Alive

[McC]

Being a mod and all, I figured it was high-time I posted something. This is the 'prologue' to a story I'm working on. The story is for a science-fiction literature class. It's divided into two parts: 'prologue' and 'dialogue'. Prologue sets the stage for the main events of the story, found in Dialogue. This is just the first draft. I need to make it flow a bit more easily. Right now, it jumps from the Net to the history of the world, which annoys me.

ALIVE


by Ryan McClure


PROLOGUE

It is said that the power to govern is derived from the consent of the governed. What, then, happens when the governors unwittingly become the governed?

This is, after all, precisely what transpired. As the power and reach of free-market corporations grew beyond global proportions, the seemingly petty squabbles between nations, religions, and moral beliefs were cast into the oblivion euphemistically referred to as history. With the disappearance of governments, new nations arose, now defined by names like Sun, ORACLE, IBM, and Microsoft. War was reinvented. The Corporations took the place of the Nations in terms of issues of global importance. And the Net took its place as a staple of society.

It was the Net that made everything possible. Vast quantities of data could be moved at light speed from one point on the globe to another, thanks to the Net. The Net’s microwave transmitters had replaced the optical fibers of the Internet age. Personal Computers were all the size of small notebooks and each had tremendous capacity compared to the standards of the early 21st century. Each of these could easily log into the Net and display anything a user desired. Some, of course, preferred a more direct approach--neural interface. With a simple jack and a neural data port, one’s entire consciousness could ride cyberspace on an electromagnetic wave.

All was well, at least at first. We knew it wouldn’t last.

Without the moderation of governments to control the Corporations, the Stock Markets became the only moderators. Whatever actions were necessary to increase stock values were taken. Some suffered, namely employees. Most, however, prospered. During the beginning of what was known as the Intelligence Age, the economic underclass was eliminated--no one was poor anymore. The common man thrived. Work was plentiful.

But like all preceding utopias, an end had to come to this one too. They say history repeats itself. It did. When stocks began to stagnate or even fall, the Corporations began to lay off not thousands but millions of workers. In the space of a mere two years, the top thirty percent of society had risen higher and the bottom seventy--us--had re-invented the poor economic class. We were “ashes” to the economic elite--fallen, discarded embers and remnants of what once thrived.

To maintain their hold, the Corporations introduced into society their robotic military weapons, which quickly became known as Sentries: towering, ten-foot tall monsters armed with a tremendous capacity for death. The Sentries became the police force of our world, installing extreme curfews that, if broken, met with instant death.

The Corporations had, they believed, ensured their hold on society. They didn’t count on the creation of the Knights. There were a select few among us, products of the mass layoff period, who knew the inner workings of the Corporations’ high-security computer systems. They began to fight back in the only way they could--through the Net. Doing what little they could against the tremendous security protocols of the Corporations, the Knights quickly became the Robin Hood-like heroes of the ashes.

The Sentries began to hunt them.

Amidst the raids of the Knights and the oppression of the Corporations, a single goal was on everyone’s mind, ash and corporate alike: create artificial intelligence. With an artificial intelligence--human intuition and understanding coupled with cybernetic speed--the Corporate mainframes could be brought down or forever secured. It was only a matter of time before one side would achieve their goals.

The question was, which one?

[Proximo]

Oooh... actually it seems to flow quite well. Not many people can cover a huge stretch of histiry in so few words as this. ;) At leeast, not without sounding hackneyed and clichéd...

Do we get to see the rest or is that top secret? :)

[McC]

Nope, not secret, just not presentable yet. I need to finish the 'segment' I'm on before I post it.

As to the flow, I'm probably going to jiggle around the first three paragraphs. They don't fit with the rest. I'll probably place them somewhere at the end or some such.

[chrono]

It maybe just me, but that reads rather dryly. Like some of the history's in pencil and paper RPG's. It really does not 'hook me' like a prologue should. It's all in too vag. No 'soul' to it. Nothing to 'care' about. No 'hook' beyond descriptions of perceived reality, items and events.

Your are right it does seem to jump around abit. The first 4 paragraphs work well together, but seem to clash with the next ones.

[McC]

It needs revision ;) I'm going to re-write it with the same concepts, but more interesting wording.

[McC]

Okay, it's shorter, but conveys more of the general information I need to get across to set-up the story. Better?

[chrono]

It is said that the power to govern is derived from the consent of the governed. What, then, happens when the governors unwittingly become the governed?

