Whoa. This was a great story! Are you going to continue it? I'm really interested to see what's next!
I learned a lot about the human brain this year... so I thought up a silly concept.
Maiven gently crept from her bed, gave the lump of blankets that hid her brother a quick kiss, and stepped outside. The cool, inky night air washed over her. The summer heat was beginning to make way for autumn chill, and this was her last Transmission Day. She had been both dreading and looking forward to it for months, and now that it was here, her stomach twisted in anxiety. But, nevertheless, she set of determinedly down the road.
It had been a quiet sort of week. No one in their small apartment complex had been arrested or ticketed or raided at three in the morning. Her brother, Scott, hadn't mentioned anything else about wanting to get a job or work as a laborer. She wondered if it had anything to do with the argument they had had a few days before. When it was over, he stormed out to stay his friend's house overnight and Maiven cried herself to sleep. After school he came back and they ate dinner like nothing had happened.
She walked briskly. Just a few blocks away lay the Pit, a brick-lined basement and her Transmission site for weekly SimFights. She wanted to get there quickly. The chill of the night was starting to bite.
The Simulated Fights, or SimFights, were highly popular in the city, and had been ever since Connectors became available. Connectors were short, silicon-covered brass tubes with a small port inside that fit onto the brainstem and jutted out slightly from the neck . They could access the internet, as long as they had a cable, and had completely replaced virtual reality.
Maiven's Connector was installed when she was fifteen. It had cost one thousand credits. Illegally, it would have cost a lot less, but she knew that the surgeons who performed the illicit operations sometimes didn't have sterile equiptment, or they intentionally botched the procedure and kept the cash. So she saved up half-credit after half-credit, day by day, until she had enough. Despite her brother's tears and pleading, she walked the two miles to the surgical hospital and two miles back the next morning.
Since then, she had participating in the SimFights. Until tonight. Tonight was the last time her Connector could be used, before it was spent and she had to go back into laboring in the scrap yard. She could get another. She had the money set aside. But her brain had been overclocked since day one and it needed three years before she could get the Connector replaced. After today Maiven would be risking brain damage or death, leaving her brother alone to fend for himself. He was the reason she fought.
Scott was, in her opinion, too young to work in the scrap yard. Even though their father still sent them money from his work as a miner, it was barely enough to scrape by. So she had three options. Either work as a labourer, harvesting the rusty metal of old machines and making enough for barely a package of pot noodles, or work as a SimFighter and make enough cash to eat five meals a day, every day, for a year. The third choice.... well, that was a shameful route, and she didn't want to put her or her brother through it. So that left option number two.
Maiven turned sharply down one of the many alleyways that lined the street, taking a left and then another left until she found herself in front of the large steel door to the Pit. She pushed the key into the lock and turned, the tumbler making a hollow clunk as it opened.
She'd done this many times before, but tonight felt different. The knob felt clammy under her hand and she felt weak in her ankles and neck. Nevertheless, Maiven stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and walked briskly to the farthest end, where there was another door. She flung it open and stalked into the Pit. It was sparsely furnished- sparsely being two chairs, a few Connector cords, and her friend Baxter’s laptop. Baxter himself was settled in one of the chairs, and when he heard the door open, he glanced at her over the tops of his black glasses.
“So. You've got a mystery rival tonight. Rookie, by the looks of it. Win, and we make a wad. Lose, and we’re still making a ton. You ready?”
“No.”
“Too late. We’re going live in two minutes.
Maiven rolled her shoulders, sat down, and grabbed one of the Connector cords. The end was a long row of tiny metal half-discs, with the rounded side jutting out, and a prong at the bottom. It went into the Connector at the back of the neck, which led to the brain-stem. Controlled via laptop and satellite, they worked in tandem to send artificial sensory signals, expertly coded, along the cord into each respective lobe. Most signals were sent to the parietal and the occipital lobes, which allowed Maiven to "feel" or "see" objects during Transmissions.
Transmissions themselves were also routed from the Connector cord, which sent footage from the occipital lobe back to the laptop, where it was translated into an image that Baxter broadcasted on the internet. Rules stated that Transmissions couldn't end until the fight ended or someone died, meaning you were in it to win it. No backing down. Unfortunately, the system could also kill Maiven. Connectors were notorious for spontaneously sparking or even exploding, causing damage to the brain-stem. Many a fighter with an illegal implant had been severely hurt or even killed. Even so, she loved the feeling of a fight. Combining the threat of death and the need for action pumped her with adrenaline and made her feel alive.
She'd only been hurt once. It had been a simple spark in the neck, but it had done enough to cause her entire body to freeze and crumple. Fisk, her opponent, had forfeited the fight in order to end the Transmission. When Maiven woke up, she was lying on soft sheets, daylight streaming through a window and illuminating the curled-up form of Scott on a chair beside her. Such an incident earned her one week of observation and a ticket from the police. The officer who handed it to her had winked though, and asked if she would sign a page in his notebook so he could give it to his kid.
