[CYBORGEOUS] #1. (New Teen Fiction/ Drama, SciFi Novella)

WARNING! This story is written in the style of Teen Fiction, and as such uses profanity, violence.. etc. If you don't like that sort of thing... give this a pass.

[CYBORGEOUS] 

ONE OFF: #1: The Eris Named Ankaa 

The loss of our lives would reverse the fate of so many others. That was the sole purpose of the project. That's what we were told, at least. Now, with the pretenses proven false, our parents' naivety seems all the clearer. Or was it greed? My mother and father, like those of the others, were given the ultimate choice. Asked to sacrifice their first born's for the betterment of the human race. N.U.-U.-Corp, placing themselves in the place of God himself-- echoing his harsh demands upon Issac. Yet the demands weren't all too harsh... Well, for them. Our parents donated their walking, bald corpses for the "cause." That cause being an undisclosed amount of cash. None of us knew what price our respective sets of parental units paid, but it didn't matter. To a true parent, the life of their child is off the table. Non-negotiable.

At first, I told myself they did it for genuine reasons... The amount of time I had left versus the cost of keeping me alive wasn't a fair figure. I even believed the delusion that they were genuinely interested in curing the world of my fatal ailment... But that died away. Along with the rest of my innocence... and my compassion. In the end, I fostered my hatred for them, just as I was expected to. Harvesting my spite as inspiration.  

But I suppose I should be less vague... Who am I? What did they do to me? What am I now? What became of me, and how did I get fucking even? All good questions, and ones I intend to answer. Honestly, I'm not sure where to begin...

Hmm.

Ah, I guess I'll begin there... It's a decent starting point.



Hold on, let me transfer the memory.




INITIATING MEMORY BANK UPLOAD: DATA FILE 546456007213.

...

LOADING... 100%.


DISPLAYING MEMORY:

...

CLICK BELOW TO PROCEED

The Final Stage of Human Evolution

You can learn far more from the internet than you could from any school. Then again, the internet stores that information for us... infinitely and indefinitely, so what purpose do we have for learning? I suppose in the future, when the human mind is officially linked up with its ever-growing digital cloud of information (i.e. the world wide web) there will be none. Only the application.




It's my understanding that intellect has often been measured in one's retention and memorization at entry level education, with critical and creative problem solving pushed to the advanced classes-- ones which a large chunk of the population are denied participation in. If the future indeed features an all-knowing humanity, eliminated of the need to actively retain or seek out data... then we truly are standing at the precipice of our race's ultimate, and perhaps final stage in evolution.

With all the truths reaped from mankind's existence readily available at our fingertips, we have become our own gods-- omniscient. The efficiency and innovation will increase at an exponential rate. Hypergrowth, a technological leap of currently unfathomable heights.

We will become immortal within this very century, mark my words. Evolution is all but certain, but the cost is still beyond my scope. Can a world of gods thrive? Or will we be consumed by our own ingenuity? As humanity's darkness, its evil... a force not to be underestimated, especially when amplified by this forthcoming evolution.

Needless to say, these are the kinds of things that concern me, and lately I've been left wondering if others ponder such things as well. What say you, my readers?

What is your vision of the future, and where shall you fall in it?

Back in Action

Sorry for the long wait, I'm going to be resuming the blog! I needed time off to focus on my book and clear my head. (Not to mention deal with a pesky plagiarizer!) Look forward to more of the same and the introduction of the new. Hope you didn't forget about me, and I can't wait to write more for you!

- B

"The feel of fate against my cheeks."

I can taste my dreams. The flavor is success and it's incompatible. Impeccable and inspiring. I'm in awe of my fate transpiring.

I like

Feel it

in my bones my brain and my soul... whatever that is

It's that universal oneness

Purpose

Reason

Fate

And our means to an end

This life, while good, is the calm before the storm

and only through my hardest work can I ride the winds

Live in my beautiful tornado that is my passion

With you, or without my heart.

