Re-re-re-return

Back again!

I am purchasing Story Dice tomorrow, and during my recuperation from having an organ removed I have determined to write a new story every day, and continue to work on my novel. Virginia is now (finally) Emma, Richard is actually Henry, and many, many, many, many other things have changed. More on this soon!

10/21/12 Scifi gobbledygook

Yes, yes, blahdebloo, it's been fifty thousand years since anything has been posted. I've been listening to Great science fiction audiobooks lately (yes, Great with a capital G), and worrying over whether I am a truly creative soul or not. Tonight, on impulse, I opened up Word and discovered that, instead of too little to say, I really have waaay too much. To the point where I am lousy with details and drown people in them. It's interesting, to be sure. Here's my dribble for the day.

--- 

 Alex had always drawn comfort from things; the cocoon-like glow one gets from being in a room of your own devising, with all your treasures around you, and it was this that sustained her through the voyage to the academy. She had no schematics of her new room, no idea of the size except that it was at least half that of her bedroom back home, and no concept of how many others she was expected to share quarters with. Nevertheless, she spent most of the three months it took to go from the Dagobar system to Alpha Draconis rearranging holos in different configurations near her future bed (the actual photos of her parents and Holly would go nearest her head, of course) and placing her tiny treasures in nooks, crannies, or on chests of drawers, depending on the imagining she had that week of her impending home. It was tedium by the second week, practically arranged by the fourth, but it was all she had. Aside from her required workouts every night in the gym, she was confined to her tiny cabin for the entirety of the trip, with nothing but her course materials to read, and no electronics allowed.

            The trouble that had gotten her practically imprisoned had begun the day she arrived. She had stood on the gangplank with her family, her luggage beside her, as it swarmed with stewards and bots coming to and fro with necessary supplies.

            “You’ll send a message as soon as you get in,” her mother said for the hundredth time.

            “Yes, mother, I shall not waste the card on food or comfort or alcohol on the ship, and upon arrival I will march straight to my bunk, ignoring all orders or potential friends, and report to you the fact of my un-death.”

            “Just be careful and send the message,” her mother had repeated. Her father pulled her into a last embrace and dropped a whiskery kiss on the top of her head before stepping back, squaring her shoulders, and saying gruffly, “You make us proud.”

            “I will.” His hand fluttered softly on her shoulder as he scanned her face, 

---

We'll see if I come back to it. It screams Hyperion and Ender's Game and Starship Troopers to me. But then again, if I ever reach the level that people can accuse my work of being like any of those, I will be proud.

Guess who's back?

...me! Finally! After one of the worst nine-month periods of my entire life, where my world was flipped upside down a million times, I'm back. Admittedly, it's with a random story about Mr. Pimms rescuing a kitten, but we all have to start somewhere. I've made some fairly major changes to the story from what I imagined it to be in February, but I'm reaaaaaaaaaaaally excited about where it's going and I can't wait to get started. I should really finish those character descriptions though, they'll definitely be of use to me as Virginia (nee Franny)'s was to me. Still haven't quite gotten her name right, but Virginia is close. Anyway!

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        Mewling and crying, the kitten was swept down the current as its mother batted helplessly at the water, carried away from the only warmth and comfort it had ever known into an abyss black beyond imagining. It looked back, once, seeing only a bright green-and-blue blur with its underdeveloped eyes as it entered the long serpentine tunnel underneath Hyde Bridge. The bridge itself was considered both a marvel of engineering and a complete waste of space, as it exited the river 500 yards from the point of entry in order to showcase the most modern form of bracing spans over long distances, but that mattered little to the tiny being currently underneath it, save that it plunged the poor thing into complete blackness for what seemed an eternity. It drove its tiny paws into the water over and over again, using the brief lift each downstroke provided to gasp a breath before its head was plunged underwater by the merciless current.

It was carried around a bend, and for a moment it found purchase on the bottom, strangely smooth and ridged beneath it, but was whisked away again before it could find enough purchase to reach the shore. This sent the kitten into a complete panic, and it wasted precious energy trying to flail its way to the other side before lack of air forced it to stop, and concentrate on breathing. Suddenly, the water dropped as it crested a small ridge, forcing the kitten completely underwater, pinwheeling it until it had no conception of up or down, and it was only saved by the rock it bounced against, pushing it upward until it finally broke the surface again. Still completely disoriented, it failed to notice the light coming from around the bend as the creek ran free of the bridge, and the sudden brightness as it emerged only served to confuse it further. 

Mr. Pimms was methodically studying the slight sag in Strut 26B as he had been instructed when a loud splashing from underneath the bridge distracted him. He rose in one fluid yet constant (consistent speed?) motion, and strode to the center of the stream in order to investigate. He had been told to collect all data regarding the possible reason for the sag, and noises indicated movement, which could indicate force, which could indicate damage to the strut, which would provide a logical explanation for the angle at which it was currently sitting.

 The kitten, disoriented, almost blind, half-drowned, and exhausted, could do no more. As it emerged from the bridge, it no longer had the strength to push itself out of the water, and thrust upward for one final gasp before it sank underneath, unable to move. Suddenly, it found itself grasped in a hard metal cage, being pulled inexorably upwards into sweet air and sunlight. Shivering and nerveless, it hung limp, concentrating only on drawing in as much air as it could.

Judging by its size, the creature currently in his hands did not possess sufficient strength to damage the strut, Mr. Pimms decided, and was therefore unlikely to be the source of the problem. While it possessed sufficient mass to do damage if propelled at the strut at a high enough velocity, Mr. Pimms regarded that as unlikely as well. Any wielder of an object capable of hurling a projectile at another object with the intention of damaging it would undoubtedly use an projectile that was either harder or heavier or both. Satisfied that he had exhausted all inquiry connected to the strut with the creature, he began lowering it to the place that he had found it.