Scott had pleaded with her for another week, but by then the money she had saved was running out, and so she pushed herself up, checked her spot on the brackets, and went right back into it.
The fights were viewed by thousands every night on illegal streams, the Broadcast hijacked and hijacked again. Every eye would be on her as she pummelled her opponent. It was entertainment, but it wasn't faked- the fights were real, every last one, which was why it was all so dangerous. Because the signals sent to the parietal lobe allowed her to “feel” her environment, she could also “feel” the pain inflicted during fights. And sometimes, but very rarely, the signal of pain was so much that it could cause the brain to shut down.
Tonight would be her last fight for a long time. Win or lose, she wanted to savor it. This mystery opponent was going to have his ass handed to him.
“When I say go, Connect,” Baxter commanded. She nodded in response.
“Three.... two.... one.... GO!”
She pushed the end of the Connector cord into her neck. The effect was instantaneous. Darkness.
“I'm sending the feed to your brain now,” She heard Baxter needlessly say. He was really just going through the motions. They'd done this hundreds of times.
A moment later, she found herself standing in the Arena. It was a room as long as it was tall. The walls were brick and the floor was concrete. “Your opponent is connecting in a second. When he does, it’ll start Transmitting.”
There was a little flicker of light in front of her. She watched as a shape came into form, one of a vaguely stocky boy wearing black shorts and a black t-shirt. His features were still coming into focus. But Maiven recognized him at once.
It was her brother.
She had to fight her brother.
Whoa. This was a great story! Are you going to continue it? I'm really interested to see what's next!
Ooohhhoohooo!
"The lump of blankets that hid her brother." Sneeeakkky. I like it.
The prose in this is rather cool. It gives you an image for your mind to think about, but you're also making it so I don't have ot think long and hard about it. It's nice and refreshing, if you will.
That is to say, there are some things that I'm nitpicking about, and that's just simply, why the heck would they call it a SimFight? My mind first went immediately to that game that I was addicted to a few years ago, XD.
There's a small problem with the amount of exposition you give, and while some of the time, exposition is fine and dandy, there are some times it really doesn't work. For example, to explain the transmitters and SimFights, you take three paragraphs straight to do so. Then a character says "Your opponent will start connecting in a second. Then you'll start Transmitting." She's obviously done the fight many a time, so I don't think it's really necessary to put that in there. And I totally understand that it's hard to convey information without infodumps in short stories. It's totally cool.
But besides the exposition problem, I see nothing wrong with the piece. It's nice and short, and I don't see any grammar problems at all. So yeah. That's really cool. I hope you'd write a part two or something, because that twist at the end made me squee. XD (It's really cool that you did that. I read only a thousand words and I'm already invested in this. Good for you.)
Anyways,
Keep Writing!
Chiravian.
The night was ink-black when Maiven gently crept from her bed, gave the lump of blankets that hid her brother a quick kiss, and stepped outside. The cool night air washed over her. The summer heat was beginning to make way for autumn chill, and this was her last Transmission Day. She had been both dreading and looking forward to it for months, and now that it was here, her stomach twisted in anxiety. But, nevertheless, she set of determinedly down the road. Just a few blocks away lay the Pit, her Transmission site for the weekend SimFights.
SimFights were highly popular in the city, and had been for a number of years, ever since Connectors became available. Ever since she got a Connector, she had participating in the SimFights. Until tonight. Her last night. The last time her Connector could be used, before it was spent and she had to go into labouring in the scrap yard again. After today, if she Transmitted again, she would be risking brain damage or death, leaving her brother alone to fend for himself. He was the reason she fought.
His name was Scott, and he was too young to work in the scrap yard. Even though their father still sent them money from his work as a miner, it was barely enough to scrape by. So she had three options. Either work as a labourer, harvesting the rusty metal of old machines and making enough for barely a package of pot noodles, or work as a SimFighter and make enough cash to eat five meals a day, every day, for a year. The third choice.... well, that was a shameful route, and she didn't want to put her or her brother through it. So that left option number two.
Maiven turned sharply down one of the many alleyways that lined the street, taking a left and then another left until she found herself in front of the large steel door to the Pit. She pushed the key into the lock and turned, the tumbler making a hollow clunk as it opened.
Maiven stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and walked briskly to the farthest end, where there was another door. She flung it open and stalked into the Pit. It was sparsely furnished- sparsely being two chairs, a few Connector cords, and her friend Baxter’s laptop. Baxter himself was settled in one of the chairs, and when he heard the door open, he glanced at her over the tops of his black glasses.
“So. You got a mystery rival tonight. Rookie, by the looks of it. Win, and we make a wad. Lose, and we’re still making a ton. You ready?”
“No.”
“Too late. We’re going live in two minutes.
