." Nothing. "Sir!"
"Goddamnit. Who are you?"
"I have..things you want."
The smaller tech saws off the larger's main appendage, to shouts from the packed cellar.
"I can't imagine what you have that I'd want."
"Five G90's – 2 adult, three children."
"Scrap, probably, now **** off before-"
"Alive."
"Proof? Here?"
"Ashton."
A whistle. A snort. A flash of brown amber.
The big falls over backwards, managing to crush the other in its weight.
"And I assume I will need to transport them?"
A nod.
"And you? Money? Drugs?"
"Weapons."
"Mmmm"
The big rolls over, rights itself. Peers over the small. People were already moving to cash their cards in – when the mini-charge detonates in the big's back – showering the crowd with circuitry.
A chuckle.
"Maybe you should just join the Regi if you hate tech so much. Weapons are hard to find."
"So are G90's."
A quick look over. Long practiced search for a scoundrel.
"So we are clear. I can get you weapons, but. If these G90's are not there – or – in inferior condition – I will reclaim these weapons and have you killed with these weapons. Now do you still want these weapons?"
No pause "Yes".
A rotting rainbow smile.