Rocket_Science
11-05-2016, 02:04 PM
Since this is my first thread, I may be doing some things totally wrong. Please tell me if I'm making any big mistakes.
So anyway, this is something I wrote back in seventh grade for my ELA teacher on writing conversations. It's okay, I guess...
“I don’t know,” muttered the second silhouette. “What if they find out? The accident was three days ago— it’s a wonder they haven’t already.”
“We can cover it up. We usually can,” the first person countered.
“Yes, yes, but this one was the biggest one yet— six dead, Josef! Six! And many more wounded. They’ll start to wonder soon.”
The first shadow, Josef, shrugged his broad shoulders uncomfortably. “We have been fabricating the crawlers for two years, the walkers for four. They are almost complete. Before too long it will not matter if they wonder.”
He walked over to the door below me. There was a click and fluorescent lights stuttered into life down the length of the hangar, illuminating the giant 18 painted on the floor. I gasped quietly.
In front of the second silhouette was a massive, indistinct hunk of steel. Appendages that looked suspiciously like legs and pincers were thrown into dramatic relief by the bluish light. Charred and blackened plates of warped metal covered the cockpit like an abandoned shell.
“This is what happened to the last one that escaped. It took 2 hours to bring down. Updated models will be even more durable and able to stand up to hardier resistance,” Josef spread his arms theatrically. “Our recovery agents have confirmed that none who saw this are still alive.”
Behind the two men, a door opened with a whine and hiss of hydraulic hinges. A young Japanese woman in a suit emerged right below me.
“Sirs, if you’ll please come this way, Mr. Sokolov has called a meeting of all the major product designers, it’s rather urgent.”
“Yes, of course, Akina,” nodded Josef. “We’ll be right there.”
As both men turned to follow the messenger out the door she had entered from, I saw a ID card in the second man’s breast pocket. It read “Soren Moore— Product Design”. That would be useful to know later; everyone knew Josef Richter was the Product Design head of Nebula Industries, the largest computing hardware startup since the famous Apple, but this Soren Moore was not known among my circles. Perhaps he specialized in the monstrous mechanical creations Nebula spawned. And this Akina, whoever she was, appeared to be no more than a courier for the more powerful employees.
I could hear the three conversing as their voices faded down the hallway.
“Ms. Fujikawa, there is no more I can tell you. It is classified.” Richter’s voice. So Akina Fujikawa did not have permission to hear classified information, I was right about that.
“But you know I am Master Sokolov’s most devoted worker— surely I would not reveal the secrets you are concealing!” protested Fujikawa.
“It’s a risk he is not prepared to take. You are young and have worked for Mr. Sokolov for not 6 months. He does not trust you as much as he trusts me,” Moore interjected.
Fujikawa sounded hurt and disappointed. “Sir—”
“I will not discuss it further.”
“Yes, sir.”
After this I could hear no more of their conversation.
When I was absolutely sure that they were too far down the hall to hear me, I slipped down from the catwalk and climbed down the slick, slanted wall vents to the floor twenty-five feet below and strode as quietly as I could to the walker. As I approached, stained white letters printed below the cabin came into focus in the half—light. They read “WaV 03 BETA 2123 999”. The serial number, I guessed. Below them, larger letters stated “MSAV RAPTOR”. As I turned to slip back the way I and come, a searchlight flashed brilliant white right on top of me.
“Stop, intruder!” a disembodied voice called from the rafters. There was a whistle and something thudded into my back, embedding itself in my skin. Suddenly I was exhausted as the tranquilizer took effect. Collapsing in a pile, the last thing I remember was a security officer rushing towards me. Then everything went black.
I'm not really sure what's going on here. Needless to say, it doesn't really make any sense out of context with the rest of the story. I am sort of proud of the general premise, though.
- Ned
So anyway, this is something I wrote back in seventh grade for my ELA teacher on writing conversations. It's okay, I guess...
“I don’t know,” muttered the second silhouette. “What if they find out? The accident was three days ago— it’s a wonder they haven’t already.”
“We can cover it up. We usually can,” the first person countered.
“Yes, yes, but this one was the biggest one yet— six dead, Josef! Six! And many more wounded. They’ll start to wonder soon.”
The first shadow, Josef, shrugged his broad shoulders uncomfortably. “We have been fabricating the crawlers for two years, the walkers for four. They are almost complete. Before too long it will not matter if they wonder.”
He walked over to the door below me. There was a click and fluorescent lights stuttered into life down the length of the hangar, illuminating the giant 18 painted on the floor. I gasped quietly.
In front of the second silhouette was a massive, indistinct hunk of steel. Appendages that looked suspiciously like legs and pincers were thrown into dramatic relief by the bluish light. Charred and blackened plates of warped metal covered the cockpit like an abandoned shell.
“This is what happened to the last one that escaped. It took 2 hours to bring down. Updated models will be even more durable and able to stand up to hardier resistance,” Josef spread his arms theatrically. “Our recovery agents have confirmed that none who saw this are still alive.”
Behind the two men, a door opened with a whine and hiss of hydraulic hinges. A young Japanese woman in a suit emerged right below me.
“Sirs, if you’ll please come this way, Mr. Sokolov has called a meeting of all the major product designers, it’s rather urgent.”
“Yes, of course, Akina,” nodded Josef. “We’ll be right there.”
As both men turned to follow the messenger out the door she had entered from, I saw a ID card in the second man’s breast pocket. It read “Soren Moore— Product Design”. That would be useful to know later; everyone knew Josef Richter was the Product Design head of Nebula Industries, the largest computing hardware startup since the famous Apple, but this Soren Moore was not known among my circles. Perhaps he specialized in the monstrous mechanical creations Nebula spawned. And this Akina, whoever she was, appeared to be no more than a courier for the more powerful employees.
I could hear the three conversing as their voices faded down the hallway.
“Ms. Fujikawa, there is no more I can tell you. It is classified.” Richter’s voice. So Akina Fujikawa did not have permission to hear classified information, I was right about that.
“But you know I am Master Sokolov’s most devoted worker— surely I would not reveal the secrets you are concealing!” protested Fujikawa.
“It’s a risk he is not prepared to take. You are young and have worked for Mr. Sokolov for not 6 months. He does not trust you as much as he trusts me,” Moore interjected.
Fujikawa sounded hurt and disappointed. “Sir—”
“I will not discuss it further.”
“Yes, sir.”
After this I could hear no more of their conversation.
When I was absolutely sure that they were too far down the hall to hear me, I slipped down from the catwalk and climbed down the slick, slanted wall vents to the floor twenty-five feet below and strode as quietly as I could to the walker. As I approached, stained white letters printed below the cabin came into focus in the half—light. They read “WaV 03 BETA 2123 999”. The serial number, I guessed. Below them, larger letters stated “MSAV RAPTOR”. As I turned to slip back the way I and come, a searchlight flashed brilliant white right on top of me.
“Stop, intruder!” a disembodied voice called from the rafters. There was a whistle and something thudded into my back, embedding itself in my skin. Suddenly I was exhausted as the tranquilizer took effect. Collapsing in a pile, the last thing I remember was a security officer rushing towards me. Then everything went black.
I'm not really sure what's going on here. Needless to say, it doesn't really make any sense out of context with the rest of the story. I am sort of proud of the general premise, though.
- Ned