《Life is Wilde》
Prologue: File: A.1
December 28, 201X
Within a satellite station in the Thermosphere
A suited astronaut stood on the wing of a orbiting satellite. There visor was facing towards the endless expanse of space. It appeared at though the person was expecting a good neighbor to quickly enter his or her abode. Though, from the slight crook in the usually experienced officer''s back, learned experts in body-language would tell you whom-ever this was- was nervous.
Across the communications link established from the suit the astronaut was wearing was nothing but static. That lasted until the characteristic hissing sound was interrupted with akkrch. Melodiusly stretching across radiowaves, through the ionosphere, was the distorted remnants of a womans voice. The distortion continued, like the hum of a monk, until connection was re-established.
"Attention? At-Attention, Sgt. Major Alexandria Bluewinsky, what you''re doing is a great service to man-kind! I, as the Vice President of the United Nations, congratulate you for your bravery in the face of potential sacrifice. As you know and as we''ve recieved intel on, a Danger Class 3 large scale satellite is set course from deep space to intercept the Earths rotation. Our first preventative measures have reduced the size of this satellite to roughly half of its original size. We have also altered the main satellites trajectory by several degree which disalligns the earth from any major danger. In the pursuit of science, though, we the people of the World require data from such a large structure. Tertiary reasons as to why this excercise is needed is classified. Do you understand the danger?"
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The woman, the astronaut, Alexandria shivered intensely for a moment as he breifly considered her life. She then bit her lips, replying in a bitter and desolate voice, "Yes, Madame Vice President"
Continuing the conversation through the com-link, the Vice President ignored the aparent chilliness within the womans voice. If Alexandria could see the look on the Vice President''s face, there would only be disappointment.
"Yes, I know you know all too well the implications of your actions in ''volunteering'' for this endeavor. Remember, if you suceed, your family will get all the benefits we''ve described."
Alexandria didn''t respond to the remarks in the communications. Most of the talk was simply information on how to utilize her satellite-ship to create an atmospheric vacuum in the area where the debris would fall. Her mind couldn''t help subconciously wonder, ''What is so important about space debris that''s going to burn up in the atmosphere anyway''.
As she looked further into the distance, a milky and soft white glow appeared in front of her visor. Though the distance was far, Alexandria finally knew what she was attempting to collect. Looking at the oncoming mass, she knew that all of humanity would change when they found out aboutwhat she had seen. She then realized that she would never make it back to explain what she had seen. Resigned to her fate, Alexandria allowed herself to make history. At the same time, she bid her family fairwell.
Oscar B. Wilden: Page 1
Snow fell like any other day in the Cold Times1. Well, not that you might know. For all we know, the world may have defeated the last of us. You see, the world as we know it came to an end. IT was reborn like a phoenix rising from the ashes of yester-years. Yes, the world was alight was jubilation. And when it happened, no one was ready. Well, except for those who knew.
January 1st, 20XX
Within a small spring home nested in the middle of suburban Roswell, Georgia, a youth slept. His hair a mess, posture poor, yet he had the most serene countenance. He was gently inhaling air through his nostrils, that some at his school called too large, while mumbling something in his sleep. His hair, the mess that it was, was locked in deep curls. His mother told him that was a characteristic he had acquired from his mixed heritage. She told him his father was a strong man, with olive skin, who didn''t know what he was. She told him of how he had gone to war, but never came back. She also told him, due to his lighter complexion, to be wary of those who had an anti hispanic view as that was the rising sentiment with the times.
This boy, Oscar, was raised solely by his mother. The words he hummed in his subconscious, solemnly engraved within his mind, was that one day he''d protect his mother. He vowed in his sleep repeatedly, to never let his mother hurt. Little did that help his typical bratty, lazy, personality from triggering his mother''s ire.
"Oscar," a shrill screech resounded to his left. "Get yo, high-yellow, black ass up!"
That shrill screech came from Oscar''s mother. Ariel. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Ariel had Oscar when she was just shy of her final year in graduate school. She took it upon herself to finish her last finals before rushing to the labor and delivery. Her water had broken on her way to classes. Oscar''s father was already over-seas at that time in an active war-zone. Ariel, devoted to the memory that he had given her, vowed to be a great mother. And, she -was- a great mother. While in labor, not only did Ariel complete her finals with excellent grades, she was the salutatorian of her class.
"Oscar," she yelled shrilly from her small waist yet big boned frame, "if you ever get up, I''ll lose those fifteen pounds I been wanted to lose for years. Get''cho ass up, boy!"
