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 Post subject: Numbered--Short Story
PostPosted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 12:21 pm 
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Merchant
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Posts: 183
Location: New Orleans
This is just a story I wrote a few months back. I'd like some feedback on it. I've been thinking about turning it into either a screenplay or a comic. ^_^'

Rated PG-13 for implied language (Which the forum censors 8D)

Futuristic sci-fi-ish thing.


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 Post subject: Part One
PostPosted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 12:24 pm 
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Merchant
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Location: New Orleans
All my life, I grew up knowing what I was missing. I wasn’t sheltered, really. Well, okay, I was, but I was also informed. I lived with my parents and siblings, as well as other families who lived just like us. “Normal” people called us an experiment, but we just chose to live differently. Well, I didn’t have much of a choice, I was born into it.

But I wanted more. I wanted to know how society really worked, and not how we made it work in our little bubble world. So, to be frank, I left.

--

GARRETSBURG, NEW YORK – 2132

I walked from home and caught a jet in Orlando. I was the only one; jet travel had been out-dated for years and was the transportation for the poor—like me. But now in New York state, I didn’t know what to do.

A little girl stopped on the street, no adult anywhere to be seen, and asked why I wore such funny clothes. I looked down at my worn jeans and corduroy jacket, covering the ancient t-shirt. I bent down to her level. “I’m not from around here,” I said, noting her common outfit that I had only seen before in books and magazines.

“Well, that’s a silly excuse,” she said, pushing her short hair behind her ear, “I’m not from around here, but my clothes are normal.”

“Do you have parents?” I asked, looking around.

“There’s Daddy,” she replied simply, now pulling at the bottom of her shirt.

“Where is he?”

“I dunno. But I’m old enough to have a HI/T! He can find me when it’s time to go home. I got it when I was two.” She looked proud of herself. “You’ve got your HI/T, right? So your daddy can find you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I admitted, “What’s a ‘hit’?”

“I dunno. It’s right here, though.” She turned around and pointed to the back of her neck. “Everyone’s got one, Daddy says. You must be weird.”

A man walked up and took the girl by the hand and pulled her away. “Four, how many times have I told you not to talk to strangers.”

“He’s nice, Daddy,” Four said, “But he doesn’t have his HI/T.” The man looked at me, almost glaring.

“I should report you,” he said, and walked off. Four looked back at me and waved goodbye. I stood up and waved back.

“Well,” I thought, “I’m probably quite [censored].”

--

I spent the remainder of the day walking around the city. Luckily, I managed to find some more suitable clothes. The fabric was a bit uncomfortable, but I got used to it after a while. It was somewhat like spandex, but not as tight or stretchy. Maybe like nylon, but still somewhat like spandex. Either way, it was different from what I was used to.

It was around dinnertime that I finally began to feel hungry. I entered what I assumed to be a bar and sat down at a table. Without warning, another man soon sat down with me.

“You’re not really from around here, are you?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious?” I asked, suddenly feeling really paranoid that I had done something weird.

“No, I’ve just never seen you before,” he said, “And your hair’s all wrong.” At this statement, I put a hand on my head and stuck my fingers into my fairly-short hair. I noticed that his hair was semi-long and kind of shaggy, yet well-kept and clean.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said.

“No worries. It’s just a fad, it’s not like it’s actually important.” At that point, a keypad rose out of the end of the table. The man pushed some buttons and it went away.

“What was that?” I asked, looking at the spot that it had disappeared into. I never would have guessed that it was in there if I hadn’t seen it emerge with my own eyes.

“Order pad. Do you never eat out?”

“No, not really. What’d you order?” I looked back at him.

“A couple beers. You’re not opposed to beers, are you?” He smiled jokingly.

“No, of course not,” I said, not admitting that I had never had one before. I was only eighteen, which was the drinking age in my town, but it wasn’t really a big deal to be able to legally drink.

