#4 Rees - Setting Prologue Quote

When Bel created the world, he created it in the image of the world which had come before. In his reforging, he returned much of what man once was. Before magic, the sight, and knowledge.

Whispers of magic endure even now, yet always prove untrue. They were ancient even in the old city, which forms the bones beneath our own. And they were ancient even in the city beneath that.

Do not, my students, be led down the path of hunting old magic. It is a proven folly. Nobles of every era have spent their fortunes on such wishes. You would do better by investing in the thriving fishing trade - our great wooden ships have begun mastering the ever-dark lake tunnels. Or, you could throw your inheritance away, on magic and yester-world tales. Even now, half the great houses dig, supposing that they just need to find the ruins of a city deep enough.

-          Lecture from the Scribe Orvo, who later embarked on an expedition to the mines beneath, seeking treasure and magic.

#3 Rees - Survival

Nothing too fancy. A 'get back on the saddle' attempt, while trying something somewhat new to me. I fell into the trap of writing a short story again, and didn't actually take this where I'd originally planned (which is perhaps a good thing? In at least making the story unpredictable). It's likely far from my best, but was fun to attempt to write new emotions like fear and panic. I also tried to work in some advice which I've wanted to try.

***

Tom edged forward through the trees. He had an enormous branch in hand, and would not be caught by the jaguar that lived on this island. Or panther. Or whatever the fuck that big cat was.

He would survive this.

The thick green foliage stank of death, and he knew that carrion feeders were scurrying about his feet. He could only thank some god for the fact that his shoes had survived the shipwreck. Nothing else of note had, as far as he could tell. Not even any of the other passengers of the cruise-liner.

Something slithered across his foot.

“Fuck me.”

He shrieked, kicking wildly and hopping back. But it was gone. The jungle would not eat him. Yet.

He finally reached a clearing of long grass, which almost reached his chin, and didn’t help his calm much. But ahead, after this half hour of dangerous walking, he found the gravelled rocky edge of the mountain he’d spotted from the beach. Good. Maybe after this week of hell, he’d finally get a good view of the place.

Tom began the climb. More of a scramble, really, as the gravelled slope kept shifting beneath him. But he would get up. And at least it was dry and devoid of life here.

A shadow passed over. Just a bird. Not even the larger birds would take on a full grown adult. At least he hoped. And, well, he perhaps wasn’t the biggest or strongest of adults. In fact, three years of managing a strip club had hardly prepared him for this. Tom wondered if it was some sort of karma.

But he would survive. He-

His hand hit another hand. Except, it wasn’t a hand. Not anymore. It was a skeleton sticking out from the gravel at the wrist.

Tom scrambled back, almost sending himself sliding down the mountain.

“Fuck me.”

He wouldn’t dig it up. Who knew how long it had been. Perhaps even a pirate from other stupid era. Before technology and smartphones and GPS and… everything else which he didn’t have. But the people looking, they’d have helicopters, and planes, right?

But then again, it had been a week, and he’d seen nothing…

Tom continued upward. The actual peak was hours away, with a potentially impossible climb. This was hardly some tourist destination, with a nice mapped out path. But a lower lookout point might do wonders. Perhaps there’d even be some sign of civilization in the distance.

There was a scrambling on the shifting rocks behind him, and Tom swung around with his big stick. He caught the cat just in time, sending it sideways as its claws reached out for him.

It skidded, rolled, then spun back to face him. Ah fuck, it wasn’t running this time. And he even had a stick.

“Eat something else you cunt!”

It charged.

Tom, in a moment of blind stupidity, charged back.

He tripped, then tumbled, and hit the cat faster than either of them had anticipated. Before it even had its claws out.

They rolled, cuts and bruises finding new ways to add to the pain.

Tom bit. The cat roared.

And like that, the cat was scrambling, and running away. Tom had shown it somebody who could fight back. He couldn’t believe he’d just bitten a giant cat too, it tasted awful.

He began spitting out hair and who knew what else, then collapsed.