Her voice was growing nearer. The young boy, with tanned skin, finally seemed to be roused from his slumber. His drawn out breaths came back quickly. His attention, like his dreary eyes, remained out of focus. That was until he realized what time it was.
"7:45 a.m." he mumbled to himself incoherently. "It''s almost 8!"
His yell caught more than his attention. His mother, on the way through the hall connecting their rooms and the living room, stared looking at his door. She fumed for a moment, thinking things over, and decided to urge her son some more.
"What is today, Oscar," she asked sarcastically.
Oscars face looked glum. His hazel-blue eyes revolved in his head before widening with clarity.
"T-today," he stammered, "today is the annual test! The test to see if my genes are active!"
Yes, today was the day of the year that childrens gene compatibility was tested to see if there was activity with the known therapeutic reagents. These test would determine if a child would be able to fight back the monstrosities that plagued the land after The Occurrence happened.
1. Cold Times will be abbreviated to CT in the following chapters unless spoken of directly by characters. It will be subject to other interpretations by the characters as well. In example, a future character may say, "Be careful of The Colds. It''s always dangerous during that time."
Prologue: File: A.2
A group of people covered in black, tight fitting, clothes started at an archaic terminal. It was weathered with time, covered in dust, and nearly rotten. One member of the party was rustling around in the back. The person had pulled wires out of a floor console and began to fiddle around with it. Shortly, the soft hum of a generator came to life. With the activation of a power source, it seemed like the entire building took a deep breath. Dust scattered from the ceiling, falling down like snow, blanketing the group of people below. Their once pristine black clothes now mottled with the remnants of ages old.
Then, suddenly, a sharp light pierced the viel of growth on the peoples right. They all turned immediately to look. A screen, large and sturdy, was hidden through a canopy of leaves. A cacophony of noises could be heard as a video played. A woman was on the display. Her features incoherent. Her speach largely in tact.
Speaking in a commanding tone, the woman stated:
The mission was partially successful. In lieu of Agent A''s performance, her family shall be under "protected" status. All operatives are to remain incognito. Infiltration to family permitted with good reason. No inter-personal sexual relationships "a Go". After retrieval of packet, Agent A will be extremely ''radiated''. ''Decontamination'' is necessary. Remove all potential threat from Agent A.
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The screen blinked on and off on a video recording apparatus. The station which sheltered the device was covered in reeds and grasses. Vines crawled up walls almost like mother earth had sprung to fight against technology. It was a miracle that any logs could be accessed.
The unit watching seemed awed. They turned to the person who had accessed secondary power to the archaic device. He then looked back sullenly, nodded, and they began to plant devices around the perimeter.
Exitting a hill of vegetation, a team of ten experts could be seen. They wore black clothes, covered in white, and looked worse for wear. As they paced undauntedly in the distance, the hill behind them was set aflame. A deep white blaze stretched to the heavens. Presumably, there would be no hill to speak of by the dawn of a new day. The only remnants of the hill would be in ashes and a memory.
Oscar B. Wilden: Page 2
Oscar rushed to the sink with as much exuberance as he could muster. He performed his ablutions so quickly it was almost like he only brushed his teeth and put new deodorant on. Well, he did only brush his teeth that morning and put deodorant on. All in all, that took seven minutes as Oscar¡¯s mother drilled the importance of at least having a decent breath and muted body odor.
After, he careened out of the bathroom with a slide and rushed his way back into his bedroom. Buck-naked, bare and wild, he flailed about through each article of his clothes to find his favorite, lucky, underwear. He nearly demolished his entire room before finding them. They were purple. They were Briefs. They were Boxers. And they had one of his all time, favorite, old-school anime characters on them. After grasping his awesome, purple Trunks underwear, Oscar threw the rest of his pre-ordained outfit on. Lest he provoke his mother¡¯s ire.
Ariel, alight with irritation, stood outside the front door on the porch. She had already been dressed and ready, addled with time at hand, and started their hover car. After the occurrence, most electrical appliances ceased to work. It was a gradual process. Luckily, due to this, new more clean technology could be produce. The technology was called hydro-something-thermatological energy. Long story short it took supercooled water, an electric current, and some solar energy essence to power.
Peeved, Ariel began to call out for Oscar, but reined herself in when she heard the characteristic clamor of his running.
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¡®For a child that¡¯s so average, he does have his odd points,¡¯ she thought without vocalizing. Hmph¡¯ing, she took the lead to hop in the car.