“Good,” he said. There was a pause as two cold bottles of beer emerged from near where the order pad had come out. I looked under the table, noting that there definitely was not enough room for a bottle to come from down there.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“Where are you from?” he asked, taking a drink of his beer. I simply held the cold bottle in my hands.

“Florida,” I said simply. “We don’t really have anything like this in my town.”

“Gotcha,” he said, taking another sip. “My name’s Six Joiner, by the way.”

“Six?” I thought back to the girl named Four. “Why numbers?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I met a girl earlier named Four, and your name is Six. Why’s that?”

“Because I was the sixth born, that’s how it always works. Are you not numbered like that in Florida?” he looked curious, as did I.

“No, we have names. I’m Ashby Ryland. Is everyone numbered?”

“We’re not ‘numbered’; the way you’re saying it makes us sound like animals. And, no, only those who come from breeders are given number names.”

“Breeders?” I inquired.

“What?” he asked, “Do you live under a rock?” I shrugged. “What’s that mean?”

“Well, I come from a town where we live like humans did near a hundred years ago.”

“Well, that’d explain a lot,” Six said. “So you really don’t know what’s going on, do you?” I shook my head. “Alright, then,” he said, “The majority of the female population are breeders. The others are either very rich and actually married, or work for the government as prostitutes.”

“You mean the government employs women as prostitutes?” I asked, feeling completely lost.

“To say the least, yes. I mean, us men have got to pleasure ourselves somehow, and not all of us are up for having anal sex with other men, you know.” I looked sickened. “What? You’ve never been taught anything about homosexuality?” I shook my head again. “You did live under a rock!”

“It wasn’t my choice, you know. I left as soon as I could.” I still hadn’t drank the beer.

“How old are you?” he asked, looking me up and down.

“Eighteen,” I admitted.

“Ah, alright. Are you going to drink that?” He motioned toward my beer and I shook my head, nudging it across the table to him. “Thanks.”

“So, tell me more about these breeders,” I said.

“Well, like I said, it’s most of the female population. There are men, of course, but not nearly as many. Some are just volunteers, too. It’s a good way to make some quick numbers.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Donate your sperm, they give you numbers.”

“What’s all this about numbers?” I asked.

“Currency,” he said, “It’s not dollars like it was before, they’re just numbers.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card and laid it on the table.

“What’s that?” I asked. I picked it up and examined it.

“My MPC.”

I handed it back to him. “MPC?” I asked.

“Multi-Purpose Card. I’m surprised you made it all the way here without one.” He stuck it back in his pocket.

“How does it work? What’s on it?”

“Money, health records, home keys, motor keys. Those sorts of things. You can only use it if your HI/T matches it. All MPC ports have scanners and such; it’s all out of my league, really.”

“Again with that ‘hit’ thing. That little girl mentioned it, what is it?”

“Human Identification/Tracking. Everyone has one. You’re illegal without one, actually. Well, if you’re over three years of age. Most people have their kids’ HI/Ts by the time they’re one or two, just in case they get lost.” I put my hand on the back of my neck. I suddenly felt very self-conscious.

“How would I get one?” I asked.

He laughed. “Well, to be blunt, I’m pretty sure you’re [censored], Ashby Ryland.”

--

We left the bar together after Six had kindly bought me a sandwich. He had informed me that it would probably be best to return to where I had come from, but at that point, I couldn’t imagine turning back.

“You should be satisfied,” he said, “You’ve gotten to see what a hellhole this world really is. Why would you want to stay here?”

“Because it’s normal,” I admitted.

“Well, that’s a pretty [censored] reason. I really think you should go back to where it’s safe. From what I can tell, your town is one of the few that the government allows to live like that. Odd, really. Sometimes I feel like they’re trying to brainwash us, you know?”

“No, not really.”

“Well, anyway…” He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “Would you like a soda?” I shrugged.

“Sure.”