This is, after all, precisely what transpired. As the power and reach of free-market corporations grew beyond global proportions, the seemingly petty squabbles between nations, religions, and moral beliefs were cast into the oblivion euphemistically referred to as history. With the disappearance of governments, new nations arose, now defined by names like Sun, ORACLE, IBM, and Microsoft. War was reinvented. The Corporations took the place of the Nations in terms of issues of global importance. And the Net took its place as a staple of society.


***How you don't mind. But this just 'felt' like a better structure. The first 2 sentences make up a great 'hook'.***


All was well, at least at first.

***I think this would be a good place to mention "ashes" or a personality behind the prologue. Something like {{"We" knew better though}} or something similiar. Adds a non-historical(dry) perspective.***


Amidst the raids of the Knights and the oppression of the Corporations, a single goal was on everyone’s mind, ash and corporate alike: create artificial intelligence. With an artificial intelligence--human intuition and understanding coupled with cybernetic speed, the Corporate mainframes could be brought down or forever secured. It was only a matter of time before one side would achieve their goals.

The question was..... which one?


***Again I hope you don't mind.***

The rewrite is pretty good. MUCH improved over the first. Really a smoother prologue that DOES hook a reader. It's a little 'flat' in deliever though. No soul or 'individual' perspective to it beyond dry historical facts.

[Proximo]

Sometimes that works... ;) but otherwise, I'd agree, There needs to be something that acts as a hook and draws the reader in a little more. If you include mention of some emotive event real or imagine that might get a reaction, that could help.

[General Phoenix]

Imagine yourself with a couple of drinks in you, telling a buddy your short version of history. :) Make it sound more like the narrative of someone who witnessed it all, and it will grab the reader a little more.

However, what you've got is much better than the first draft. Keep it up!

[McC]

Okay, I tweaked it a bit. Changed some of "the ashes" to "we" and such. Didn't quite make it as informal as you suggested, GP, because that would require a complete re-write, methinks ;)

How's it look?

BTW, I really appreciate the feedback! Since this is effectively going to be my largest grade for this class, I definitely want to deliver as good a performance as possible. Having three good editors on my side certainly helps a lot :)

[Proximo]

Now it's nice. :)

[McC]

1

Even with heavy steel-plate armor, Sentries couldn’t stand up to sustained fire from a 30mm assault rifle. Against the five now unleashing a torrent of depleted uranium into the tight hallway, no Sentry could have stood.

There were, however, six Sentries in this particular hallway.

Seeking cover behind doors, containers, and various other obstructions, Knight and Sentry alike maintained such an enormous volley of fire that an attempt to charge the other’s position would convert machine or man into Swiss. Instead, both sides were content to shoot uselessly at one another.

This particular ambush, sprung by the Sentries, was the result of sloppy hacking on the part of the Knights. While breaking into a fairly low-security Corporate facility was admirable, getting inside the Corporate mainframe was an entirely different story. No human, so far, had really been able to do it with any effectiveness. Instead, the Knights accepted accessing low-security systems and generally annoying the hell out of the Corporates. They could usually get to an access point, into the system, work their magic, get out of the system, and fade away before Sentries showed up.

They had been spotted getting into the system this time.

Now, they were trapped deep within Corporate territory, pinned by Sentries and rapidly running out of ammunition.

“Remind me again whose idea it was to invent these things!” Slim shouted over the raucous noise of the assault rifles. Slim wasn’t his real name, of course, but it was the name by which everyone referred to him. He also fit the name fairly well, being the slightest-framed of all the Knights. He had almost cherub-like features, despite the distinct lack of meat on his bones. All in all, he didn’t look like a warrior.

“Corporates,” Blake replied. “Now shut up and keep shooting.” Blake was the most gung-ho of the group. A complete contrast to Slim, Blake was dense, scruffy, and angular. He never backed down from a fight, although he maintained clarity of thought and purpose under extreme duress.

The other three in the group were Conor, Bore, and Fencer. Bore and Fencer, like Slim, had adopted different names for themselves. Fencer was larger and more imposing than Blake, if that were possible. He had long, unkempt hair that framed a soft face that almost didn’t seem to fit with the seemingly invincible body it was connected to. Bore was small, like Slim, but could still be imposing if he chose to. Bore distinguished himself through his dexterity and flexibility. Few could squeeze into the places he could or avoid the dangers that he leapt around.