Hover cars were the smoothest rides you could ever get. Amongst the protected citizens of the world, attaining a hover-car could put you on the upper middle end of the status. That is to say, Oscar¡¯s mom, Ariel, was important. The air of exacerbation she held around Oscar was the same air she had to place during her important work hours. Though a great mom, she had her faults. Like most other people with high stress jobs, the stress of her job leaked out at home.
Looking to the back seat of the hover-car, she saw Oscar going through his preparations. She knew these times were stressful for children. She still remembered her excitement and disappointment for her genetic rigidity.
¡°Oscar, sweety,¡± she doted, ¡°you look dashing in those clothes. You look better than your father when he was your age. I¡¯m so proud of you.¡±
Oscar, smiling, thought to himself, ¡®You mean, ¡°Oscar you look dapper in those clothes I picked out for you¡±, right?¡¯ But, he knew his mother didn¡¯t mean harm.
Oscar B. Wilden: Page 3
Driving through the roads of the Protected Area didn¡¯t seem like The Occurrence happened at all. Modeled after The Time Before, everything had an innate displaced feeling to it. The charm and nostalgia of the yesteryears was nestled in a bundle of chrome and vanta-colors. Literally, the dirt on the side of the road sparkled with bits of wonder- that is if wonder is pieces of formica.
Still, Oscar always enjoyed watching the view. He knew one day he¡¯d need to memorize these roads, memorize these sights, as after today he¡¯d be considered a ¡®man¡¯.
The largest change that occurred with The Occurrence, however redundant that may sound, was the human gene pool. Roughly sixty percent of population was geographically isolated. The remainder of people are called ¡°the lost¡±. Following the principles to atlantis, the world experienced tremendous upheavals. Continents seemed to have sunk and risen, like the world was breathing, in and out.
Pity traced the young face of Oscar. He gestured his right hand, his dominant hand, through his locks. The matted, twisted, curls caught his fingers each time he did this. He liked the pull, saying, ¡°the strain helps me think.¡±
Contrary to his normal, annoying, self-centered actions, Oscar was quite observant. When things suited him, he scored within the top percentiles of his class. When things didn¡¯t, he scored the lowest. As if the icing on the cake, students at his school caught wind of his full name during orientation. So, every time he had variable scores, they¡¯d call out to him. ¡°Oscar -B-. Wilding! How -do- you manage to be so random. You be Wil-den-.¡± He always wondered about his name, whether the pun was purposeful or not.
In his heart, he knew his middle name came from his father. Bada. It meant Battle.
The young boy, caught in his thoughts of his friends, could only smile. School, now it would become a fond memory to think on.
¡°It¡¯s time,¡± he rasped in his daze. ¡°I won¡¯t let you down pops. I¡¯m going to protect mom.¡±
Soon, however it came to be, the car came to a stop. Well, if you were riding in it, you''d know how important that was. Hover-cars never seemed like they stopped. They swayed gently, vibrating almost, as they resisted the wind- not unlike a boat. As a matter of fact, the matter of landing a hover-car was called Docking. If that didn''t ruffle some feathers, the cars operated on the new-universal standard. The Naught.
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One Naught is approximately the same as 1.2 Newtons of old. That is to say, the base forces involved with moving matter at the relative to olden times is twenty percent more difficult. Yes, resistance in the air, the existence of gravity, all of it was becoming more difficult. As a result, children with weak genetic pliability are lost at birth. Those whose genetic make up makes it to where they are not strong enough eventually will be unable to bear children due to the weight of the child within. Twenty percent... That''s not an additive increment to most. It''s multiplicative.
This major truth was first observed in accordance to the new United Nations laboratories. A scientist studying particle collisions from Great Britain, by the name of Alfred Amnaught noticed a gradual inconsistence with the movement of particles even within his control. He began a series of test which lead to him testing his total environment. Long story short, he was ''Naught'' crazy.
The car hovered a bit gracefully in the air before landing. A rolling plain existed to the left of it. That was the Protected Environmental area. To the right, there was a large facility. Directly infront of the car was the horizon line of The Dome. Looking back, one could see the residential area. The Protected Areas were always encapsulated. It helped keep out The Cold.
Getting out the car, Oscars mom looked around for a moment. It was like she was attempting to see through the veil of clouds that fogged the screenlike dome. Resigning herself, she looked to Oscar. He had gotten out of the car and immediately started gawking. Smiling at him, his mother grabbed his hand. She pulled him along whistfully leaving behind a reminder of their tardiness.
"Don''t you want to be tested," she asked. "You know, I pulled some strings to get us this early appointment. I know you don''t want to wait in line- by yourself next time."
Oscars thoughts disconnected for a moment, before looked at his mom beligerently. He snorted hot air.
