All posts by catep649

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Tone Pieces (Featuring Levi)

Glowing candles lit the passageway, soft and calming against the pastel-pink walls. Cushioned rugs lay across the floor and creamy white beanbag chairs cushioned the curved edges of the circular retreat. The place looked worn yet new, homey yet starkly clean. It was the perfect place to take his repose in, Levi thought as he traversed the hallway, making his way from candle to candle as he came closer to the chairs.

He’d been offered this place by a friend of his, just for a day, so that he may rest. Levi would take a journey tonight, one that would be scary, but here, in this place, it was impossible to imagine that just yet.

He sunk down into one of the beanbags, sighing in contentment as it enveloped him like a fluffy cloud. The chair made him feel free, like a bird or a fish travelling in a blue expanse. He sighted a bookshelf next to him; in his leisurely state he had not seen it. He grabbed a book at random and read the title: it was Jane Eyre, a classic and one of his favorites. Smiling to himself, Levi wondered how his friend had known that he would be so comfortable here. Then again, they had known each other for ages.

The windows, large and curtained, hinted at sunlight. Reluctantly standing, Levi walked over and threw back the curtains; the light that poured through was the color of vanilla, thick and beautiful against his untanned skin.

Once he had made his way to his chair again, Levi decided to rest before his big night tonight, visiting the Harrow house. He had no time to think of this adventure, though, because in seconds he had fallen into a deep, restful sleep.

 

 

The floor screamed.

Levi jumped, feeling the dusty floorboards whistle and groan beneath him. The house was dark, very dark– a penetrating dark that went through your eyes and right to your soul. The whole place seemed haunted, though Levi had not seen a ghost. Yet.

The last of the sun’s rays had sunk beneath the window long ago, and no light but the flashlight carried throughout the blackness. No one had died here that Levi knew of, but he could not be sure. There was no blood, no smell of decay, yet the house seemed just as haunted as the ones in the movies. It was, from the outside, just like any other house– red brick and a grayish roof, slightly overgrown in the yard but well enough kept by the city government that it didn’t look terrible. The inside, however, was another story.

If Levi had been able to see the walls, he would have seen generations of faces painted along them, a name and a year listed below them. A date of death, not of birth. The inhabitants of the house hadn’t seemed to like life that much. The floorboards were nice hardwood, oak, to be exact, but they were weathered, worn, and coated in layer upon layer of dust. Old clothes hung in the closets that Levi had found, torn to shreds by raccoons and moths who came creeping in during the night. Levi had seem them too.

As he pushed open the door to the kitchen, the door squealed like a frightened animal. Inside the kitchen, pots and pans lay strewn across the floor. Knives glinted in their racks as the flashlight beamed upon them, and their blades, still razor-sharp after all these years, shone with an ethereal glow.

Across the hallway, another door creaked. Levi jumped as a wall began to move before him. A trapdoor activated by the kitchen? Then he heard a hissing voice, a voice as terrifying as the voice of Death himself:

“Who goes there?”

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Futuristic World– The Yemenite Union of Law and Order

“Mum, is that the oven?” Chrissy tromped down the stairs, the pungent smell of smoke filling her nostrils. She snorted in annoyance as she pressed the button to turn off the large, humming machine. “This thing never messes up,” she muttered under her breath.

Hearing the beep of the arriving elevator, Chrissy turned to the Locator. It was her mum.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Chrissy’s mother asked as she stepped through the door before coughing as she smelled the oven’s debacle. The elevator beeped impatiently, needing a fingerprint to close and move back to the second floor. With a sigh, Chrissy’s mum obeyed the intermittent sound and then waved at the elevator. “Off with you, then,” she said, and the elevator scooted upwards.

Chrissy’s mother grabbed the Extinguisher and slowly sucked the smoke from the air. The last time the oven had messed up was years ago, but they kept the Extinguisher because they were middle class and so of course the oven would mess up eventually. Chrissy’s mum wiped her eyes with her shirt, and placed her fingerprint over the Locator to find Arnov. He showed up almost immediately in the game room with their son, Maver, probably playing that oh-so-fun immersive war game again. Why couldn’t they play something normal, like Cooking or Police?