He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive. Defeating the cat was no victory, it only rubbed in how helpless he was here. What if he didn’t have the scrambling stones to give him warning? Or what if he’d been asleep?

He glanced up the hill. What was the point? All he’d see would be ocean, jungle, and beach. There’d be no modern city on the horizon like he’d hoped. Hell, he might just find out that he was completely trapped on an enclosed island, or, that the jungle went on forever. Neither would help him feel like he had a chance.

Maybe he should just go back down, save the energy, and sit by his S.O.S beacon.

Ah, fuck it. He’d come this far.

He stood, and continued the climb.

Tom snacked on the berries he’d found. They hadn’t killed him yet, which was a good sign.

He finally emerged onto the lower peak, and felt a new wave of wind hit him. Damn, he was actually kind of high. He edged forward, seeing more of the jungle and ocean sprawling out in front of him.

But there. Way up the beach. Further than he’d walked. There were buildings. Maybe even a whole town.

Tom didn’t dare cry. But he did find his eyes growing a bit misty.

***

Tom dropped the stick. He could see the buildings now. He was half tempted to run. The damn sand didn’t help with that though.

His clothes were a torn mess, his hair in tatters. A week of growth on his chin and cheeks probably made him look quite the mess. What would they think of him?

The buildings were one and two story concrete rectangles. Perhaps even some sort of utility facility. Well, that might not be so good, in terms of anybody being there to help. But at the same time, he felt like he’d have a better chance with professionals connected to the world than random villagers who he couldn’t even speak with.

“Hello?” Tom called, edging forward.

It was only as he entered the compound did he realized that it was abandoned. Overgrown weeds poked out of every corner, and the bar across the road gate was rusted.

Still, at least that meant there was a road…

He would check the buildings first. Perhaps there’d be a phone line.

Tom smashed in windows, finding that many of them already were anyway, and searched the place. Almost nothing.

He found old jeeps, but they didn’t work, and he hadn’t had much hope that they would. Still, it was nice to smell a bit of civilization again.

He continued on. Old desks. Rusted lamps. Some magazines with a red circle and monster skull in the middle. Matching the logo on the jeeps. This had apparently once been a theme park of some sort.

Well. He had a road to follow now. He would survive this.

Tom edged out onto the cracked asphalt, when he heard the guttural cry.

They were… giant lizards. Raptors, he thought. And they were watching him from the rooftops of the compound he’d just exited.

Fuck. What in the flying fuck?

There was no time to think. Tom finally ran.

He sprinted as fast as he’d probably ever run, down the road which at least provided solid ground now.

But they were following. And damn, they were fast.

But he was made for this, even after years of not doing it. And they weren’t. Not quite as well.

Tom flew like the wind, somehow managing to ignore the pains in his body. He just knew that he needed to run. He suddenly understood what it must have felt like for the wild chickens he’d caught over the past week.

But the monsters gave up chase, and Tom dared to slow and look back. His eyes were wide.

What in the flying fuck was-

There was a huge crunch to his right, and he whirled back to the forest beside him.

An enormous creature – a dinosaur, he now understood – charged out. A Tyrannosaurus Rex, he thought bitterly, somehow remembering a bit of education from his childhood toys, right as it opened its jaw and ate him.

#3 Nonie - Late, short, and unedited (Summer Daze)