"You don''t need to always coddle me mom! I''m going to be active. I''ll protect you!!"
Ariel was stunned for a moment and a faint weariness spread through her eyes. She looked at her only momento of her late lover. She looked at her greatest manifesto. She looked at her son. She prayed he wouldn''t be active for years on end. She didn''t want her son to face those thing. Yet, she knew he inherited the bada spirit from his father. He would go to war for his beliefs. She knew him all too well.
"Well," she crooned her neck, "bring your ass inside. We gots some tests t'' do."
The Test: Page 1
In the Protected area, the front of any large building was called its face. The face served the purpose of determining the ''class'' of the structure. The meaning of the face could be derived by the angles which it presented itself to the world. The architectural design for these more ''forceful faces'' determined the production costs of the building. Therefore, the face was generally the way of determining the status of those who entered said infrastructure and those who worked there.
A ''Mean'' face was angular, showing great power. Few could afford the massive collumns that held walksways against the sky. Even fewer could afford the reverse arch that created a ''V for Victory'' sign that was characteristic of the Mean faces. This reverse arch is called the Vrch1.
The vrch is the perch where the law finds balance from the top to the bottom to the top. Any and almost all buildings with this design were held by government institutions.
Gentle faced buildings held domes as the over-arching theme. The thematic played the role for the arts. Artisans, tradesmen, and skilled hands alike all worked from buildings like this. A nick-name for gentle faced buildings was Round, fat, rotund, because the most civilian money was made in these locations. Halls for science and the like were considered Angular faces. Typically the buildings with odd designs and features were the houses of the teachers. They held colleges, schools, and the like.
Finally, Square faces were where regular people lived. Each person would live, in the absence of money, a square faced home. These homes were, in reality, simple flats with minimalistic utilization of space. After all, in the dome, space is a commodity. Spring homes like Ariel and Oscar''s are modeled with an Angular face.
The building Oscar and his mother entered was a Mean building. The walkways had collumns that even three large men couldn''t wrap their arms around. From the parking area, the building looked small. When in the premesis, the only emotion one could feel would be awe. Reliefs adorned on the collumns detailed the amount of craft put into the building. Even the colloseums of the old would only be reflectant of the architectural prowess needed to invert the natural archs in the walk way to a vrch. Needless to say, the necessary skill of someone who wished to combine the arch of the walkway to a super imposed vrch. The combined effort looked to almost be an alien heart-shaped head. On the other hand, it also looked like an egg resting in equilibrium when balanced with the rest of the building.
"Wow," Oscar commented, releasing the breath he had been holding god knows how long. "What is this place mom?"
Ariel looked at her son replying as she walked, "This is where I work. It''s called the Implorium, and god knows what I''d give to beat the little schmuck who decided on that name. Complete and utter fantasy name type- ish.Yeesh!"
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"Seems like you hate it here," he replied in a disgruntled manner looking down at the black and white marble inlay.
''These floors are amazing,'' he thought, ''amazingly expensive too.''
Sensing the discomfort that her son held, Ariel quickly added, "No, I just don''t like what''s done here. But don''t mind that."
She paused for a moment and, having had a lead on Oscar, was subsequently bumped into.
Oscar scuttled back after stabilizing himself, flushed with embarassment while looking towards his mother.
She only chuckled and stated, "You''re fine. I just remembered to tell you... What ever you do, don''t get too high of a score. That road may look like gold, but it''ll be piss if you walk on it long enough."
Seemingly confused by his mothers statement, Oscar opened his mouth to ask how he could score higher. She interupted his thought by saying, "Those special shakes I made were a little more special than you would think."
Her voice was unbearably cold. He didn''t know why she talked about the smoothies she would make. He could still remember the taste of those, and five years had past since he''d taken them.
The shakes were called shakes because they were cold. Unbearably so. Nursing a shake would take the young Oscar a few days to finish. HIs mother didn''t seem to mind. She would only smile, laugh a bit, and take the rest he didn''t want to drink to store in a special refridgerator. The flavor wasn''t that poor either. The taste was almost like a rich chocolate covered orange. The drink was smooth with the slightest of grainy sensation to the tip of the tongue. Having always wondered where his mother got those protein smoothies, Oscar put two and two together for the first time today.
The first thing he could think of was his mother stole those shakes. The second thing was that what she gave him was more than a little help in gene activity. Inquistively gazing at his mother would never get anymore answers out of her, so he tucked his thoughts to the back of his mind. His vow in his heart was even more condensed.