Maiven rolled her shoulders, sat down, and grabbed one of the Connector cords. The end was a long row of tiny metal half-discs, with the rounded side jutting out, and a prong at the bottom. She knew how it worked. It went into the Connector at the back of the neck, which led to the brain-stem. Controlled via laptop and satellite, they worked in tandem to send artificial sensory signals, expertly coded, along the cord into each respective lobe. Most signals were sent to the parietal and the occipital lobes, which allowed Maiven to “see” or “feel” objects during Transmissions.
Transmissions themselves were also routed from the Connector cord, which sent footage from the occipital lobe back to the laptop, where it was translated into an image that Baxter broadcasted on the internet. Transmissions couldn't end until the fight ended, meaning you were in it to win it. No backing down. Unfortunately, the system could also kill Maiven. Connectors were notorious for spontaneously sparking or even exploding, causing damage to the brain-stem, severely hurting the player or even killing them, even more so when the amount of Transmissions were surpassed. Which was why she loved it so much- along with the threat of death and the action, it pumped her with adrenaline, and made her feel alive.
Tonight was her last fight. Win or lose, she was Transmitting safely for the last time in her life, and she wanted to savor it. This mystery opponent would have his butt handed to him.
There was a little flicker of light in front of her. She watched as a shape came into form, one of a vaguely stocky boy wearing black shorts and a black t-shirt. His features were still coming into focus. But Maiven recognized him at once.
It was her brother.
She had to fight her brother.
Hey there! Thought I might stop by and review for ya! I usually reveiw AS I read, so my reviews are more of a running commentary.
The opening sentence is a run-on. Try breaking it up.
Nice exposition, but try to weave some narrative in there. As it is the expostion is sort of emotionless and just kinda THERE.
Hmmm... mystery as to the third route... again, the exposition would flow better if it were coming from her.
See, mentioning what the Pit is is where some exposition would be good.
The imagery is very nice, but you show us more than tell us. I want to know whats going on in Maiven's head. What's she thinking, what's she feeling? We know she loves her brother, that's about it.
If he's her friend, why call her Rookie? Dialogue is kinda chunky here.
More of what I stated earlier. You tell us whats going on with excellent imagery and detailed descriptions, but as a reader I just can't bring myself to care much, because I'm not seeing it through Maiven's eyes. I can't really relate.
The very end of this paragraph is what I'm talking about. Good job.
Ok, so there's the element of danger. Me likey.
She seems experienced. Why does Baxter call her Rookie?
She doesn't talk much does she?
Skipping to the end: PLOT TWIST! I like it. But put some dialogue in there to heighten the effect. Something like "Maiven?" "Oh, no... No..." You know, to show us what the characters are feeling seeing eachother.
I really like the idea behind this concept, but it could use some polishing. It'd be really interesting to read more and find out what happens and develop the story a bit more.
Good job over all, but try to connect to the reader a bit more.
Any questions, feel free to PM me!
~Q
Hey Tuesday here for a review!
I like the story flow of this. From beginning to end, gave me a sort of suspension throughout this whole piece and not many can do that. I like the concept of SimFights, as the main character was the participator in the fights since the Connecters. Also how she is going to fight for her brother when in the end, he is going to fight against her (to me that seems like a plot twist).
The fights were viewed by thousands every night from inside their homes on illegal streams, Baxter's signal hijacked and hijacked again.
she pummelled her opponent
pummelled should be pummeled . Heyo Kindling, wonderful name, let's get to it. There isn't much technical issues here apart from a few run on sentences and comma splice problem. Read through the story again and I'm sure you can pick it up. I want to focus more on the content itself.
Do you take a neurology class or perhaps a biology class? I happen to have an interest in neurology as well so this story grabbed my interest, I just read books about it in my own time and I think you can take this idea and develop it further. It's interesting but you've cut it off at the most interesting part, there is not enough on the development of the SimFighter and why this society has it and not enough characterisation.
I like your descriptions, they're simple enough but I think you can do better. The starting scene in which Maiven kisses Scott I think would have been a great scene to explore their relationship if you add in a little more emotion. Whilst I'm on this tangent, I want to see more of Maiven and Scott, I feel neither of these characters have been developed fully or to be more specific, Maiven's attachment to Scott. I haven't been given enough background detail to feel that they have that deep a bond. Why can't Scott work? Is he physically incapable, mentally incapable? I know that they've lost their mother but that along doesn't give me anything to relate to them.
I have several questions for you, is there a reason why she couldn't get a new Connector? What exactly is the scarp yard, you need to incorporate these details into your story even if they're small they will make an impact on the readers....The last time her Connector could be used, before it was spent and she had to go into labouring in the scrap yard again.
There, this part. You can explain about Connectors and Transmission during those few seconds and tell us some of Maiven's emotions as well. For someone who's having her Transmission fight and the forbidding possibility of working in the scrap yard she is surprisingly calm.“I'm sending the feed to your brain now,” She heard Baxter say. A moment later, she found herself standing in the Arena. It was a room as long as it was tall. The floor was wood and the walls were concrete, painted beige. “Your opponent is connecting in a second. When he does, it’ll start Transmitting.”
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