A while back, I felt creative, and so wrote four pages of a story, which I eventually hoped to grow into a novela or even a novel, set in a cyberpunkish world, with at least a bit of biopunk thrown in for good measure. However, having written the prologue and some of the first chapter, I ran out of creativity, and haven't come up with more creativity yet. So, here's the prologue. I'll post the first part of the first chapter later, probably after I finish the second part of it, and so on. Or maybe I won't.
Prologue:
An Escape
An Escape
They ran through the sky, laughing and carrying what they had stolen away. Their bodies ran along the ground, ducking and dodging between the pillars of the ruined city, holding nothing but air and memories of what they had done. Behind them, nothing happened. The guards did not wake, the bells did not sound, and the dogs did not run after them, howling for the return of what they had taken. Even so, they were pursued, followed by memories and truth, hounded by guilt. None of them were entirely sure that what they had done was right, and all doubted the truth of the matter.
No matter. They ran, and, in running, left what they had done long behind them, perhaps further behind than any could have possibly expected.
When they first woke, the electrodes scuttling away from their minds, repulsed by conscious thought – for, by law, none must enter except when asleep, and none not asleep may remain – they were elated, the adrenaline of the dream persisting beyond its domain. However, they soon calmed, and, in the harsh reality of reason, began to think. It had begun as only a drunken idea – not drunk in the simple way that you might understand it, where hidden facets come to light, but true drunk, when entirely new entities form within the depths of the mind, and then surface – which had, as usual, been met with approval by all parties. The drink had lent itself to convincing the electrodes to let them in, and to fooling the silicon minds which controlled their world, tricking them into opening the gates. It would also lend itself to hiding what they had done: all they had were memories, and memories are easy to hide – or remove.
But the electrodes would know, and remember. They would tell their masters, the smallest tendrils of the silicon minds, and the knowledge would slowly – or perhaps not so slowly – filter up, and flow around, until no place would remain where they could hide.
The destruction of an electrode – or even a hundred electrodes – was only a minor crime, since the electrodes were technically property, and the punishment would be much less than that for the theft. And so, the electrodes were destroyed, crushed beyond recognition by the brutality of fear.
And the Idea was safe. Nothing would find it, or notice it. At least, not before it was ready.
No matter. They ran, and, in running, left what they had done long behind them, perhaps further behind than any could have possibly expected.
When they first woke, the electrodes scuttling away from their minds, repulsed by conscious thought – for, by law, none must enter except when asleep, and none not asleep may remain – they were elated, the adrenaline of the dream persisting beyond its domain. However, they soon calmed, and, in the harsh reality of reason, began to think. It had begun as only a drunken idea – not drunk in the simple way that you might understand it, where hidden facets come to light, but true drunk, when entirely new entities form within the depths of the mind, and then surface – which had, as usual, been met with approval by all parties. The drink had lent itself to convincing the electrodes to let them in, and to fooling the silicon minds which controlled their world, tricking them into opening the gates. It would also lend itself to hiding what they had done: all they had were memories, and memories are easy to hide – or remove.
But the electrodes would know, and remember. They would tell their masters, the smallest tendrils of the silicon minds, and the knowledge would slowly – or perhaps not so slowly – filter up, and flow around, until no place would remain where they could hide.
The destruction of an electrode – or even a hundred electrodes – was only a minor crime, since the electrodes were technically property, and the punishment would be much less than that for the theft. And so, the electrodes were destroyed, crushed beyond recognition by the brutality of fear.
And the Idea was safe. Nothing would find it, or notice it. At least, not before it was ready.