Once again, in a seeming omniscient way, his mother smiled and cajoled him to not worry. He didn''t know why, but she always knew when he was worried for her. Still, she was all he had left. She was his only mom, so he trusted her dearly.
1. Vrch is pronouncedhttps://forvo.com/word/vrch/
The Test: Page 2
Within the building, Oscar faced a white-robed gentleman. Yes, the person was a doctor. He held in his hand a stethoscope and was attempting to listen to Oscars breathing.
"Yes," he stated, smilingly lightly, "You''re as fit as an ox. Now all we need to do is take a blood sample."
In the moments where Oscar parted from his mother, he was escorted by a group of men in military atire. They wore dark green slacks, blue t-shirts, and dark green jackets. In the protected areas, they were called Rangers. These men all had high gene activity. Oscar, looking at these men, felt they were the heroes of his generation. He didn''t hold back trying talking to him. Much to his dismay, they didn''t talk that often. Most of the things they told him were commands.
Oscar was led to a room with steel enforced locks. He was sealed within the room. The walls were all white with grey cabinets. There was a single cot on the dominant wall, the wall one would see when entering the room, and a chair in the middle of the room. The chair was on wheels, capable of rolling everywhere in the room. In all honesty, the room was very simple.
He had to wait.
Time feels like hours when you''re bored and alone. What was a few minutes seemed to stretch on infinitely for the young lad. He looked towards the door in expectation. His thoughts continuously paralleled with questions about the manner of tests he''d need to take.
In reality, the tests were nothing much. When the doctor entered the room he introduced himself. He called himself Doctor Ainar. He was simply a pediatrician. He helped children with their regular check ups. Disappointed with the bland occurence, Oscar went through the minutaea of the exam. He passed most forms of the physical with perfect attention.
Aside from a little dehydration, he was a perfectly healthy, robust, young man.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Easing a needle into someone''s arm that''s resisting isn''t easy. Doctor Ainar had originally thought the procedure was going well. Unfortunately for him, Oscar was as preturbed by sharp, thin, points as much as the next regular child. He bucked, bit, and kicked his way away. Screaming for his mother, the child wouldn''t calm down. Falling on his last resorts, Ainar called in the security personel to assist him with his actions.
"I require assistance in Room 33B."
To Oscar, the man looked strange. He was talking into his lapell like a madman. He had further resolved himself to not allow the man to prod his body with a needle as he witnessed the fact. After all, what type of crazy-man would talk to himself infront of a child with a weapon.
Shortly after the call was made, three of the men who brought Oscar to the doctor arrived. They approached the child with a swiftness that only trained personal could execute. One soldier took Oscars head within his hands, wrapping his arm across his chest, and subdued any potential threats of escaping by lifting him from the ground. Another soldier tied his legs to the supports which held the cot in the air.
Finally, after having Oscar strung up like a chicken waiting to be butchered, the two free-hand soldiers held down Oscar''s arms. Swiftly, with a practiced precision, Doctor Ainar inserted his needle into the visble, stressed, vein on Oscars arm. He was amazed by how much a boy could resist in the face of his fears.
"Strong as a bull," he muttered under his breath as the blood filled the tube. "Strong as a bull with well oxygenated blood."
Off put by the whole ordeal, Oscar slackened his offenses. He watched his blood drain from his arm with a pale face. Thinking back on his entire life, Oscar couldn''t remember a single time he''d bled before. He didn''t see the strange degree of protection it would require for someone to go their whole life unblemished.
The Test: Page 3
Doctor Ainar wiped the sweat from his brow. He exhaled deeply, half-sighing, eyeing the needle filled with a precious commodity.
"Untested blood," he murmured. "The hope of man-kinds fight against nature."
Oscar, witnessing the act, couldn''t be more depressed that such a crazy person could be a pediatrician. He also forgot his reverance to the soldiers who had held him. He felt like all the adults within this community were terrible. Except his mother, of course.
Giving the elder men the evil eye didn''t assuage the flames of indignation in the childs heart. His body began to visible stress. He was shaking, pale in the face, and his breathing was distressed. The doctor looked at the boy who seemed to have been going into shock, smurked, and gestured for the soldier to ''handle the situation before it became worse''.
A quick chop to the right side of the neck and it was lights out for Oscar. The man, who was behind Oscar and had rendered him unconscious, lifted the boy onto his shoulder and began to walk out.
Doctor Ainar, still looking at the blood, conspicuously laughed. He smiled faintly, as the light reflected through crystalline tube, and withdrew from Room 33B.