He stopped in front of what I guessed to be a vending machine, and pulled out his MPC and stuck it in the card slot. Simple enough. A light blinked, and he pushed a button. A soda fell into the hole at the bottom. He retrieved it and handed it to me, returning the card to his pocket.

“So, with these MPCs, is there any way for someone to steal money?” I opened the soda and took a sip. It was different from what I was used to, but not all that bad.

“No, not that anyone’s discovered, anyway,” he said as he continued to walk. “There actually isn’t much theft, anyway. I guess there’s just not much to steal. Most things that were worth stealing in the past are now supplied to everyone by the government; communication devices, motors, those sorts of things.” He turned and started to go inside a building. I followed him, hoping he didn’t mind.

“Is this where you live?” I asked. He nodded, pulling his card out again and inserting it into the card slot on a second entrance door. The same little light blinked as it did at the vending machine. “You don’t mind that I’m following you, do you?”

“No, it doesn’t really bother me. As long as you don’t do anything stupid to get yourself caught, because then my [censored] would be in trouble.” He went inside and up a flight of stairs. The building was fairly old, definitely something from the late 2000’s. It was designed differently than the apartments in my town, that was for sure. We stopped outside a door, and he inserted his card into the slot and there was that little blink of a light again. He opened the door.

“What’s that little light do?” I asked as we went inside.

“It’s checking my HI/T. It also records any other HI/Ts that it senses. If you had one, it would know you were here, but since you don’t, then it just thinks that I’m the only one here.”

“Will that be a problem?” I set the backpack I had been carrying down next to the door.

“It shouldn’t be. People manage to sneak into rooms all the time without being detected. You only need to stand a bit away, and you’ll get away with it.” He shrugged.

I looked around the room. There were band posters on the wall, a bed, and what I assumed to be a computer, or some sort of modern-day equivalent. There was no television or stereo, no dresser. I did notice what appeared to be a closet, and also a bathroom to my left.

“What do you normally eat?” I asked, noticing that there wasn’t a kitchen.

“I go out a lot,” he said, “I may have been born from a breeder, but I’m definitely not the poorest guy out there.”

“Do you work?” I asked.

“I guess you could call it that,” Six said, “No one really works, since most of the jobs I’m sure you’re thinking of are done by computers.”

“How do you know so much about what I know?”

“I studied history, and I’m only assuming that you lived like they did in, oh, say… the 2010’s? 20’s?”

“Yeah, I guess somewhere around there… It sounds kind of silly, now that you say that…” He sat down on his bed and offered the desk chair to me. I sat down and looked around.

“So, you like music?” I asked.

“Not really,” he admitted, “I just like to collect these posters. A lot of them are old and worth a lot of numbers.”

“Where did you get them all?” I was inspecting them, some of the bands I actually recognized.

“Most of them I got from the ‘net. I suppose that’s what I spend a lot of my numbers on.”

“How did you get so much… so many numbers?”

“My father was rich, I guess. He was one of ‘the elite’, I guess you could call them. He had a real family. He bought me from the breeders when I was born. I guess he and his wife couldn’t have their own kids. That’s what the rich people do. Men who aren’t rich—they may not be poor—they buy kids from the breeders. Women don’t, because if they’re not breeders, and they’re not rich, then they’re prostitutes, as I said before.”

“Well, that seems a bit sexist,” I said, slightly upset by the workings of society.

“Well, that’s life,” Six said.

“So, if you were raised by rich people, why don’t you have a not-number name?”

“Because I was still born of a breeder. I’m sure that, somewhere out there, you could find Joiners up to twenty, at least. My biological mother, she’s Fourteen Joine. ‘Join’ with an ‘e’ at the end. Every generation, there would be another letter added to the last name, just to keep them different. Once they get to six letters or so, they start back at the stem name, which normally has four letters. So, say I had a biological sister named Eleven Joiner, and she’s a breeder, which she most likely is, then her first child would be One Join.”

