I don't have a whole lot to say about this piece. It's obviously not that recent... well, I think I wrote it in May. It was for a contest on another website, with a strict word limit, which is why the ending seems so abrupt and out of place. Still, since I posted Thanatos, I thought I might as well post the initial idea for the other concept. I'm debating between this story and Thanatos as the basis for my NaNo this year. Rated R for Deimos' language. I left in the bolded words; they were the contest prompts.
EDIT: Mainly, I'd like comments on Deimos' character, please. She's meant to be an outwardly typical example of the teenage culture in her setting, which I'd loosely describe as cyberpunk. Think Shadow Run, kind of, but without the magic. She'd be the main character in the novel, which would be told in her voice, so I need to make sure she's reasonable.
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I thought it was going to be a simple thing, really, I did. I mean, it doesn't sound that bad, right? You lay back, close your eyes and let them do their thing, and, voila!, there you are, wherever you wanted to be. Like that old sci-fi movie, right? Total Recall? Except you don't just remember your trip, you get to experience it. For extra, they'll even embed that experience right there in your brain, where you can access it any time you want, as long as you buy their little device. Sure, it's a scam and all, but everyone says it's totally worth it. You pay the price, you get your fantasy, you're happy. Everyone says it's a really sweet deal.
So, I go to get it done myself. Hell, I'm not gonna miss out on something that cool, right? I mean, sure, it's a kinda scary thing, but I'm no pussy even if I do have one, and, well, Saturn's ribbing was really gettin' to me. Calling me a scaredy cat and tellin' me I wasn't worth the cost of the gene manip it took to birth me. That really gets my blood to boiling, you know? My momma paid for looks and figure and girlie stuff like that, but I'll be damned if I didn't turn out as good as any man, beauty or not. Never mind she's not too happy she got herself such a fighter, and I'll prove anyone wrong who says I'm not good enough.
And that's how I got myself into this whole mess in the first place.
It was innocent enough when I went in there. The whole clinic set-up, you know? Nice and sterile, professional, like. Please-have-a-seat-and-one-of-our-initiation-counselors-will-be-ready-to-see-you-soon. Mags on the table, some with the fancy new holo covers, some so out of date they're still glossy paper. I was flipping through one of the older teen-zines and laughing at the haircuts when they called my name.
"Deimos Hawthorne?"
So I stand up and she smiles at me, and she's got this cosmetic surgery that makes her eyes real blue, so you can't see what she's thinking behind all that color. We go into a room with a bunch of equipment all over the place, the kind of stuff that's mostly just for show, 'cause you know they don't use all of that! Anyway, she sits me down and starts asking me questions, vital stats and all, and I give her the answers, all SOP. So far it all seems pretty legit. They've got certificates on the walls and everything. So I tell her the truth, 'cause if I go through with this they'll be around in my brain anyway, and they'll know I was lying.
When she's got her paperwork all filled out, she starts asking me questions about the experience I want. I ask her about the standard trips, 'cause there's no way I've got the credits for any kind of custom shit. She lists a few, but they all sound boring, things that would be just as good if I plugged a tape into a VR deck, and I don't know why everyone's been making such a fuss about something so simple, so I tell her so. She smiles this weird little smile and tells me she's surprised, she never expected I was the type to want that kind of adventure. 'Course I got all indignant after that, which is probably what she wanted, because she manipulated me right on into buying this mystery package deal that is like an ongoing adventure I can tap into any time in my head, always adapting to my brain's reactions to the plot. Sounded like a deal to me. I sign her waiver, press my fingerprint up on her little scanner and transfer the money.
All business now, she passes me off to a doctor who's got this gap in his teeth, and I don't like his smile at all. It bothers me 'cause almost as soon as I get into the implant room he's got me strapped in with a ridiculous thing over my head that looks like some kind of old-fashioned lampshade or something, but it's bleeding wires all over the place and I can feel it buzzing against my scalp. I never did get to see where all those wires were supposed to go, 'cause right then I look up at that creepy smile, and the doctor's telling me to relax, and then there's nothing.
I could've been out for a long time, hours, days, or even just a few minutes. There's no way of knowing how time is passing when you're unconscious, and I was out like a light, under my lampshade, ha ha. Anyway, I finally woke up, but everything was still dark, and I thought I was asleep still. I mean, what, is the doctor just gonna leave me like that? No way! So I lie there and try to see something more interesting, 'cause, hell, it's a dream, but there's nothing.
That's when the pain hit me.
At first it was just in my abdomen, all raggedy like Popsicle sticks get when you break them. After I noticed it, though, it was everywhere, just this unbelievable pain. I think I was screaming and struggling, but there was no sound and I wasn't moving. I guess I was strapped down. I couldn't turn my head to look and I couldn't open my eyes, so I dunno. I guess I must've passed out again though, 'cause after a while I couldn't feel it so much anymore.
When I woke up again, I was sitting up on the table in the implant room, staring at all the equipment on the walls just like before. The doctor was even there with that gap-toothed smile of his, all mouth and no eyes.
"What the fuck did you do to me!" I shouted. Hell, I was mad. Whatever that son of a bitch had put me through, it was seriously messed up. I could feel it in me still, like something wasn't right, even though it seemed like I was mostly normal. It was all I could do not to punch that smirking bastard square in the face! "What the fuck did you do to me!"
"Nothing," he said, and the room spun around him like a gyro, until I thought I was gonna hurl my pseudo-beef lunch all over the floor. Fake cow meat and barbecue sauce everywhere! I was actually retching when everything stopped and I was in that blackness again.
This time, I could hear voices.
"She's flatlining again, quick, give me the shot!"
"Doctor, I think she's conscious, her brain is reacting now."
"Oh my God, is she gonna die? Is Deimos gonna die?!" That voice I knew. Saturn... I thought, reaching out to him, but of course he wasn't there.
The voices faded back, as though I were floating to the bottom of a gigantic swimming pool, hearing them through layers and layers of chlorine-water.
Saturn...
This time, when I woke up, I was at home, sitting on my bed next to Saturn. We were watching some dumb cartoon on the TV, but who cared about that, 'cause he was kissing me and I was kissing him back and we were struggling out of our clothes when the pain hit me again and I started screaming.
Blackness.
I wondered if that pain was what vampires feel in that last minute after the sunshine hits them and they're bursting into flame.
Awake. The air is heavy, muggy, fog so thick you can almost drink it. I'm in a boat, I think. Can't see it, but it's rocking under me. There's someone else here, but I can' see who it is. "What's happening to me?" I demanded, but the only answer was this weird deep laughter that sent chills clear through to my soul.
Blackness. This is starting to piss me off.
More blackness. I think I'm starting to forget what consciousness feels like. I wonder if this is death...
I open my eyes and sit up. I'm lying in a plain white hospital room. There's a little tray next to me on the table with a glass of what looks like lemonade, but God knows it could be a piss sample or something nasty like that. I don't touch it.
The doctor comes in. He smiles at me, and his teeth are straight, and the smile reaches his eyes. He's happy. "How do you feel?" he asks me.
"Like I was run over by a train. Is this my new body?"
What? But I was already beginning to realize that it wasn't me doing things, 'cause I hadn't been saying those words, and I wasn't the one admiring myself in the mirror, preening and smiling.
"You'll feel better once the host mind has settled," the doctor said.
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