The Locator’s huge screen (they’d saved up for the big version, the five-by-five-foot machine) showed a dot symbolizing another figure as well. It labeled the figurine, bulky and large, as “Unknown Human”, and he was pacing– patrolling?– back and forth just inside the boundaries of the yard. An automated voice beeped into existence, and the Englishwoman sounded almost pleasant as she gave her message: “Unknown figure currently travelling from location 17.5 X, 20 Y to 20 X, 20.2 Y at a rate of 3 miles per hour. Possible weapons on person.” Chrissy and her mum held her breath. Then the horrible, horrible statement: “Presence of one automatic electron gun confirmed with ground cameras.”

Arnov came onto the speaker then. Apparently the screen had booted them out when the security system had confirmed the weapon’s presence. “What’s going on, Isabella?” And another voice, too– Maver’s– groaning in the back. “I was just about to finish those chips, too. Food is rare in this game and–”

“Hush, Maver. We could be in danger here. Real danger,” sounded Arnov’s voice.

“Like the war in–”

“No, Maver. Now hush.”

Isabella responded through the speaker. “There’s an intruder. System warned us a minute ago.”

The Locator chimed– a worried, frantic chime– and asked if the family would like to activate the security system.

“Yes,” replied Isabella nervously. “Make sure that the bills aren’t too high afterwards; we’re short on money.” She turned to Chrissy. “Go upstairs with your brother. Arnov, come down, will you? We’ll take care of this if it gets too bad.”

A second later, Arnov’s figure was moving on the screen. Another twenty seconds and he was on the first floor, and he ushered Chrissy into the elevator. “Be safe,” he told her. The only thing to do was nod.

Maver was waiting for her in the game room, arms crossed. “I feel the need for food. How about some nachos?”

“Sure,” Chrissy replied, and soon the microwave was warm with the premade nachos that they had put in. As they opened it, the aroma of cheese wafted through the room, more real than anything their middle-grade Gamer could produce. Now all they had to do was wait.

They waited for a long time.

Finally, finally, a beep on the Locator just as Chrissy and Maver were finishing their chips. “Threat disabled. The premises are now safe.”

Chrissy groaned with relief.

“Now more food,” said Maver. “It’s lunchtime and I’m hungry.”

They headed downstairs, both in the elevator, to meet their parents for lunch.

***

A soft click signaled the arrival of the children. Isabella already had the Locator on high alert, searching for any other intruders near the house. The police were taking the intruder into their truck, and she and Arnov wanted the children to watch– a good lesson on what happened to criminals.

“Chrissy, Maver, this way,” she told them. Arnov was outside, shaking hands with one of the officers. A pact of safety– you don’t hurt me, I’ll help you. It was the motto of every policer.

The children scampered up to the window. “Where’s the– oh,” said Chrissy as the man was wheeled up to an officer, electric scanners and cuffs holding his limbs in place. Something shone on his neck– a cross. Chrissy shivered. Was there ever a good Christian?

The Stretcher where the criminal lay was already conducting full body scans so that a Suit could be made for him and so that he wouldn’t be able to escape the prison– security was even higher on the Moon than it was on Earth.

“This is why you don’t do anything bad,” Isabella told the two, who were watching with wide eyes. “You don’t want to get sent to the Moon– or Mars, for that matter. Be loyal. The YULO is a great country.”

Chrissy nodded, and Maver murmured “yes, mum” under his breath. They had never seen a criminal before, and the shock was beginning to sink in.

“Alright, you two. How about some lunch?”

“Yes, please!” Their eyes shone as they dashed to the kitchen, ordering a chocolate cake– dieted and with minimal calories, of course, it was the law– and a small Larry’s Lower-Fat Pizza. Arnov, having left the police to deal with the intruder, flipped on the news.

“And Smith will be heading to the Mars Maximum Security Prison on Station 5 later this week. Now for another story, the swearing-in of the Yemenite Union of Law and Order’s new Elector, Harold Germene. Elector Germene will be visiting folks in public squares and work offices, and your ticket to see him is free! Imagine that! Well, we at YULO National News will be excitedly awaiting his arrival and the coverage of the story as it develops.”

The screen behind the newscaster flashed once, and instead of the normal commercials it usually played a video of Germene walking through a swarmed square, flanked by policers, shaking the occasional hand. The people he chose to greet were usually the rich– CEOs, businessman, lawyers, politicians– who had voted him into office. The middle class was only a cheering mob that had to be contained.