“That makes no sense,” I admitted.

“I think it makes perfect sense.”

I yawned, wondering what time it was.

“Are you tired?” he asked, looking wide awake.

“I guess. I haven’t really slept since I left home…”

“Well, I guess that’s good. Had you slept out on the streets, you’d’ve been picked up, and once the cops found out that you didn’t have a HI/T, you’d be gone.”

“What would happen if they found that out?”

“You’d probably be killed.”

I felt my face fall. “Oh.”


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 Post subject: Part Two
PostPosted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 12:26 pm 
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Merchant
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Location: New Orleans
I had been living with Six for a couple months and somehow managed to dodge all suspicion. I had learned nearly everything about everyday life, and was going through it pretty normally—as normally as any person without a legal identity could. I went everywhere with Six, and no one asked any questions. Except Six himself. He wanted to know about how I lived almost as much as I wanted to know about where he lived.

“Do you believe in God?” he asked me one day, seemingly on a whim.

“I suppose so,” I said, thinking about how, at home, we’d go to church every Sunday. I hadn’t thought much about it since leaving. “Why?”

“Well,” he said, “Not very many people do. I mean, I don’t, more overly because I just don’t really understand it. I mean, I’ve studied religious histories and such, but never have I really practiced anything.”

We were walking down an abandoned street; not many people walked. Most of the traffic, I learned, was by motors, which were something like hovering bikes. Once of a certain age, a person was tested and then, if succeeding, granted one of these motors. Six had a motor, he just chose not to use it. He preferred to walk, which made it easier for the two of us to travel. Motors can only seat one person, and I had asked how people transported their children.

“They walk,” he told me, and I recalled the little girl I had met on the first day of my travels. “And if a child gets lost or does not reach their destination, that’s where the HI/Ts come in.” He looked at me. “What does this have to do with God?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just thinking.” We walked a bit further in silence. I wasn’t sure where we were going, and I was pretty sure that Six was just aimlessly walking. That’s what he tended to do every day, all day. “Hey, do you think that there’d be any way for me to get a HI/T? I mean, if I explained my situation, don’t you think they’d understand?”

“You know that your village is generally frowned upon, right?” he asked me. I didn’t understand. “It’s kind of a big joke. Why would anyone want to reject this society and live so…‘primitively’? Haven’t you ever thought about that?” He had stopped walking and was looking at me, his face almost regretful.

“Well, I guess I had,” I said, looking at the ground. “I mean, I left because I wanted to see what I was really missing; kind of to understand why it is my family has continued to live the way they had for generations. I don’t really get it…”

“You don’t?” he asked, starting to walk again. “I do.”

For the first time since I had met him, I sensed a sort of jealousy in Six’s voice. He had always seemed so nonchalant about everything, but it was then that I saw that, really, the only reason he was keeping me around was so that maybe I’d take him back to where I was from, and that he could live that way.

“Why are you keeping me around?” I asked, catching up to him. “You’ve risked so much by letting me stay with you. One person finds out, and we’re both done for. What are you getting out of this?”

“I’m sure you already know.” He kept walking.

“No,” I said, “There is no way that I’m taking you back there with me. Because, you know what? There is no way that I’m even going to go back!”

Six just shrugged. “I guess that’s true. Oh, well.”

He had retreated into his laid back ways, and that frustrated me. Suddenly, I thought about Four again. She was probably only six years old. What I wouldn’t give to be able to take her home with me, and give her a “normal” life.

“When do women become breeders?” I asked.

“You have an interesting train of thought today,” he commented. “Normally when they’re twelve or thirteen. You know, once they’ve achieved puberty.”

“What is it like, do you know? Being a breeder?”

“I can’t say for sure,” he said, entering a shop. “I hear it’s not bad. Really, you live somewhere where you’re always taken care of, they impregnate you, you have babies, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Is that why no one fights it?” I watched him as he looked through things on shelves. It was an antique store, though many of the items in there could be found in my house at home.