There is something magical about these washed out summer days, Regan thought. The army green of the trees racing past the car, the faded blue expanse above, as if bleached from the months of summer. The broken road stretched out in front of them, dirty white lines meeting at the hazy horizon. Regan hung his elbow out the back window, nodding his Raybans onto his nose, and leant his head back to stare up at the sky. In the car, he could hear Lisa arguing with Jay over the music, debating the merits of Triple J versus Jay’s Kooks CD.
Wispy white clouds hung close to the horizon, where the sky paled even further. Regan could see the sun glinting off cars in the distance ahead of them, and the glare reflecting off a lake to the left.
“I spy with my little eye, something beginning with an L,” he said to the car at large.
Tom rolled his head over to glance at him, before returning to the view out of his window. Lisa turned around in her seat and cocked her head, narrowing her eyes in thought. Jay took his opportunity to switch back to his CD.
“Lines?” Lisa tilted her head the other way as she said this.
Regan shook his head. “Nup.”
Tom remained looking out the window, saying “Lake” to no one in particular, in a bored tone.
“Yeah, well, it’s not like the scenery exactly lends itself to a challenging game of eye spy”, Regan retorted.
Lisa rolled her eyes and turned back to the front. “Oh, this is the turn!”
Jay turned in, slowing down as the bitumen road turned to gravel. Regan perked up, taking in the expansive white sand beach coming into view, and the sparkling blue beyond. Jay stopped the car facing the beach, and Tom was already halfway to the water, shirt striped off, with Lisa further behind, dress caught in her hair as she raced to follow. Regan got out of the car, leaning against the door, and smiled at how empty the beach was despite the heat of the day. He raises his eyebrows at Jay, who had now locked up the car, and they both turned and ran across the scorching sand, passing Lisa on her towel, and splashing into the water at the same time.

#2 Nonie - It's not goodbye, it's see you later

Grey approached the solitary figure from behind, coming to stand beside him at the railing. The observatory windows stretched wide in front of the two figures, the second level quieter than usual.

"Grey."

"Raike."

For a while, they both stood in silence, looking out over the planet below, and the quieter parts of the spaceport that could be seen from here.

Watching a group of tourists free jump to the surface from the diving platforms, Grey smiled, remembering how the two of them had played hooky from the academy countless times, making fun of the tourists on their overly expensive tours while the two of them had snuck to the surface for the real experience.

Raike saw the smile out of the corner of his eye. "Remembering the canyon?" He was still facing the window, but a smile played at the edge of his mouth.

"And the resulting hospital trip you had to hide from the Sargent!" Grey's smile widened. "Of course, he always knew anyway."

"Only because you couldn't help giggling to yourself every time he asked about my arm."

"I do not giggle!"

"Sure, just like you never smuggled alcohol into the dorms."

Grey snorted. "We would never have been caught if Harre hadn't noticed we were hammered and insisted we share."

They fell back to companionable silence. At one side of the window they could see part of a ship slowly turning, aligning with an empty cargo docking bay.

"Nice engines."

Raike glanced sideways, but when Grey remained facing forward, he turned back to the window. "I had a tour this morning - shiniest star-class forty fives you've ever seen. I'm going to be run ragged mopping up every spec of oil, assuming Lieutenant Roe ever trusts me enough to go near his babies."

"At least you'll be serving on a star-class! My boat could hardly win a race with a Jovian slug."

Raike ignored the tightening in his chest at the reminder of the different ship, and their imminent parting of ways. "You'll be running it within the month, Science Officer notwithstanding. The poor saps don't know what they're in for."

Grey smiled at that. "I don't know what you're talking about; I'm a model officer who would never speak out of turn."

Raike barked a laugh before straightening his face and turning to look at Grey, eyes wide. "And I'm a three-toed jack rabbit with a penchant for lettuce."

"To be fair, lettuce is pretty great."

"I believe that is what we in the business call a 'shit-eating grin'."

"You would know!"

The banter continued, sharing memories and jokes for a little longer, but soon Raike was looking at his watch reluctantly. “I have to report in at 0800.”

Grey sighed, and looked the other way.

Raike tried to cheer them both up. “Who would have thought the two top students would get the best postings?”

“Who would have thought an engineer and scientists would need different things out of a ship?” Grey retorted, reminding them that they were about to board very different ships, going in very different directions. Grey’s sarcasm came with a sad smile that Raike couldn’t see.

Raike’s heart clenched and he carefully placed a hand on the rail, next to but not quite touching Grey’s, holding his breath. After a moment, Grey turned back, crossing arms as if to keep something contained. “Well. Have fun! Not that getting your hands dirty is fun, but there really is no accounting for taste. We’ll keep in touch?”

