A Simple Story
Omega1
Join Date: 2002-11-29 Member: 10263Members
Join Date: 2002-11-29 Member: 10263Members
Well folks, I was bored, and I can't sleep, so, I threw together a quick intro to a story which I'll add on to, if I get a posative response from you guys. Mind you, it was typed out in about 10 minutes, and hasn't been proofread or checked beacuse in all real sense, i'm too tired to do so. Anyway, tell me what you think, I'd if you folks liek where it's going, I'll add to it.
The shackles of my time were never anything of alcohol, drugs, or sex. They weren't of the color of skin, or the land of my people. They weren't how much money I made, or who I worked for. Heh, It wasn't even work anymore. It was the only thing I had left. After Robert Samperson had given me an advertisment diskett, and told me to just take a look, I had been sucked in. Not that it was a bad thing, with the free food, plenty of site seeing, and a very suave uniform. The only shackles I had were from within me. The utter fear I experienced. IT wasn't even an experience, it was my job, my LIFE, that was fear.
Sure, I started out like all the other recruits for the TSA. Young, naive, a little hot headed. I'll tell you, if you didn't shape up after day 2, you were in for a world of hurt. I found that one out that hard way. Who would of thought that a drill instructor had the legal right by contract to break your jaw with the stock of your own gun? I'm still missing one of those teeth.
Of course, the training was rough, the days long, the excersise, which were more jsut to see how long we lasted, were overpoweringly grusome. We went from 230 recruits to 45 in a two week time span. The amount of men I saw leaving every day almost made me do the same, with their glum faces or despair, humility, and overall embareassment. I felt the same way, but there was that little voice in the back of my head, the one I listen to, even when I know it's trying to get me killed. I guess why I'm here on the Albatross right now. Godforsaken hunk of metal in the middle of nowhere.
-End: Audio Journal Entry #284
-Subject: James Haversome
"Hey J, you still playin around with the damned lil 20th century peice of crap?" "Yeah, what's it too ya?" "Nothin, just figured you'd use a holo recorder like everyone else, not some peice o crap from them dark ages. Hell, thing even looks like it's..." "Watch your mouth, Jim, you know who gave this to me, and I ain't about to let you badmouth him." "I know, I know, I just think you need to get out of that darn anti-nanotech shell of yours. This is the TSA man. Everyhting is nano technology. I'm surprised you haven't quit already." "Yeah, well, I haven't"
Waking up in the morning was a pain in the ****.
The mess hall was as inviting as usual. Peices of wire hanging from the ceiling, the florecent light over one of the tables constantly flickering, and the smell of the food alone wanted to make you turn and open up one of the emergency pods and fly into a nearby star. It was jsut another day of being a TSA private. Nothing to do but eat, sleep, and play poker. Sure, it was great and all for the first two weeks or so, but then you start thinking, and when you start thinking, then your in trouble.
"Hey J, take a seat up over here, you don't wanna wait in line today, they're serving yesterdays pancakes." "Well, 'yesterdays pancakes' have been the same pancakes for a 4 days, so I figure they tasted like crap the first time, so the whol lot of them have to taste like crap, right?" The chairs were uncomfortable as usual, as I slid one over to Greg Thompson. Old friend from back home. We used to chase women together. Hell, if there hadn't been a cure for ciphilus and herpes, the poor man would probably be back home, poppin pills like mad. "Anything new and exciting go on last night in that overactive head of yours, J?" Same question he'd been asking for the last 12 1/2 years. "Well, I was thinkin bout your mom, but Jimbo over there started moaning in his sleep again, so I figured we may have both been in the same dream, and you know how I feel about your mom..." "Aw, shut yer trap, man. Hey, rumor has it we're checking out some godaweful techie installation today. Supposedley theres been no contact for a few days..." He started to lean forward, like he always does when he gets excited. "...and that the last transmission was full of screaming and horrible noises that no God made creature could have made." I simply shrugged my shoulders. He'd been telling me that for a few days now, hoping he'd be right one of these days, and we may actually fire a round before we headed back home.
We sat there for a few hours, talking, like usual. We started playing a little game of poker, smoking our cigars, when our C.O., Doug Hambridge, showed up. If we hadn't known that he hated formalities, we would have stood up, saluted, and kissed his **** like any other green necked private who got the "lucky break" to hop on a ship at the last minute. Still, the man did have the aura of a leader floating around him, and the mind of one too. Soon as the hydrolic doors started to slide close, everyone looked at him. He had the smug grimace of a winner on. We were heading out.