After awakening with a sharp pain from his right, Oscar was confused. He was in a room, similarly white, that had a television hanging infront of him. His bed wasn''t the cot he remembered seeing, it wasn''t mounted on a wall and was by far more comfortable, nor was the door steel. He knew something unusual was occuring. Uneasiness inked into his heart as he realized he was rendered unconscious.
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"They put me to sleep," he muttered horrifiedly, "the could''ve drained me dry with those needles!"
The boy lifted his head towards the light. Oscar never knew how much flourescent lights could burn. He''d never been knocked out. The dull ring in the back of his head told him something had happened. The excitement from the day had taken its toll on his feeble psyche. Feeling his eyes become dreary once more, he closed his eyes to sleep.
Ariel entered the room after witnessing Oscar wake up and fall asleep. She stared at a diagnosis that was left for her to interpret. As she read, her brow began to furrow. She knew that her son had performed the utmost of normal stress test. Well, the most normal stress tests for a twenty year old man.
Doctor Ainar, her direct superior, was a gentleman who had studied human physiology for a young age. He was a genius beyond his time with a mutation in his frontal-cortex and amygdala. His ability for deduction, observation, and study was inhuman. By the time he was twenty he had studied all facets of known medicine. Only he was suited to be the lead doctor at the Implorium.
Ariel, with a besmirched look on her face, lamented the fact she couldn''t hide her son away. Ainar had used hypnosis on the child from the moment they''d separated. He had even hypnotized her...
Authors Note.
Hey all,
So, as I''ve gotten a feel for how I want to write my story, I''d like to thank those who have read with me thusly. As I am going to be seriously focusing on creating a more streamlined storyline with longer chapters, less asides, and better environment-- well, let''s say there''ll be some delays. All things before this will be considered non cannon, aside from character names. The story will continue, will be better, and will be more cohesive. Until the next post, (probably until this up-coming friday at around 6 p.m. eastern time), I bid you adieu.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Sincerely,
AKindBoy
Chapter 1: Oscar B. Wilden
Chapter 1: Oscar B. Wilden
Morning dew hung limpidly in the air creating a fog outside of a small four bed room home. The home was tan, a neutral color as most would know, with black shingles on its angular roof. There was a single chimney stalk, suggesting a chimney place being in the home, and an air conditioning unit on the side. All in all, the home appeared to be liveable, sizeable enough for at least four people to live in. Yet, in this small, spring, home there existed only two.
The first of this homes inhabitants was a woman, aged around thirty, who still exhibited the springs of youth. She had dark brown hair where streaks of orange could be seen running through like fire in a forest. Here eyebrows were sharp, direct, with a collected presentation. There was an air of maturity that lingered on her lips, sultry, and seductive. Her waist was narrow, skin pristine and tanned, and her eyes mellow. Her eyes sparkled with a honeyed texture, thick with confidence, and an amber color. The second her child.
Yet in this moment, at the peak of dawn, she was working on the computer.
The blue screen illuminated her pupils, then contoured her face, to show a sullen regard. As she worked, diligently, a faint knock could be heard from the door.
¡°Mom,¡± a voice called longingly, ¡°may I come in?¡±
The woman sat back within her chair. Her back arched as she stretched and turned. Her chair swiveled with her movements, then rolled back as she kicked her heels on the floor. Like magic, she glided to the door, facing the knob that once was at her back, and gently opened it.
¡°Yes hun,¡± she said smilingly, ¡°what¡¯s wrong? Don¡¯t you know it¡¯s past your bedtime?¡±
¡°I know, but I came to get you. You need some rest too.¡±
The woman looked at her son. He was young, for now, and she knew he needed her the most. Ruminating a bit, she felt that it wouldn¡¯t hurt to put her work aside and sleep for a moment. Following his advice, she took her son in hand and turned him about to go to bed. He followed her urging, briefly shuttling down the hall, and disappearing into a room on the right. The sound of a door closing resonated in the near empty house. After saving her progress, turning off her computer, and locking the door to her office, the woman smiled. She smiled deeply with love and affection for she knew her son would always be her proudest achievement.
After the sun had risen healthily in the air, the smell of coffee permeated in the house. A young boy could be seen walking sluggishly while rubbing his eyes. He paced down the hallway which connected his room. His room was at the far end of the hall, which when facing from the entrance of the house, it was on the right. Across from his room was his mother''s room. Halfway down the hallway was the kitchen, an open area that was down a step that was used as a recreation room, and more hallway to the left. The left side of the house from the entrance was the office and the exercise room.
The coffee smell was coming from the kitchen, obviously. The boy perked up when he caught wind of it. He had this kind of addiction to coffee, ever since he snuck and drank it when he was eight. Seven years past, and even his mom knew of his erroneous actions. By the time she found out, though, he¡¯d be thoroughly addicted.