“Of course you nonce, we’ve assignments, we’re not dying! We’ll meet back here every few months, and there is always the intra-net. You can brag to me how quickly you take command.”

“Science Officer, Raike.” Grey said this with an exasperation that spoke of excessive repetition.

Raike just rolled his eyes, knowing better. “Anyway. We’ll talk?”

Grey wished he would talk about switching assignments, or just ask Grey to stay, rather than this polite goodbye. What came out instead was, “yeah, I’ll see you ‘round.”

Raike smiled. “Good luck.”

Grey looked down at their feet for a moment, boots toe to toe, then looked up and smiled. “See you later.”

As Grey turned and walked away, Raike let out his breath. A quiet “don’t go” escaped with it, but Grey was already too far to hear.

#2 Rees - Combat Scene - The Knight

I don’t think I’ve ever written a combat scene, and am short on time this week after a particularly productive day with work. So I thought I’d try something different but simple, just to see how it goes in retrospect, which is theoretically the point. I tried to recall some advice from Brandon Sandersons’ lecture on writing combat scenes, though it’s been some time since I’ve watched the video. I haven't re-read this (write and forget, at least until time for a retrospect), but I actually felt pretty happy with it as I was going.

------------ 

Dead leaves crunched beneath his steel plate. Kriton prayed for weightlessness, and the noise stopped.

Forms solidified in the mist, and he realized they were tombstones.

Why did it always have to be a graveyard? Did the followers of death imagine they gained some power here?

Something swept through the mist behind him, and Kriton prayed for strength. Instead of using it to attack however, he used it to jump.

She screamed as she missed, stumbling underneath him, where he had just been standing.

He landed behind her, heavy, and the ground shook. Without his prayer for weightlessness, he was like a boulder in his armour.

“Godly fool.”

“Death witch.”

They engaged. Her knives sought the holes in his visor. His greatsword deflected them with ease.

Until one almost made it through.

He prayed for speed, and matched her prayer just in time. Both aspects were equal in this.

Five quick swipes came at his face. He blocked every one.

He made a large underhanded swing at her legs, but she jumped away. So she was praying for strength.

Well, at least it was an even match. He blinked, and looked down. Blood in his armour joints. Perhaps not.

Poison.

Shit.

He immediately prayed for life. She must have prayed for death, because the effect was slower than it should have been.

The witch closed the gap, knowing that he was unable to pray for anything else. Damn.

She prayed for lightning, and it arced on her sick long blades.

He bellowed, and charged. She hadn’t expected that. But he was hardly powerless without his prayers.

He slammed right into her, before she could properly align her blades, and she sprawled back along the paved paths.

His sword came down at her in an instant, and she was forced to pray for speed to evade.

The witch shot back away from him, propelled by fast moving arms and legs, and then flipped up.

She came at him again, trying for something less fancy this time. Raw speed came at his visor.

He covered his helmet with his wrist, and his exposed joint with his elbow. Her blades struck, but did no harm.

She howled.

His healing was done. At least as much as he needed.

He prayed for fire.

His flame burst alight, and she was not prepared.

Her eyes widened as he lifted it high. She was too close to the heat to think. Surprise had taken her.

He smashed his sword down, hearing a satisfying crunch. Sizzle and smoke poured forth a moment later, and the knight knelt forward.

The poison still wore at him, he needed to heal.

As he rested on his sword, he glanced down at the figure he’d slain. Thin, gangly, smoking far too much.

Damn.

She’d prayed for illusion.

He whirled about, and caught her right in the side for real this time.

Her shocked eyes met his, and even through the visor, he knew that she could see.

There was a reason they sent him. And had for many years now.

The witches of death would themselves die. And then the god of life would consume all. Nourished on the souls of the world, which would end in consumption. Their efforts to end Him, and bring death to a god, must not be allowed. Would not be allowed.

The knight of the apocalypse stood, and wiped sweat from his brow. Another world would be claimed. Another world would fall.

