Ywrighting: December 2013

Four Months!

How I Write

I just, write.

What I Am Working On

I submitted 6 stories this month, 4 of them are flash fictions(under 1000 words), 2 are short fictions (About 3000 words) (3 of the flash fiction and 1 of the short fiction were rejected earlier by others and I submitted to another place).

Starting to write with more subtleties, more details and greater length. Working toward my first paid publication.

New Target: One submission to The New Yorker per month, so that I can focus on one very important writing every month. Silly? maybe. P.S. Already submitted one for this month.

Working on a piece that is almost ready for submission to The New Yorker for January 2014, something about the world banned tobacco and alcohol. I just couldn't resist writing it ahead of time with the writer inside me just kept yelling at my reluctance to progress.

Working on another piece that is, well, on-going, I don't even know where it will lead me. I think I will send it to Tor.com, if I could ever finish it next month. Scifi for sure, alien invasion, mind control, soul walking, virtual reality, that sort of ideas. Right?

Why I Write

I dread office, kitchen, university, college. I adore solitude.

Where I Write

In my own room in front of the Acer C720 Chromebook.

And other imaginary spaces I conjured upon writing.

Who Motivated Me This Month

The Hobbits. Read below.

What Am I Reading

Reading Douglas Adams’ The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy . Still reading it, yeah, finding it hard to keep up with its mind boggling story.

Reading The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. Instant classic. Vast setting and epic journey, I want to do something this scale, or much larger, like gigantically. GALAXIES!

Am I studying

Obviously YES.

I am currently enrolled into 2 MOOC(Massive Open Online Course) provided by Coursera and iversity, and I believe much more to come in the next year.

Fantasy and Science Fiction: The Human Mind, Our Modern World
The Future Of Storytelling

Some more courses coming in January 2014.

Continue

It has been a fruitful fourth month, I believe I’ve been more productive and dug deeper into myself, about what I want to write and what I need to write.

Roughly 20,000 words.

~7000 words short fictions, ~15000 words blog and other writings.

I will be revisiting my first NaNoWriMo draft - Space Extra: Envision and made vast adjustments and massive rewriting, so, yeah, pretty busy to say the least. rewrite!

Planning on writing a piece on Red Van, a local story with a blend of sci-fi, ghost, thriller, fantasy, I don't know yet, haven't decided nor would I. I'll sleep on it till the idea crystallized.

Happy New Year

Red Van

David Chan drove a red van, a night circuit line around Mongkok, he worked ten hours a day, seven days a week, never pulled a sickie or late. For five years, he kept the routine. Just like Taxi Driver.

It was the best part of the city, from the outside, it was shopping mall, but the deeper he went, the nastier it became. Bar and prostitution, gangs and fights, were covered, wrapped in a modern setting.

One night, the road was clear and he sped to 90 and up on a straight, the beeping of the speed tracking device was going on so fast it almost stopped working. Then he slowed down at the end of the street and made a U-turn and attempted to achieve a higher speed, the thrill of being pulled backward by the undefined gravity, velocity, and kinetic energy.

He went over 100 and at a blink, he was driving through a mist, a fog that came so suddenly from around the building and engulfed the street. He slowed down and cruised around, looking for passengers.

Someone waved at him, and he stopped the van to pick up the person.

Crack

I never thought John Whitley did it.

The first time I meet John was at the art gallery, West 227. He was standing in front of a work on display composed by digital footprints. The peculiar sight of it captured only the two of us. As I approached him and aligned with him shoulder to shoulder inches apart, I could see it from his eyes, the passion, the curiosity beamed nakedly into the screen.

He stood there staring blankly at the artwork, with arms crossed in front of his blue sweater, hands under his armpits. His messy long hair and unattended beard extended everywhere like a bird nest. I glanced at him by the corner of my eyes, he looked entranced, obsessed, in a frenzy state almost as if he was immersed into the digital world, drowning in the sea of 0s and 1s.

When I had eventually walked around the gallery and left, he was still there, looking at the lines of codes, his eyes traced with every single dot that came through, and it made me thought of those console in the movie Matrix. Maybe he could read those lines, maybe he saw something there that I couldn’t, something with meaning.

The next day he was on the news, he was identified as a possible suspect, a hacker that stole money from a bank near the gallery and converted into digital currency and distributed far and wide. He ripped that bank off and tipped the poor, a cyber Robin Hood, people named him on the Internet.

From the footage release by the police that was broadcasted on the news, it looked like he found a way of access through that digital display. According to the description by the designer, it was reading raw electronic signals from the ten miles radius and thus, included that bank.