¡°What¡¯s for breakfast?¡± He asked, musingly.
¡°Nothing much, for you.¡±
¡°Wu¡¯zzat supposed to mean?¡± He said with a little more shock in his voice than he intended.
¡°It means you should¡¯ve been up minutes ago. Now go brush your teeth and wash up, Mr. Grouch.¡±
¡°Mom,¡± he lamented, ¡°you know I don¡¯t like that nickname.¡±
¡°Well, if Mr. Oscar B. Wilden wasn¡¯t so interested in putting mommy dearest behind her work last night, he¡¯d have had more rest to fix himself some breakfast.¡± She chided.
¡°I was only looking out for your health.¡±
¡°I¡¯m only looking out for yours,¡± she retorted coldly. ¡°You¡¯re turning fifteen this year, that you are. I can¡¯t look after you when you go to The Schools, you know.¡±
¡°I know,¡± he resigned. ¡°I just wish¡ I just wish That didn¡¯t happen.¡±
An awkward silence filled the air. The smell of ham, bacon, eggs, and spring vegetables filled the air. Oscar had already made it to the table in the kitchen. It was small, square, and large enough for two people to eat off of. On the table was the source of the smells. In addition to those, there were peeled orange slices, sliced banana, and two smoothies. Oscars eyes were alight with glee when he saw the smoothies.
¡°Mom,¡± he asked jokingly, ¡°you must drug these smoothies. They¡¯re too good.¡±
She chuckled, hardly responding to his joke, then sighed for a moment.
¡°You don¡¯t even know the half of it.¡±
Her words fell on deaf ears. Oscar, having been consumed by greed and hunger, had sat down and begun eating. She turned around with just enough time to see him sticking his third piece of bacon in his mouth. Before she could yell, he tucked tail, and ran while swallowing the savory meat into his gullet.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
The shower room for the house was oddly placed. After entering the exercise room, there was a small closet space. Well, that¡¯s what it¡¯d look like for most people. In actuality, this closet space was a walk in shower. The architects for this house thought it¡¯d be a great idea to increase living space by cutting down on some of the leisure aspects of housing. So, in each bedroom, including the office, there is a small walk in closet toilet and sink set up. Both the toilet and sink came together, by the way. The sink, or what it was, was really the flushing mechanism for the toilet. If you¡¯ve ever watched Tiny House, you¡¯d know what I mean. So, when washing in the morning, a little care was needed. To brush one¡¯s teeth, use the toilet sink. To wash one¡¯s ass, use the shower room and don¡¯t forget to bring a change of clothes.
Exiting the shower was easier. Someone in the design team realized the complexity of having an exercise room modeled after a dojo while having a shower. To exercise restraint, get it, they decided to use a sliding door to hide the door to the shower. So, to get to the shower closet, you have to enter the sliding door closet.
Oscar quickly got dried and dressed. His shower had taken him no more than ten minutes, as he liked to scrub himself, and the food wasn¡¯t too cold when he resumed eating.
His mother, Ariel as she was called by others, had finished half her plate. Slightly peeved that she didn¡¯t wait, Oscar decided to whine. She simply laughed his antagonistic antics off and scoffed at him saying she¡¯d be late for work waiting on him.
For who knows what reason, she was usually right.
Having washed and eaten, Oscar was ready for school. He fanned his naturally multi-colored hair with his hands. The black, gold, brown, and red strands bounced through his fingers before knotting. The curls he had were always worse when his hair was wet. Thinking about that, he¡¯d need to pick his hair out if he didn¡¯t want the frizz to make his hair into a lopsided mess. The more he thought about it, the more he had the intense desire to comb his hair. It was like an OCD person having a fit. Oscar, himself, didn¡¯t have OCD, but that didn¡¯t stop him from acting like he did. He was a firm believer in resisting the urges that came to him. He once read in a book about ancient china there was the practices of Feng Shui and Wu Wei. Feng Shui was the movement of the winds, passing of the days, and the unblocking of vital qi. Wu wei was the release of tension, the relaxation of the mind, and the embracing of zen. Zen is another way of saying, fuck it.
So, as the thoughts of how ugly his hairs were came to mind, Oscar said fuck it. Unfortunately his mom heard him, and like any mother would, she lectured him for centuries. They walked, and they talked, eventually making it out of their front door and down the street.