“No one really fights for anything.”

“Are you all brainwashed?” I furrowed my brow, peering at him. He looked up from his knick knacks and laughed a bit.

“That’s an odd way to put it, but I’m sure it’s possible. I guess no one really has any reason to fight. Everyone is happy enough that they all just keep living their lives.” He went back to the objects in the hands.

“What about you?” I asked, “Are you happy?”

“Happy enough. I’ve got the numbers. I do practically what I want, when I want. I don’t really see how life could be any better.” He shrugged, placing the item back on the shelf and moving to a different aisle.

“Don’t you want anything more?” He shook he head. “You don’t want a girlfriend? A job? An actual life?” He continued to shake his head, and I’m sure he could tell that I was getting frustrated.

“You can’t really miss what you’ve never had,” he said.

I sighed, saying, “Ignorance is bliss…”

We left the store, Six having bought an old pair of sunglasses and a map, which he had rolled up under his arm.

“What would you do,” he started, “If it turned out I was a police officer?”

“Well,” I said, “First I’d have to think what an awful cop you are for letting me get away with living, and then I’d probably think, ‘Well, this sucks. I’m completely [censored], now,’ and then try to run for it. Why?”

“Just curious,” he said. I watched as he thought for a minute. “Though I think you’d actually be useful to any police force.”

“How so?” I looked at him as we walked.

“Well, you could go anywhere undetected. You’re not a person without a HI/T, really. You’re intelligent, as far as I can tell, and, well, you’ve managed to go this long without being caught.”

“Well, that’s mostly thanks to you,” I said, trying to be humble. “I would have had no chance had I not met you in that bar.”

“I’m sure you’d have found some other sympathetic chum to help you out,” he admitted, shrugging. We were back at his home, and he led the way upstairs, as usual.

--

At night, we took turns for who was on the bed and who was on the floor. That night, it was my turn for the floor. I lay at the foot of the bed, listening to Six’s soft breathing, and just thinking. It had been a while since I had thought about God, and I found myself half praying. I never really thought much of it before, about my faith, that is. Sometimes it just seemed so bizarre to think that there was this… sanctity.

I sighed and rolled over, realizing how much I preferred the hard floor to the overly-soft bed. I quietly thanked God for helping me since I left home, and I prayed that he continue to protect me, and that he would help Six stay safe, as well; maybe even allow Six to feel some sort of faith. Before I ended my little prayer session, though, I asked God to watch over Four, too, and that being a breeder wasn’t so bad, like Six was saying.

Then I had to laugh at myself. Who was I kidding?

I heard Six stir, and I sat up. He sat up, as well.

“Why are you awake?” he asked, turning a light on.

I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, I guess. Just thinking.”

“Oh.” He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” he said, grabbed his jacket, and left.

--

I didn’t see Six again after that. I wondered if maybe it was something that I had said to him that day. I spent hours going over in my head what it was that we had talked about, and nowhere could I pinpoint what possibly could have gone wrong.

I was afraid to leave his home, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back in. After a couple days, and no sign of him, though, I had to leave. With nowhere to go, no numbers, and not even an identity, I went out into the city.

Garretsburg was an interesting city, once I was finally alone to look at it. Most of the streets, filled with passing motors, were completely covered by buildings. It’s like the whole world was underground, and only infrequent holes of sunlight drifted through to the streets.

There were a couple gardens and parks here and there, built under buildings and closed-off from the sun. I paused by one such park and entered its front gates. There were odd statues that somehow resembled the human body, but at the same time, were extremely abstract. I sat down on a bench, and watched as fathers passed by with their children. I found myself wondering about their lives; what numbers they had, if they’d grow up to be breeders, if their fathers were cops.

For the first time, I saw a couple walk by. They appeared young, not too much older than I was. The girl was carrying a baby. That baby must have a name. A real name. Lucky child, I thought, To have a name, and a future…

I laughed at this thought.