#1 Nonie - The Forest

Amir approached the temple with trepidation. The last time he has come before the elders, Kia had been beside him, silently lending courage. Now she was gone, like the rest of them.

The jungle felt oppressive around him. All his life that humid greenery had been a comfort, shielding him from the terror, providing food and shelter, and a sanctuary to escape to when the elders had turned on the people. But today it felt like it was watching him, with animosity and challenge radiating from its dark undergrowth. Maybe it knew what was coming, and it sought to cow him, dissuade him from his resolve. But it was just trees, and he knew better.

His feet dragged over each step, raising dust on stone that rarely saw traffic. It wasn’t often that one of the people sought conference with the elders, and of course the elders themselves lived solely within the temple, no need for sustenance or other trappings of the living. As he reached the top, he paused for a moment, turning to look one last time at what had been his home, but soon would be gone. He hardly noticed the faint tremble beneath his feet. He wondered briefly if Astor had paused here too, but of course that had been months ago, and he had still had hope that Amir might succeed where he had failed. Amir had no such hope – he was the last. If the elders did not agree with his service, that he had fulfilled their contract, then the terror would take him too. Of course, the alternative wasn’t much better, but survival was a strong motivator, even after all this time alone.

Thinking about those last few months steadied Amir’s resolve, and he turned back to the entrance, thin brown shoulders set against the fear playing inside him. He marched from sunlight to darkness, eyes blinded, but there were no obstacles in the long wide corridor ahead. His sight returned as he paced along, but he continued walking past the horrors on the walls. His courage was fragile enough; he didn’t need to see what failure looked like. He wanted the memories of his friends to remain clean, untouched by their gruesome deaths.

Ignoring further trembles shaking dust from the walls, he pushed through the doors into the elder’s chamber, coming to a halt in the centre of the smaller room. The elders reclined in their thrones, as they had done for centuries, their yellow suits still bright in contrast to the mummified remains inside, and the crumbling walls surrounding them.

Taking a breath to steady his nerves, Amir spoke to the corpses. “I’ve completed my duty! I ask you to release me from this prison!”

Nothing stirred. He ignored the trembling in his hands, trying not to remember how that same silence had greeted him last time he had petitioned on Kia’s behalf. It hadn’t worked them, and if he had looked, he would have found her in the corridor as well, among the rest of them. He had believed that she might have been the first to pass their impossible standards – why else would he have petitioned for her! But her service had not been enough, and she had been sacrificed to the terror as all before her. If he was judged to have failed too, the jungle would be sacrificed along with him, as its last caretaker, but he could take no more. He had given it months after Astor had left, months more than he thought he had in him, and now he could only hope it was enough.

“Release me! I cannot bleed for the jungle any longer. It will have to be enough; either the jungle is ready, or it too will be lost to the terror – you cannot bleed me any longer.”

The silence stretched out, the elders’ empty gaze still. It wasn’t working. Surely, surely, he had served long enough. There was nothing they could gain from withholding from his now. If they didn’t take the jungle as it was, and they sacrificed him to the terror, there would be no one left to tend it and defend it, and the terror would have that to.

His heart rate started to pick up, and as it did, it occurred to him that maybe the elders couldn’t help him after all. He had never seen them sacrifice the others to the terror, only seeing the evidence of it afterwards, hanging in the corridor for the rest of them to see when they came to plead their case. Maybe the terror just took what it wanted, and the elders truly were as silent as they seemed. But no; occasionally one of the people had been taken, and not returned to the corridor. Surely that was a sign that their serviced had pleased the elders. Amir had been sure, after Astor had failed and he had been left alone, that if he just tried hard enough he would be taken. But then days had turned into weeks, then into months, and then he could wait no longer.

He was breathing harder now. “Please elders, hear me!” He wondered now if anyone was listening. “I have done as was foretold, the jungle is ready!” He stared up at them, starting forward slowly, continuing his plea. “If you won’t save me from the terror, at least take the jungle. We have given everything to make it worthy!”