No option but writing

No other choice but you

Nothing exists but this

and your kiss

as far as I'm concerned

REVISED UPDATE SCHEDULE

This is a notice of a break, in which I will be putting my blog on pause to devote 100% of my attention to finishing the FINAL rewrite of The Bard. I'm hoping to be done by the end of July or the middle of August! That is my personal deadline. I will be posting chapters now and again, so please subscribe via e-mail. I'm going to try to post a new entry every WEDNESDAY.

I feel this will take some of the pressure off me and allow me to better focus on the one project I should have been giving my absolute focus for quite some time now. As always, I thank you so much for sticking with me and being such amazing readers. When it comes to writing, I tend to treat what I want to write like an all you can eat buffet... overfilling my plate with so many delicious things that I can't finish any of them! I suppose pacing myself is the key... it's just hard when there are so many awesome stories I want to write! Aye, my head is a cluttered place!


Thanks again,


Bradley Bechtle  

MUSIC PROMPT FICTION #2: Frédéric Chopin

MUSIC INSPIRED BY:

Frédéric Chopin - Prelude in E-Minor (op.28 no. 4)

"CHECKMATE"

It had only taken me but a moment to realize the state of affairs. The years of affection, the toil, pain and sacrifice-- all a miserable joke. My charade, the secret life of sin and assorted debauchery I'd hid for so long... nothing but a cough at a concert. She heard them all along. The moans... The rustling of sheets... All trifles to her. My perceived cunning had been nothing more than an illusion  brought on by her feigned ignorance. Yes, it was she... not I who truly was the deceiver. My queen. Oh, my precious queen... Oh how I pampered thee. If only as a bribe... but still. How could you do this to me? How could you do this to your country? Though I suppose I must come to terms now with the fact that it was never your country at all. The land you loved through your teeth-- the land you sold into slavery. Our land... our daughter's land... my land.

Lesser men than I oft divorce or dispose of their wives when the marriage ship starts to hit the rocks. Alas, I'd have been better off a lesser man, cursed by my own desire for integrity. How I envy the rabble! What ease, to live as  a rapscallion, undaunted by public scorn-- with a pride so besmirched a stain blends rather than stands out. I wish it was in my character to bail out and seek safe harbor like cowardly deserting pirates with not an ounce of loyalty. After all, I'd always believed that a captain ought go down with his ship and commanded such behavior from the admirals of my Navy. 

Was I a bad king or a bad husband? I ask myself such futile questions as these as I toss and turn in my cell. Trivial. Trivial in the fact that their answers matter not as my wife's powers of deception were so masterful that even the world's greatest tactician could not have seen through her plan. I'd selected my mate for her beauty with her high learning as an afterthought. Who would have thought that her thoughts were after my crown. My late father had advised me against allowing a woman a choice and the danger of providing them with books and education. At the time I found his warning to be senility induced ramblings, the nonsense spouted at the deathbed by a dying sovereign in a last ditch effort to preserve the ways of his era. I see now that they were sage. Lethally true. 

She never loved me. 

NEVER.

Me. A king. A man with limitless power and prestige. 

Such an unforgivable betrayal! Sure, it is true I never felt a thing for her, but that is not to be expected of me. Her grace is my embrace. The only sight upon which she sets her horizon is my glorious hand. The hand bearing the ring she shares. The ring she kissed loyally in front of my entire court. Or as loyal as she allowed it to seem... as it is now known that she had been a spy from the kingdom of Gamalur-- a land decimated and destroyed by my father. What loyalty is that, anyway?  With her entire country dead, why would she still operate for its favor. Those fake tears... I am the one who deserves to cry. My bloodline now ends with me. The storied history of my family's monarchy, a brilliant book hundreds of years in the making., sees it's final chapter. Yes, my people called my grandfather a tyrant unfit to inherit his father's crown. True, my father and I continued down his path of firm rule with an emphasis on building our wealth. But they did not see the end goal! Their rebellion snuffed my candle before I could reach the top of the tower where they could finally see the great heights all the harsh steps we were taking lead. They dared criticized a plan before its results were in!? TRULY. She betrayed the entire country, no the ultimate fate of the world, by betraying me.