“Mr. Pimms, what on earth are you doing?!” A whirlwind of scarlet and royal blue descended upon him, resolving itself into Miss Virginia. Mr. Pimms went to tip his hat to her as was dictated, but the movement upset her more than his former lack of propriety.

“No, don’t drop the poor thing!” she cried, holding out her hands as the kitten fell from his. “Didn’t Uncle program you t-wait, give me your coat first, it’s going to shiver itself to death in a moment and I don’t want to ruin my new dress.”

Wrapping it tenderly in the impeccably tailored coat she was given, she cradled the kitten gently against her and dried its face with the sleeve before facing him again, completely oblivious to the fact that she was standing in 2 inches of mud and was not yet ruining her dress but was most certainly making a mess of her also-new shoes.

“Didn’t Uncle program you to preserve the life of a living being if you could?” she said, jabbing a finger at his face.

He shook his head.

“He just programmed you to preserve the life of a human if you could, didn’t he?”

A nod.

             

            Her mouth compressed into a thin line. “Well, until he can make it a permanent part of your programming, I am issuing you a new directive, under the authorization given me by Uncle. If a living being is in distress, preserve its life if you can. Understood?”

             

            Mr. Pimms raised a finger.

             

            “Yes?”

             

            It moved slowly from Virginia, to the kitten, to Virginia again, followed by a slight tilting of the head.

             

            “People are first priority unless instructed otherwise, all other beings in order of the severity of their distress,” she said after a moment, finally deducing what he was asking.

             

            Mr. Pimms nodded, tipped his hat, and splashed methodically back to Strut 26B. He had been told to attempt to resolve the problem today, and Master James would be home in a few hours.

             

           Virginia whirled around and began stomping to the barn, where Cantonia had last been seen nursing her new kittens.

           

           “Poor thing…” she murmured to the kitten in her arms, before glaring in the general direction of the house. “Honestly, he doesn’t think anything through, great scientist or no.”

Nevermind.

Franny's last name is Marlow, same as her uncle and cousin, as she is related to them through her paternal side and would, therefore, be a Marlow. Still debating the spelling, as I feel it would be much cooler with an unnecessary e on the end of it but that would also make it much less authentic. I'll most likely keep the e off.

Character descriptions!

Matt was saying not 20 minutes ago that I should do character descriptions for everyone, and as I'm really having trouble finding Uncle James' voice, I think it would help to put them all into their physical bodies. And of course I have to describe their personalities, since personality and thought is really all I care about as a writer. Though I'm getting better at describing things; I must read more of the poetry of the day as it's helping immensely. Wind-swept moors and a wood standing lonely on a hill...makes my inner romantic swoon a bit. But anyway, the (rough) main cast of Earthshaker (or something. First novel may be Earthcrafter since she doesn't do much shaking. Also cannot call it shaking since that makes me think of Franny shaking her bustle as she sweeps out the yard. Tee hee.)

Franny (Francesca) Hurst (last name up for debate): My dearest, darling, impossible, sensible, stubborn child. Bookish, slightly prissy, moral, quietly pretty, with a sharp tongue that is fortunately rarely unleashed. Although she is frank and fearless among those she loves, she is a bit reserved in the world at large, as her upbringing did not really provide her with much socialization. She adores reading about the latest fashions and loves pretty things, but as she's been raised by an Earthshaker and taught how to do sendings, she can stomach no little amount of dirt (as long as she gets a nice hot bath to herself afterward). She loves to learn, and has a vast trove of random knowledge (since she hopped from interest to interest as a child), and nothing is better to her than sitting in the study with a fresh book, immaculate attire, and a perfectly brewed pot of tea.

Physically, she is is a classic child of that era in that she has a thin build, almost birdlike, and moves gracefully. Spending time out in the arena has caused her to have a smattering of freckles on her cheeks and across her nose, which she hates, and has caused her skin to have a darker appearance than the fashionable lily-white ladies of the the period. This isn't helped by the more olive skin tone she inherited from her half-Spanish mother, though it gives her a bit of an exotic look in her more disheveled moments. She has glossy, straight, light brown hair, which she usually keeps up in a bun or other sensible hairstyle, though she does curl the stray wispy bits and her bangs as a nod to fashion. Her eyes are large and slightly doe-like, giving her an innocent air when open fully, but are usually narrowed in concentration, her nose straight and aristocratic, and her mouth a pretty cupid's-bow pout, lips full and curved slightly up at the corners. She generally looks like an innocent, happy child, but that can quickly change with one of her fierce black frowns.

As she loves fashion, she is always dressed in true Victorian (steampunk!) style. She looks good in darker colors, especially forest greens, and gold, and loves the trinkets her uncle makes for her out of spare cogs and mechanical parts. As she lives out in the country, footwear is generally leather horsewoman boots, sturdy but with a large enough heel to accentuate her figure when walking. Dresses are fashionable but sensible (Terry Pratchett once had a character description that went something like "She had a small fashionable hat, which perched quietly on her head for no discernible purpose, and her only other concession to fashion was a small bum-roll, which achieved a certain perkiness in the rear without the need to wear several layers of dangerously spring-loaded underwear," and that is exactly what I think Franny would be like). She does have a weakness for jewelry, however, and is constantly trying new variations on the various necklaces, rings, and bracelets her cousin brings from London and her uncle makes for her in his workshop. The only piece she has on her at all times is her mother's pocketwatch, dainty and ladylike with its intricate gold filigree on the front and its face open to show the inner workings. Also, she loves intricately beaded or embroidered corsets but rarely gets to wear them as she is a country girl.

Actually, looks like Franny is it for the moment since it's now 1:15 and I've been up since 8 this morning. Stay tuned for James, Edward, Richard, and Mr. Pimms!