The residential area where they lived was fairly affluent. It was three blocks away from the outer rims of the northern section. Star city was a city ¡°fairly¡± divided. Excluding the intricate division of the internal, governmental, section, there were eight sections of living. The North, where the wealthy lived. The South where the poor lived. The East, where the rabble played. And the West, where the rabble worked. In order from most wealthy to least wealthy, including the areas in between, the sections can be listed as: North, North-East, North-West, East, West, South. The East and West sections were in competition with one another, though, entertainment always out-earned work. A single day of luxury and play could drive a man to bankruptcy. Assiduously working could take many lifetimes to earn a legacy. It was a difference in morality. Ariel had bought her house on the North East. Though the children in this area ¡°grew faster¡±, she felt that it was better to have a wild child than a wilted one.
Public transportation in Star City was like clockwork, literally. Most people didn¡¯t own transportation. Ariel could afford transportation, and so she took a car to work. When Oscar was old enough to know his own, she allowed him to use public transportation. The busses were never late and seldom early. If the busses said they¡¯d be three yards out by five-fifteen, they¡¯d be two yards out by five-fourteen and a half. It was like clockwork. So, when Oscar¡¯s mom flew off in her hover-car, he was stepping on a bus.
Every bus in Star city had a conductor. The conductors were like the train-conductors on the monorails of the past. Hell, there were even modern monorail conductors on these busses. When the world began expanding due to The Occurrence, flat land technology was lost. Hover-technology on the other hand was rushed into light years distant means. A new energy propulsion system with clean water vapor ejection, and everyone is using these ¡°cars¡±. The drivers only have to press a button and you¡¯re off on a track through the sky. The only downside of hover technology was the shakiness. A simple breeze caused the entire cheap structure to rattle.
¡°Ticket please.¡±
The Conductor was looking dead at Oscar with eyes like a cat looking at a fish out of water. Oscar smiled, having dealt with this situation time and again, and produced a small leather wallet from his pocket. He extended his hand, wallet tightly in his grip, and allowed the man to scan the surface of it using a boxed in machine. The machine was the latest advancement in privacy technology. The wallet was the oldest. Both would block the signals of incoming infrared tracing, but the box would block out only outward infrared tracing while scanning any blocked material inside.
¡°Oscar it is,¡± The Conductor¡¯s eyes glinted strangely, ¡°you sure that¡¯s you?¡±
Chuckling, Oscar replied, ¡°And who else am I supposed to be Frank?¡±
The strange look on Franks face grew even more pronounced, ¡°I don¡¯t know, a handsome bastard?¡±
The bus was primarily empty, but the ones who could hear the banter began to giggle. Oscar took that as a sign to take his seat. He ascended two more steps, looking at the flight liner interior of the vehicle, and chose a seat near the back. There was a man with a bowler hat sitting behind him snoring. He was on the last row, which was also the longest row. They both were seated at the window side. No one was seated next to either. Oscars attention was glued outside the window. He liked to see the clouds as they wound their way into the Governmental section. The rumbling didn¡¯t even phase him. He enjoyed the slight, numbing, vibration. He felt it helped him focus on nothing and attaining his ''wu''.
Indefinite Hiatus
So, sorry guys and gals, but I''m having trouble continuing this story- not because I can''t write it- because I have had a series of events that have lead me to have less time.
Event one:
One of the reasons why I wrote stories was to bide my time while I watched my grandfather. I looked after my grandfather four around 6 or 7 years. He was going demented, senile, and had partial paralysis from a stroke. Not much you can do when you feel locked down in that type of relationship. So, long story short, the grandfather with whom I''d look after, talk to, and generally care for passed on January 30. The following week after I was awake, but lucid, while I helped with the funeral arrangements. I came back, and crashed.
Event two:
While I was helping arrange my grandfather''s funeral, I''d just applied for my first full-time job position. I had to go to the in person interview, rush through it while depressed, and hope I''d get the job. The day my grandfather was buried, while I was carrying his casket, I got a notification I''d been given a chance to work for this company. I was estatic, but numb.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Event three:
As I''ve gotten this new job, the next three weeks from February 3, I had to change my awake schedule. The training period for this job is 8 a.m. through 5 p.m. It takes me an hour to get home, and I haven''t had any money to really eat well. So- luckily for me, my sisters have been helping me. Needless to say, mal-nutrition and altered awake status caused me to be more than lethargic.
Conclusion:
Until I can get back into the role of writing, after my training ends on February 24, there will most-likely be no chapter releases. Sorry for the inconveniance to all those who followed me on the onset of this journey. I will be posting chapters when I get re-acclimated to my proper sleep schedule.
Sincerely,
AKindBoy