The shackles of my time were never anything of alcohol, drugs, or sex. They weren't of the color of skin, or the land of my people. They weren't how much money I made, or who I worked for. Heh, It wasn't even work anymore. It was the only thing I had left. After Robert Samperson had given me an advertisment diskett, and told me to just take a look, I had been sucked in. Not that it was a bad thing, with the free food, plenty of site seeing, and a very suave uniform. The only shackles I had were from within me. The utter fear I experienced. IT wasn't even an experience, it was my job, my LIFE, that was fear.
Sure, I started out like all the other recruits for the TSA. Young, naive, a little hot headed. I'll tell you, if you didn't shape up after day 2, you were in for a world of hurt. I found that one out that hard way. Who would of thought that a drill instructor had the legal right by contract to break your jaw with the stock of your own gun? I'm still missing one of those teeth.
Of course, the training was rough, the days long, the excersise, which were more jsut to see how long we lasted, were overpoweringly grusome. We went from 230 recruits to 45 in a two week time span. The amount of men I saw leaving every day almost made me do the same, with their glum faces or despair, humility, and overall embareassment. I felt the same way, but there was that little voice in the back of my head, the one I listen to, even when I know it's trying to get me killed. I guess why I'm here on the Albatross right now. Godforsaken hunk of metal in the middle of nowhere.
-End: Audio Journal Entry #284
-Subject: James Haversome
"Hey J, you still playin around with the damned lil 20th century peice of crap?" "Yeah, what's it too ya?" "Nothin, just figured you'd use a holo recorder like everyone else, not some peice o crap from them dark ages. Hell, thing even looks like it's..." "Watch your mouth, Jim, you know who gave this to me, and I ain't about to let you badmouth him." "I know, I know, I just think you need to get out of that darn anti-nanotech shell of yours. This is the TSA man. Everyhting is nano technology. I'm surprised you haven't quit already." "Yeah, well, I haven't"
Waking up in the morning was a pain in the ****.
The mess hall was as inviting as usual. Peices of wire hanging from the ceiling, the florecent light over one of the tables constantly flickering, and the smell of the food alone wanted to make you turn and open up one of the emergency pods and fly into a nearby star. It was jsut another day of being a TSA private. Nothing to do but eat, sleep, and play poker. Sure, it was great and all for the first two weeks or so, but then you start thinking, and when you start thinking, then your in trouble.
"Hey J, take a seat up over here, you don't wanna wait in line today, they're serving yesterdays pancakes." "Well, 'yesterdays pancakes' have been the same pancakes for a 4 days, so I figure they tasted like crap the first time, so the whol lot of them have to taste like crap, right?" The chairs were uncomfortable as usual, as I slid one over to Greg Thompson. Old friend from back home. We used to chase women together. Hell, if there hadn't been a cure for ciphilus and herpes, the poor man would probably be back home, poppin pills like mad. "Anything new and exciting go on last night in that overactive head of yours, J?" Same question he'd been asking for the last 12 1/2 years. "Well, I was thinkin bout your mom, but Jimbo over there started moaning in his sleep again, so I figured we may have both been in the same dream, and you know how I feel about your mom..." "Aw, shut yer trap, man. Hey, rumor has it we're checking out some godaweful techie installation today. Supposedley theres been no contact for a few days..." He started to lean forward, like he always does when he gets excited. "...and that the last transmission was full of screaming and horrible noises that no God made creature could have made." I simply shrugged my shoulders. He'd been telling me that for a few days now, hoping he'd be right one of these days, and we may actually fire a round before we headed back home.
We sat there for a few hours, talking, like usual. We started playing a little game of poker, smoking our cigars, when our C.O., Doug Hambridge, showed up. If we hadn't known that he hated formalities, we would have stood up, saluted, and kissed his **** like any other green necked private who got the "lucky break" to hop on a ship at the last minute. Still, the man did have the aura of a leader floating around him, and the mind of one too. Soon as the hydrolic doors started to slide close, everyone looked at him. He had the smug grimace of a winner on. We were heading out.
Comments
Nice story, nicely fleshed out as an introduction, and almost feels like this is just the lull before some bit of creeping suspense takes over and eventually bursts into a frantic fight for survival. I hope. <!--emo&:p--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/tounge.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='tounge.gif'><!--endemo-->