In his increasing fear, the elders seemed to be grinning down at him, laughing at his pitiful efforts to appease them. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe there were other jungles, to compete against his, and they didn’t need the jungle after all. Maybe they had chosen another years ago, not long after he had first been sent here with the others, and as the terror slowly ate into their numbers, they had been forgotten, until it was only him. Maybe the elders had long departed, and he was truly alone, only him, the jungle, and the terror, with only the dead to laugh at him.

All was lost. He couldn’t go back now. The tremble in his hands was now felt throughout his body. Or was that coming from the ground? He froze, finally paying attention to his fragile mental state. No, he was steady before his inevitable doom – he had known what was coming – so that trembling must be coming from the temple itself. Now that he was paying attention, he heard a deep grumble coming from the centre of the ground itself. He turned and ran back through the doors, along the corridor, and burst out into the sun.

Except there was no sun.

He stared upwards, and realised that that wasn’t strictly true. The entire sky now contained points of light, and off to his left there was a faint glow coming from below the horizon. Looking closer straight up, getting excited, he realised there was a lattice of metalwork covering the sky entirely, and he realised there must be glass in between each panel.

He had done it!

But he was still here, and that confused him. They had taken the jungle, but he was still here. So did that mean he was to remain as caretaker? He couldn’t do it alone. He wouldn’t! Those last few months had been hell after Astor had been sacrificed. Surely he had appeased the elders, if the jungle had been taken?

Suddenly he found himself standing in a sterile white room. The same white room he had come from before the jungle.

But they had promised. Tend the jungle, and you will be released. They had promised! He had done his service!

He fell to his knees unseeing, tears already tracking down his face. He had done his service. He had given them the jungle. They had taken everyone from him. He had done his service.

“The prisoner will stand for sentencing.”

Suddenly he remembered what came next.

“The prisoner will stand.”

He couldn’t do it again.

“The prisoner will stand.”

He couldn’t take another life of this.

“Sentence remains. For each life taken, a life in service.”

He hung his head, remaining on his knees.

“Forty lives of servitude, given in the name of the elders. Eight lives remain. The prisoner will be remade, to tend the desert.”

A light flashed, and the cycle started again.

Rees's Writing Notes

This is just a rough list of things, so I have it somewhere. Might be expanded.

Punctuation.

Apostrophes for possessive - John's Hat, Germany's Soccer Team  - but not for 'it', its fur, its duration, not it's fur - after s for multiple possessive, The Germans' Soccer Team / The Germans's Soccer Team

Punctuation inside quotations - "Hello there," he said, "My name is John."   /   "Hello there!" Tim said.   /   "Is it Tuesday?" John asked.   /   But never use a fullstop before more attached dialogue info. "Hello there." John said.

Dialogue

Use 'said' as much as possible in dialogue, as other tags stand out to the reader and distract them, whereas said is invisible (apparently).

"Over here," John said. Avoid yelled, whispered, etc. Character behaviour should be obvious in how they speak. Even avoid 'asked' and 'replied' a lot of the time, as it's obvious they've just done it. (There are writers who don't agree with this)

Identify who is speaking as early as possible, so that the reader doesn't have to backtrack once finding out. If it doesn't fit in the flow of conversation, put it before the conversation. Jim sighed. "Very well, let's get started."

Cut Adjectives and Adverbs mercilessly

"As to the adjective, when in doubt, strike it out." - Mark Twain

Cut down qualifiers/descriptors/whatever, and combine dual words which describe an action, into a single word which better describes the action.

"He walked quietly" (bad) "He Snuck" or "He crept"

"He crossed the road quickly" (bad) "He crossed the road" or "He ran across the road"

"He ran excitedly into the freezing rain" (bad)" "He ran into the rain"

Passive vs Active Voice

The hammer was slammed against the table (bad, something was happening to the hammer, yet hammer doing the action).
The hammer slammed against the table (better) or Billy slammed the hammer against the table.