Isabella sighed in longing. “If only he’d shake one of our hands, Arnov. They say that if the Elector shakes your hand–”

“Yeah, I know. We’ll have ‘all the money we can get,” he finished for her, “and the everlasting love of the government and its people.’ I wish.”

The kitchen began to smell strongly, and the children squealed with glee as the cake and pizza made their arrival. Despite the measures taken to make the food healthy, the cake still smelled gooey and around the pizza hung the scent of grease. A second later, the children had popped open the cupboards and were taking out plates on which to eat their meals. “Ooh, sausage!” Isabella heard Chrissy sigh. “My fav!”

“And now, for the story we’ve all been waiting for– besides our lovely Elector, of course–” laughs sounded from the studio– “the colonization of one of Jupiter’s remaining moons, Europa. We’re lucky to have it still, because not only has Europa been found as a source of fresh water, but of minute life forms as well. Currently, robots are finishing their work building an above-water station on Europa, near a well where water can be sourced. Scienctists from the USA are saying that the life-forms could transmit diseases, but whoever listens to them?” More laughs. This newscaster is jovial today, Isabella thought. Besides, doesn’t everyone listen to the USA?

“However, this will not be merely a supercity for criminals and the police who spend their lives serving us by guarding them. The upper class will be able to transport to the YULO’s new city there, and trade establishments with spaceships, stations and cities from other countries will soon be made. This, of course, is strictly reserved for the upper class and they are all strongly encouraged to go and…”

Then it hit Isabella. Arnov clearly sensed it too, because they shared a startled look. The only reason that the YULO would be evacuating the upper class was–

“Oh, and one last announcement. The United States has declared war.”

***

As Chrissy drove through the Skynet with Maver in the wheel seat, as the law required, her mind drifted to what they had overheard on the news last night. The war seemed to have come out of nowhere. Now they were at risk of everything– small nuclear bombs at the least, and energy weapons and lasers and things that Chrissy had only ever seen in games.

Besides, though she loved their country, they were going to war over religion. The family officially identified as Muslim, of course, it was law, and they did what they had to in public, but they weren’t really that religious. And Maver was almost 15, the official age for the draft. What if the government chose him? He wasn’t a Jihad. He wasn’t a killer, even though he played those stupid games.

What if he was drafted?

He’d have to fight. He wouldn’t, couldn’t be classified as a criminal– he would have to do as they ordered of he’d be shipped off to the Moon or worse.

Chrissy sighed and pressed her head against the clear glass window. The blue sky rushed past, clouds disappearing in an instant and land eaten up before them. They’d never be able to afford a hopper– they bounced on air so well now that they could get halfway across the world in 50 minutes– but the Dove was a well-equipped Flycar and served them well.

Inevitably her thoughts drifted back to the draft. The Jihadists had taken over Yemen centuries ago, and then the rest of the Middle East, then India and Vietnam and Taiwan until finally they had Korea and China cornered. And after they took over them, well, the whole of Afro-Eurasia and Europe were theirs.

The US, too, had grown more powerful. They allied themselves with every other country in the Americas, and in an act of desperation made them all surrender to their might. A year later and the world had only two countries, the Union and the United.

There hadn’t been war. They’d both been too powerful. But a hundred years later, they had decided to go back to fighting.

The newscaster had seemed almost happy about it. Probably a rich kid being shipped off tomorrow, she remembered thinking. And she hadn’t seen him the next day either.

The news of Europa and of the recent flyby of HD 1897 33ab, set in motion a century ago– the planet was over 60 light years away–were dwarfed by this. War meant destruction, and destruction meant death. Chrissy knew at least this from her meager girl’s education. Maver had had to help her along. Maver, who never wavered– a true-to-self pun on his name. Maver, who was strong and kind. Maver, who was brave. Maver, who was almost a man but still a child.

What if he got drafted?

****

END (or is it?)

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Diction Piece

She laughed as the wetness slapped her, once, twice. The girl’s pigtails swished as she danced and grinned, and though the mare’s ears were pinned the horse allowed the toddler to stroke her nose. The girl held out her hand, and when the mare tried to nibble on it, gentle as a dove, she squealed as tears of laughter dribbled from her eyes. A woman’s hand reached out to clasp the toddler’s waist, and the girl giggled as she was lifted up. The mare’s head followed, and she slurped her tongue over the girl’s arm before retreating to the calm of her paddock.