“I should be lucky, theoretically,” I said, quietly to myself, “I have a name. And I have a future… But I lack an identity. Oh, the irony.”

Minutes passed and I watched more people walk by. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since I first sat down.

“Excuse me, sir?” I looked up, startled. There was a frazzled-looking man standing in front of me. “I’m with the Garretsburg Human Police Force.” I felt my panic level rising. “Have you seen this man?” He handed me a picture.

“Six,” I said to myself. “Well, yeah,” I said, feeling a bit relieved that I wasn’t in trouble. “I liv—err… Well, I was friends with him, I guess you could call us.”

“He’s missing,” he stated. “When was the last time you saw him?”

I thought back to how many days it had been since I saw him. “It was a couple nights ago, outside his apartment…” An obvious question then struck me. “Can’t you just track his HI/T?” I asked. The officer shook his head.

“We did, and we found it… Appears as though he’s cut it out of his own body.” I put my hand on the back of my neck, as if I had a HI/T there.

“Wow…” I honestly never thought that he’d do that, just for a chance to live differently. “Is there no other way to find him?”

“We’re doing it the old-fashioned way,” he said with a slight chuckle.

I sat there for a moment, thinking about this. I wondered where he thought he’d go. How far would he get without his HI/T and his MPC now unusable? “What will happen when you find him?” I asked, wondering if the same fate would befall him as would happen to me if I were to be caught.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “I’m really just a lowly officer, they don’t tell me much.”

“Oh.” I finally handed the picture back to him.

“Thank you for your help, though,” he said, putting the picture back into his pocket and pulling out an MPC and some sort of device. “Let me pay you for your time.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I said, standing up and looking rushed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, really, just a few numbers. It’s the least I can do.” He reached towards me and I backed away.

“There’s somewhere I must be,” I said, turning from him and starting to walk away.

“I can give you a lift instead?” he offered, pursuing me.

“No thanks!” I hollered, and started to jog, leaving the officer slightly bewildered. “Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all,” I said to myself once I was far enough away. I had slowed to a walk and was once again out on the streets.

There was a strange noise coming from behind me, and I turned over my shoulder to look. “What the hell is that?” I asked myself as a fairly large pod sped down the road toward me.

“Don’t move,” came a voice from it. “You are a suspicious being.”

“[censored].”

And I ran.


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 Post subject: Part Three
PostPosted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 12:28 pm 
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Merchant
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Posts: 183
Location: New Orleans
I had always thought that I had been on pretty decent shape, but I still knew that I couldn’t run forever. I could hear the police pod chasing me, and I found myself wondering how it hadn’t yet caught me. I dodged into a tight alley, and the pod was too wide to follow. Despite my small feeling of safety, I kept running. I emerged onto another street, and I paused for a moment. There was a patch of sky showing through the ceiling made of the buildings.

I heard the pod approaching from around the block.

There was a young woman nearby, and I jogged over to her.

“Please, miss, help me,” I said, trying not to sound too winded.

“What do you need?” she asked, “I can provide any service that you desire.”

“Come here.” I pulled her into a different alley, and suddenly felt very awkward. “You’re a prostitute, aren’t you?”

“I’m no breeder.”

“Well,” I said, “I don’t want sex. Well, I do, in general, but not right now. You see, I’m a highly illegal person, and the cops are after me, and I need to get away.”

“Whoa,” she said, “Whoa. I don’t want to get caught up with the law, okay? I’m not going to help you.”

“Please,” I begged, “You’ve got to understand. I come from this town where we don’t live like people do here. We don’t have any… Any HI/Ts… or motors or MPCs or… or anything. Please help me.”

“Well, my advice would be to go back to where you came from,” she told me.

“But that’s all the way down in Florida.” I was practically on my hands and knees.

“Well, you’re pretty much [censored], then,” she said.