The idea came to John as he was driving home from work. (bad)
The idea came to John as he drove home from work. (better)

Mary phoned when I was eating my lunch. (bad)
Mary phoned as I ate my lunch. (better)

Stained Glass vs Transparent Writing

Whether or not the writing is noticeable to the reader (flowery or simple).

e.g. might open a chapter with beautiful poetic writing, which is quite noticeable (like a stained glass window), then switch to simple non-distracting writing once the action gets moving (which is transparent).

Foreshadowing

Mention things at least 3 times in appropriate places to foreshadow

Writing Tips - Brandon Sanderson (Mistborn, Stormlight Archive, Emperor's Soul, etc)

I think I've only watched the 2012 lecture series of these, but there was some interesting advice mixed in with some presentation roughness (one of the links may be dead but the video is on youtube elsewhere).

From one of the most prolific authors around putting out multiple books per year, with huge success on each one.

http://www.writeaboutdragons.com/brandon_w2012/

#1 Rees - The Seventh Rule (Teaching Scene)

This is a very messy attempt at getting at least one practice writing bit done per week. Written on my phone while walking, so probably particularly bad.

I picked a scene, wrote it, and then reflected on which parts were difficult or could have been improved, and what I might want to research (new words to avoid repetition etc).

It's probably unreadable and isn't really intended to be read by anybody anyway, but just serves as a reference for my notes at the end, as well as a way of tracking what I've done, and hopeful eventual improvement at this.

----

"The fifth rule of spaceflight is-"

Master Yuri stopped, and slammed his hand down on the desk.

"Arms. Are you even listening?"

The teen flinched, and glanced back from the holowindow.

Master Yuri followed his gaze, and then sighed.

"She's not real, the girl in the park."

"She is to me."

"Arms... She was from Earth, over a hundred and sixty years ago. There's nothing behind that glass except rock. She's a dream of every boy whose sat in that chair."

"That's all I'll have, isn't it?"

Master Yuri frowned.

"If I become a freight hauler."

The old man sighed, and raised his hand, but the teen stood faster.

"When I'm out there, doing this assignment-"

"When you're out there - in the cold of space - you'll be asleep the entire time. That was the fifth rule, by the way. Never eat two cycles before boarding."

Arms glared.

"And all I'll have is dreams. Look me in the eyes and tell me that it's not true."

"It's a good career  You'll be rich, when you get back."

"Everybody else will be ten years older. I'll be a few weeks."

"Arms-"

"And then I'll leave again. The miners will be done. Some of them will be dead!"

"Arms!"

"And every girl I've ever known will be that much older than me. I'll be an outsider to a whole cohort. Tell me, because I just realized - Why have I never seen a previous generation hauler in our group? Because they're too embarrassed to show their face!"

"Look, Mister Melodramatic-"

"And then I'll be leaving again anyway, and all of those people will be old. I'll get back, and will be dating my classmate's grandchildren! How do you do it Yuri? How do you stay sane?"

Yuri sat back down, crossed his arms, and leaned back with a sigh.

"I teach."

"And so you can marry - what - your cohort's great great grandchildren? Did they even have cohorts back then?"

Yuri swiveled in his chair. Arms' eyes widened. So much like a young man...

"I am married."

"To somebody a fraction of your age?"

"No."

Arms scrunched his face.

"From your generation?"

"Yes. More or less."

A silence hung between them.

"I'm sorry. You must miss her."

Yuri snorted, and Arms' eyes bulged.

"I was trying to be respectful!"

"Arms..." Yuri said, "Back when the A.I.s had to be taken down, and we learned to make do. When I had to take up this job-"

"You were already old!"

"When I was thirty... I'm thirty two now..."

"Plus a hundred and forty years."

Yuri waved the cryo math off.

"Point. Being. Back then, I was stuck with the shitty prospect of hauling the iron back to Earth, so that we could get water. Seeds. Minerals."

"So you know..."

"And you know what I said?"

"That you wanted to be paid well in the new economy. Yeah yeah."

"No actually. That was something they added in generation four. Out of pity I think. Rule six, by the way - You should get paid sixty-six thousand chits on completion of your ten runs."

Arms' eyes widened.