That is what you did not see. No one saw it. That was my plan. I had to bleed the people dry to amass funds in my war chest. Our military was on its way to becoming an unstoppable army. In a mere decade or two, we would have had the power to obliterate and enslave all the other kingdoms. If my people trusted in my power rather than her so-called 'wit'  they would have lived to see the day when we made foreigners slaves instead of them. They would have been able to live the life of ease and luxury they so foolishly chastised my family for living. Oh, such is my curse... to be born with great misfortune. My ill luck fated me to be in charge of such an ignorant and selfish lot. They never deserved my family. We should have completely stripped away all their freedom years ago. But no, my kindness got the best of me again. I foolishly allowed them to work for me and die for me in the way they saw fit... in their own homes with their own families.  They will see that life won't be so simple with me gone.

I do not care that I am to be beheaded tomorrow, as I would have committed suicide out of spite anyway. I've done the Lord's work, I shall be seeing him shortly. They call me an arrogant narcissist... but they can have their dumb opinions-- I never cared for them. I do not fear death. I look forward to seeing God. It will be nice to speak with an equal for once.

The Bard: Track 5 (Preview)

The final chapter in the five part preview for The Bard!

CLICK BELOW FOR PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS

TRACK 1: The Lost Love Song

TRACK 2: The Human Fly

TRACK 3: The Hallowed Halls

TRACK 4: The Lion and the Panther

Track 5: The Accompaniment

 The bards will sing a song for all the ages

Truth in a hymnal’s pages

The sound the Fly sought

Surely now, the Mouse shall be caught

A pair of suede Dockers clacked excitedly across the over-waxed floors that paved the interior of the NYPD’s Manhattan headquarters, accompanied by chipper humming. Something had changed in Detective Edison Locard’s attire. It was not the clothes he wore—still plainclothes and a tan overcoat as always—  but the expression on his face. For the first time in ages, a genuine smile hung itself above the unkempt tuft of blonde hanging from Edison’s chin.

“What’s gotten into you, Locard?” an officer asked as the blonde detective whizzed by.

“Nothing,” Ed replied. “Just got a good song stuck in my head.”

The merry detective shuffled into his superior’s office, kicking his feet in a dancing manner.  

“Good morning, Joy,” he said with a smile.

“That’s debatable,” muttered the Chief of Detectives’ apathetic secretary, her face practically pressed to her computer monitor.

Edison leaned on secretary’s desk, raising his eyebrows and grinning expectantly. Joy grunted, wrinkling her forehead.

“What do I have to do to get your attention? Poke you on Facebook?”

Joy let out a sigh of derision, too apathetic to retort. Noticing the woman’s bloodshot eyes and the tiny flask sitting beside her coffee mug, Ed surmised the alcoholic had been skipping out on her court mandated

“What does it take to get you to do your job? Beating your highscore on Bejeweled Blitz?” 

“I play Candy Crush Saga now, dumbass,” Joy grumbled.

“How foolish of me,” Edison said, rolling his eyes.

“So you want me to tell Harry you need to see him?”  

“If it doesn’t put you out too much.”

“Too bad,” Joy sneered, obnoxiously chewing her gum. “Harry’s not in this office. Why don’t you follow his lead?”

Forty-six and still unmarried, the only man Joy seemed to be able to keep a steady relationship with was Sam Adams. Unable to cope with the stress that comes along with the badge, countless cops fell prey to alcoholism. This factor did not apply to Joy’s case however, as the greatest danger she faced in the line of duty was accidently pricking her finger on a freshly sharpened pencil.