“Yes, that seems to be a fairly common trend with me lately,” I said. “Can’t you at least get me away from that…that pod thing? That’s all. I should be okay after that.”

“No,” she said, and walked back out onto the street.

I stood there for a moment, feeling myself become more and more panicked as the seconds ticked by.

“Hey, hey, you.”

The hushed voice startled me, and I must have jumped ten feet in the air. I looked around, my heart racing in my chest.

“W-who said that?” I asked, looking around madly. “Who’s there?”

“Down here,” the voice said. I looked down, and there was a grate at the bottom of the building; a face was slightly illuminated. I bent over and situated myself on my knees, peering into the hole. “You’re running from them, too, aren’t you?” the voice asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “Are you willing to help me?” The pod had already passed the alley, but I heard more coming from different directions. “Please say you are.”

“Come down here,” it said, and the light faded. The grate moved back, suddenly, and a hand ushered me to go down. I looked around quickly, feeling suddenly self-conscious, and went, feet first, into the hole.

I landed on a hard, metallic floor and looked around. It appeared as though the whole room in which we stood was made from some sleek, shining material, almost like stainless steel, which had been outdated for a few centuries, now.

“Who are you?” I asked after having taken in where I was. I looked at my new ally, and was surprised to see that it was a girl.

“My name is Jasmine Yates,” she said, offering a hand. I shook it, a confused look on my face.

“You have a name,” I stated.

“Well, yeah,” she said, “Everyone has a name. It’s not my real name, though. I was Fourteen Darles.”

“Were you a breeder?” She nodded and looked down. “Oh. How have they not found you?” She turned around and lifted her long, brown hair, revealing the spot where her HI/T had been removed, leaving a large, dimpled scar. “Looks like it was painful.”

“Have you had yours removed?” she asked.

I shook my head, saying, “I’ve never even had one, that’s why I’m running.”

“Oh?” she said, “Are… are you Ashby?” I nodded. “I met your friend, and I helped him remove his HI/T. I promised that if I met you, I’d help you in any way I could.”

I suddenly had a very strange feeling come over me. “You helped him? Where is he going? How is he getting there? What was he thinking? How far has he gotten?”

“Whoa, calm down,” Jasmine said, “He said he’s going to find a nice place to live, where the government won’t be able to find him, and he can be alone. He didn’t say where.” I obviously looked upset, because she said, “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. Oh, but he did want me to tell you that he was sorry for leaving like he did, or whatever. He didn’t tell me anything else, but said that you’d understand.” I nodded. “I bet he’d be glad to know that nothing’s happened to you.”

There was a moment of awkward silence where we just looked at each other. “Where are we?” I asked.

“This is where I lived. It’s just an unused basement of an old office building. I’ve been down here for a couple years, now. All the runaways and anarchists and what not know to find me here, I guess that’s why I haven’t run any farther.” She shrugged.

“Oh.”

“What’s that on your leg?” she asked. I looked down, examining the back of my calf where she was pointing. My pants were stained as though blood had seeped through.

“What the hell?” I said, “I didn’t even feel anything!”

She bent down and pulled up the pant leg, inspecting the small wound.

“[censored],” she said.

“What is it?” I tried to turn myself to get a better look.

“[censored],” she repeated, “They know where you are.”

“What? How?!”

“It’s a temporary tracking system,” she said, standing back up, “They must’ve shot you with it when they first started following you. [censored].”

“Stop saying that!” I said, “It makes me nervous!”

“I’m sorry, but you have to get out of here. I said that I’d help you, but if it risks getting me caught, then I’m kicking you out.” She was shoving me back towards the grate from which I entered.

“Why? You can’t just kick me out and leave me to fend for myself!” I complained, fighting half-heartedly. I knew that, really, there was no way I was going to convince her to let me stay. I understood why she couldn’t have me there, and I eventually let myself out through the grate.