"Trust me, as much as that sounds now, it ain't as much as it used to be. Those fourth gens weren't the brightest - growing up in near dark - and they didn't think to factor in inflation."

Arms' expression had mellowed, as he did math with his lips, but his scowl didn't disappear entirely.

"So do you know what my request was? To volunteer for that god forsaken job of exile?"

"To get a really nice plaque. Yeah, I've seen it down in waterworks."

Yuri stared, then burst into laughter. Arms pulled back at the old man's unexpected bellowing.

Finally he stood, and turned to look at the holo window with a smile.

"You know. I saw grass and trees once. Not up close, but from orbit above the Earth. On a screen, so no different really."

"You have money then? You could pay to hide me from the assigners. I'd do anything, anything you wanted. I'd clean and fix, and even hide a bod-"

Yuri held up his hand, and pointed to the recorder on the wall.

"No. Don't get stupid."

Arms collapsed back into his chair, true morose painted on his face now.

"Arms-"

"It's hopeless. Be put in prison labour here, or sleep with some stupid automated shipment. At least I'll be rich, but-"

"Rule Seven."

Arms looked up.

"When I volunteered to do this run, two years ago-"

"A hundred and forty-"

"Whatever kid. Don't interrupt, this is the problem with your generation. Even the second highest achiever in your group, and still a brat."

Arms blinked.

"I came in second?"

"Yep. 87 out of 89. Which ain't bad."

"Then WHY are they sending me on this god awful-"

"Would you shut up and listen? And sit back down."

Arms looked down at his feet in surprise, then sheepishly returned to his seat.

"When I was leaving, the bug in the AI learning had been found. We had to shut most everything off, and even then my generation was still burning fuel beyond sustainability."

"You wanted to get help? Look I'm not noble so-"

"No! I was surrounded by idiots. The whole world was going to hell in a handbasket."

Arms blinked.

"I knew I had to get out of there, for at least 70 years. I couldn't go to Earth, since I never developed the tolerances, but I should have negotiated for more! The idiots were willing to give me bribes so long as I did what they saw as the worst job."

Arms' face was scrunching through a dozen expressions as he tried to process the meaning.

"Arms. This place is shit. It's still shit. Better than back then, sure, but you really want to be eating algae bowls forever?"

"But I'll still be alone..."

"Rule. Fucking. Seven. I saw they were burning resources anyway, so didn't feel bad asking for a 2nd cryo pod. The 'sacrifice' is allowed to take their spouse. I said I'd take the trip if my wife was allowed to come with me."

Arms' lips moved but said nothing as he raced through the words.

"B-B-But," he finally sputtered, "Where is she now?"

"Prepping the ship, so that we can get going as fast as possible and leave this hellhole. Fortunately nobody has objections to us doing more runs. Every time we come back, things are a little bit more tolerable."

Arms stared in awe at the old man. The wiley master.

"... But I don't have a wife."

"Ah. Well. Back then, we didn't do the assigned marriage thing. Sixth generationors were #weird#. But the top compatible pair in every class has always been assigned together."

"But who do I-"

"Shuzie. She's already at the ship, with my wife. Wasn't half as dense as you are. I swear, the difference between number 1 and number 2 makes me weep for number 3, and I wouldn't even try communicating with the rest."

"Do does that mean-"

"Yes. The top two in every generation has left this hell hole. We'll be back, and rich, when it doesn't suck, and turn it all around."

Arms looked like he might cry at the news of Shuzie. All his melodrama about not leaving his generation behind seemed to have actually been referring to one in particular. And fair enough, the rest were idiots.

"Pack your things. You have a lot of more tolerable people to meet."



---



Author's Notes:

• Need to find more ways to describe somebody being surprised, while still showing and not telling. Hard. (repeated wide/bulging eyes etc, maybe try "whoa"? Pay attention to other writing)

• Might need to establish visuals of scene better when starting in heavy dialogue.

• Plan/write a better ending. In fairness, was doing this with draining phone battery and was getting a very sore neck.