Conor was a curious blend. He was taller than Blake and only slightly less solid. He had Blake’s scruffy features, but Bore’s nimble dexterity. Conor was the best hacker among the Knights represented, Bore second to him. And it was Conor’s fault that the Sentries were here now.
None of his compatriots blamed him, though. Any of them could have made a similar, perhaps more grievous error. They were lucky to be facing only six Sentries instead of a dozen.

“I’m out!” he yelled suddenly. At the same time, Bore’s gun went silent as well. Calculating incorrectly, one of the Sentries floated out from behind its cover. It quickly found itself on the floor and full of holes, its hovering mechanisms shattered by the rain of bullets.

Blake got a look in his eye that all of them knew too well. “I call upon you to surrender!” he shouted at the Sentries. They wouldn’t, of course, nor could they if they had wanted to. Sentries had neither the ability to speak nor the capacity for speech.

“Never works,” Fencer muttered. His gun suddenly went dry as well. Fencer, however, didn’t believe in losing. He placed the gun down, reached behind his back, and pulled out a pump-action shotgun. Its resounding booms were added to the rapid chattering of the assault rifles. Soon, though, the remaining rifles went silent as well.

Tentatively, the Sentries poked their hooded red eyes out from behind cover. They began to creep out. When they met no resistance, they came out fully and began floating towards the hapless Knights.

“Well guys,” Slim whispered. “Been nice working with you.”

“See you on the other side,” Bore nodded.

“I’m not through yet!” Blake declared. Fencer clamped a hand on his shoulder before the fearless warrior could rise, which in all likelihood saved his life.

No one noticed Conor.

Suddenly, a ball of fire erupted behind the encroaching Sentries. The shockwave shook them up and through their floating forms off balance. By the time they turned to react, it was too late.

Watching in complete shock and amazement, the Knights couldn’t help but grin as the Sentries exploded one-by-one. At the far end of the hallway, having blown a hole in the wall for herself, was Kerrigan.

By far the shortest of the six Knights there, Kerrigan was also distinctively female. She had full lips, dark hair, dark eyes, and a figure that looked as if it had been perfectly carved from marble. In her hands was an impact grenade launcher.

“Need my help for everything, don’t you,” she said with a smirk.

“Boy, am I glad to see you!” Slim declared. They all abandoned their defensive positions and moved over to her.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Fencer grunted in grudging approval. “But how did you know--?”

“Personal transmitter,” Conor interrupted, holding up a small pen-sized cylinder with a microphone on one end and various buttons along its length. “Never leave home without it.” They all smirked at him. “However, I don’t think we should be lingering around to see if anymore show up. Kerrigan, your timing, as usual, was exceptional, but so was the light show you put up--again, as usual.” He grinned. “Every sentry in a fifty block radius is going to be zoning in on this place.”

“Then let’s get the hell out of here!” Slim demanded. Conor and Blake shared a look--they hadn’t wanted to bring Slim along on this run to begin with. Conor made a mental note to avoid telling him about the next run until they were already doing it.

“Agreed,” Bore and Fencer chimed in. With that, the six Knights picked their way through the new door Kerrigan had so obligingly provided for them and escaped into the night.

[chrono]

How many chapters are there in this story?

Also while the current chapter 1 is fairly good, in a action junkie sort of way. I think that you can save some of the descriptions till later on.

Maybe it's just me but you seem to description a story instead of telling a story. Write from the veiwpoint of the(a) character and let his or her personality 'color' your view of the other characters, with his or her personal leanings and social attitude.

Also your descriptions could be more fuller in detail.

***Kerrigan was also distinctively female. She had full lips, dark hair, dark eyes, and a figure that looked as if it had been perfectly carved from marble.***

This is pretty vage description. Put emotive words into the description. Something like this...

***Kerrigan was also distinctively female, real a looker. She had full, lusciously(is that even a word LOL!), red lips that easly curved into a full smile, or the cruelist of snears when angried. Her body looked like the statue of a greek goddess stolen from some dusty museum and given life by one of the famed Virtual Artists. Her slightly olive skin, deep brown eyes, and wavy dark brown hair only heighted her goddess like figure.***

This description gives you some idea. It also convues the aspect of TIME and previous personal experience with that character. It's a minor thing, but it gives depth.

If that doesn't help open up some of the books you have and flip around and read the characters descriptions of others.

[McC]

Oh, you're right :) I always describe too little or too much and it ends up with me "describing a story" instead of telling it, as you so eloquently put (really!). Conor is the real protagonist of the story, so I'll just tell it from his perspective. Should it remain third person or switch to third?