Sunday, January 13, 2013
Excerpt From my New Novel
Since I have successfully determined that I can write better than the awful Star Wars movies-turned-into-books (by someone who has no idea how to write), I’ve decided to be brave. Dauntless, even (excellent Divergent faction, by the way). Okay, this is pretty lame for dauntless, but whatever. I’m going to share some of the first chapter from my new WIP (i.e., first draft) entitled The Tinkers. At least, that’s its current title. I haven’t been able to write much in the past week because I’m moving, and I ot sick, and I have finals this week (ugh), but I will write more. Currently, I have about 3k done on this. Sometime, I hope to edit, and find an ending for, The Chosen. I’m confident that that will happen in the next five months or so.
Without further ado (geez, I’m really stalling), here is my excerpt, seven hundred forty-four words that are partially useless.
She submitted easily. At first, she had resisted, but now, she was no threat. I put her under the anesthesia and watched her for a moment. She wasn’t the first one to resist, but she was the most memorable. Her lips were rose-colored; professionally dyed. Her face was a porcelain mask, commissioned by the best Surges in the area. Still, she couldn’t hide. They knew her age. Too bad. She was prettier than most.
“Dem!” Jack watches me suspiciously. He is younger than I am, as his unblemished face shows, but he acts like he is near thirty. “Get back to work. We’ve got a patient.” With a snap, he pulls on his clear rubber gloves and puts on his white coat. This is a formality, of course; no one is here to see us, so it hardly matters.
I nod. “I’m going. She won’t care, will she?” I laugh, but Jack scowls, a frown implanted on his face. Apparently, someone can’t take a joke.
“The Corporation is watching us. The camera’s right over there.” He nods to the camera with a rigid countenance. It swivels in our direction, scanning, watching. I draw in my breath, but Jack doesn’t notice.
I shrug with a slow, sure smile. “Gotta get back to work, don’t we?” He rolls his eyes as I pull on my gloves hastily.
“Hurry up.” His voice is as sharp as glass. I walk over to the medical cabinet and take out the sterilized shot and screw on the needle. I fill it with the murky anti-immunizing serum and go to the patient’s bedside. Or, more accurately, the off-white cot which she is strapped onto. Her lips are pursed slightly. I roll up her elegant sleeve, as her hand twitches.
Is she regaining consciousness? Jack swabs the flesh on her upper arm, still frowning at my obvious mistakes. I jab the needle into her arm. I push down, watching the mixture fall until it is empty. It should take it five minutes to start affecting her. I lean back against the medical cabinet and slouch. I close my eyes, as if when I open them again, I suddenly won’t have to do this. I gaze at the bland wall. It is bleached white, as bland as the robots that control those sorts of things. The ones who work at the corporation. It would be nice if it had a window. Of course, that would mean that we’d actually be able to see what was going on. And no one would want that.
“Dem, you all right?” I open my eyes grudgingly, knowing just who is asking the question. He is probing, like always.
“Yes, I’m fine. This part—” I swallow my words. No matter how much I joke with Jack, I can’t afford to get in trouble.
“I mean, it’s sad. It seems like she was trying so hard to go unnoticed.”
Jack shoots me a warning look. Of course, the corporation has that on camera now. They have everything on camera. “Yes.” His voice is tight and bitter, like a lemon. I had a lemon once, before the Corporation came into power. It was sour and flavorful, tasting like sadness—I break off my thoughts. I’ve got a job to do.
He continues, “Yes, but they always get noticed. Anyway, it’s just part of the system.” His eyebrows knot themselves together.
I nod, heaving myself off of the cool metal cabinet. My head is throbbing now, but I get the feeling that it’s more than a stress-related headache.
I walk over to her, watching her shallow breaths. “Okay, Jack, you’re right. We should get back to work.” I say this loudly, for the corporation’s benefit. As you might’ve guessed, I’ve become a much better actor since I was selected to be a Tinker.
I pull on my gloves, my hands aching to be free from the sweaty plastic. I turn to Jack. “How much does she weigh?”
“One-thirty.” Jack grits his teeth.
“All right then.” I hold the syringe, equipped with the needle. I put in the chemical until it reaches the number 13. I push it into her arm. Her skin feels like papery tissues. Her body is wearier than she’d care to admit, despite her plastic surgery from the Surges. I wait one, two, three seconds, until the fluid enters her bloodstream. I touch her, to see how she reacts to stimuli. A mumble escapes from her lips.
This is my first draft, so obviously, I’ll change it vastly, as I’m no Miracle Max—my first drafts are more Cliffs of Insanity*. That’s okay, though. It’s more interesting that way.
I just referenced The Princess Bride twice? Inconceivable!