“Good luck,” she said, and closed the entrance.

“Thanks…” The sirens were just outside the alley, and I decided that it would be best to just go quietly. I had nowhere to run; they could trace me anywhere, and I don’t even think that I would have been able to get out of the city, let alone back down to Florida.

I walked out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. There were four pods waiting there in a semicircle.

“Don’t move,” they all said in unison, “You are a suspicious being.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I know.”


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PostPosted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 1:28 pm 
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wow its a really good story! post more :P
I like the story. Is that the end of what you wrote or is there more?


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PostPosted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 2:56 pm 
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Thank you~

Yeah, it's the end of the story. I do intend on writing more based in the same place, just with different characters. This is sort of an intro, since it describes a lot of how things work; HI/Ts, MPCs, breeders, etc. After reading this, I feel like someone could read something similar without all the explanations and be okay. ^_^


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PostPosted: Mon Oct 06, 2008 11:52 pm 
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Jonesu wrote:
Thank you~

Yeah, it's the end of the story. I do intend on writing more based in the same place, just with different characters. This is sort of an intro, since it describes a lot of how things work; HI/Ts, MPCs, breeders, etc. After reading this, I feel like someone could read something similar without all the explanations and be okay. ^_^


haha nice! yea i hate how it ended on a cliff hanger like that but if your gonna do more sometime then awesome! Can't wait for more :) *curses at cliff hanger more* WHAT HAPPENES TO HIM! XD


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PostPosted: Tue Oct 07, 2008 8:03 am 
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Well, what happens is simple... They die. :D


Oh, the morbidity! ^_^


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PostPosted: Tue Oct 07, 2008 9:01 am 
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Jonesu wrote:
Well, what happens is simple... They die. :D


Oh, the morbidity! ^_^



And they all died happy ever after! The End.
XD

it was a good story...just the EVIL cliff hanger...on his death or whatever happenes.... XD


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PostPosted: Tue Oct 07, 2008 5:43 pm 
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I like to leave endings open and vague... >_>'


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PostPosted: Tue Oct 07, 2008 11:00 pm 
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Jonesu wrote:
I like to leave endings open and vague... >_>'


haha but vauge...leaves questions...its like movies...where they end it and its like...WHAT NOT NOW!?! WHAT HAPPENS!? or TV...lost does that lots...i hate when lost does that


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PostPosted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 12:01 pm 
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omg, I love Lost. XDD Maybe that's why?

I've got a thing for leaving people in suspence. dX And I guess I like being left in suspence, too? I dunno, I just like thinking about the possibilities. d:

I just spent a good part of last night watching Lost with a friend who had never seen it before. :3 Luckily, he had seen the pilot, so I didn't have to watch parts 1 and 2 again... -_-' I've seen those more than I'd care to... XD

But that's way off topic... >_>


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PostPosted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 12:40 pm 
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Jonesu wrote:
omg, I love Lost. XDD Maybe that's why?

I've got a thing for leaving people in suspence. dX And I guess I like being left in suspence, too? I dunno, I just like thinking about the possibilities. d:

I just spent a good part of last night watching Lost with a friend who had never seen it before. :3 Luckily, he had seen the pilot, so I didn't have to watch parts 1 and 2 again... -_-' I've seen those more than I'd care to... XD

But that's way off topic... >_>


bahaha yea lost is my favorate show...i hate when they end it on cliff hangers...like your story...its like RAGH! NOOO TELL ME NAO WHAT HAPPENS! and i get frusterated with it and go grah. XD


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PostPosted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 6:24 pm 
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lol~ I LIKE TO MAKE YOU GO GRAH. >D

If you get to an obnoxious cliffhanger like that, just imagine what could possibly happen next. Then split yourself into, like, five parts and take bets. Whichever possible outcome is closest wins! :D


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PostPosted: Wed Oct 08, 2008 6:42 pm 
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Suspense O_O


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