A female officer later contacted me and scheduled an interview with me regarding that matter, because I was in the surveillance video, they saw me stood next to him, though they didn’t know if we had communicated with each other or not. I made my best effort and explained the situation to the madam and she was pleasantly surprised that I remembered so much about John, except, I didn’t know he was called John before seeing the morning news.

At first sight, I thought John was just obsessed with those codes, just like any other people who are obsessed with coffee, soda, bacon, movie, porn, book, history, economy, philosophy, astronomy and computer technology, and many more.

Maybe John did it, maybe he didn’t, I couldn’t tell. He might just be a guy in the wrong place at the wrong time with queer actions.

SumFought: AMC - The Walking Dead Season 4

AMC’s The Walking Dead is slowly dying, from the inside.

When the show first came out in 2010 and received some decent views, it was great, more like a mini-series hit.

Then when it came to season 4 this year, everything changed. Change is good, mind you, but a show about the end of the human population going on such an uneven pace, exposed its fatal wound to the world-the story.

The cast and characters are great, the acting I can’t say much about. For a walker dominated world, survival is vital. But people died, and so did the show. They don’t have too many time for the epic tale to go on, too many time spent on one character and then suddenly, he or she was dead, but that didn't create such a emotional drive for the audience, the effect is not as great and as unexpected as Game of Thrones, certainly the character held less of an importance, and because we all knew, sooner or later, they would die, somewhere, somehow. It just couldn't make us care more.

The latest episode 8 in season 4, it tried to recreate the what the media called The Red Wedding from Game of Thrones, but people, these are totally different things. Yes, there were massacre in both shows. However, we should not compare the two, they are different. And sure The Walking Dead did not deliver the same amount of thrill, mostly because it dread on the story of the Governor and thus, made it even worse.

How will it goes, no one knows except the writers of the show, but one thing is for certain, walker must die, and so will the characters.

I guess the saying is true:

“You Either Die a Hero, or Live Long Enough to See Yourself Become the Villain.”

Including a queer character such as the Governor, a psychopathic agent of violent other than the mindless zombies is not a bad call, but the execution in telling the story of that, downplayed the cinematic effect just for that insanity.

The pacing was extremely dreadful like a slow death, maybe the creators are trying to achieve it, and certainly they did, but what is the motive? Is there anything exciting coming after the mid-season, or would it be the same boring tell-tale of the big bad Governor taking on a bunch of survivors? Was it worth it to waste the whole season to create something that might not even be much a hype?

The end is but a crumble, just like the season 1 poster for The Walking Dead.

SumFought: CW - Arrow Season 2

CW’s Arrow redefined the superheroes genre on TV.

After a ordinary epic opening of season 1, It still has the best fighting scene ever for a TV show about the Green Arrow Oliver Queen. The motion and sound effect is solid and presented in such a flow that you would force yourself not to blink even if it hurt your eyes. It's that good. With the purposeful dim lightning and misty setup, it give out a scent of The Dark Knight, and could potentially be the template for action-based TV shows on similar themes.

The story is instant classic, heroes do good deed and fight bad guys, that’s how the genre works. However, this one isn't straight up just happening in the present, but with a mix of the past that haunted the present. Memories could be scary, though revealing at times, and help solidify the episode in a remarkable way. Expect the unexpected.

The cast of Arrow is great, just look at the two muscle men fighting and showing off their bodies, ladies would scream and guys would get jealous. Though in particular, the girly assistant Felicity Smoak, portrayed by Emily Bett Rickards, stole the camera with her strong personality.

The story progress okay, you would kick back and enjoy most of the time, especially the fight scene if I hadn’t stressed enough. But at times, there are moments lack motion, lack the flow, it usually happens at the side story, so don’t worry about its air time.

You could laugh at the stupidity of the heroes, and laugh with some decent gag lines. Still, it is a superhero's episodic play, you know what you are in for.

You can catch five of the most recently aired episodes on Hulu, or six if you go to The CW. It could be the best action-hero TV show, yet.

Flying on the Rail

Pete lowered his head and stepped inside the back of the police cruiser. Presently, he heard a low humming when the vehicle lifted off from the ground in one smooth motion.

He looked out to the distant, where the traffic of the metropolitan area at the evening shimmered in vibrant colors, as different carrying vessels blew past each other in the predefined paths and drives, which looked to be intersected from the ground up or from the sky down.

The police cruiser quickly approached the city and joined one of the line, but it was congested and barely moving in any direction, which frustrated the driver. Without wanting to waiting any longer, the man handling the wheel blasted the cry of the deadly siren and cast the murderous lights of blue and red into the crowd. People were blinded as the cruiser flew away. The inaudible cursing and honking filled the space, Pete saw the it all, but not the two sitting in front.

Soon they descended on a landing pad and the one who rode shotgun dragged him out from the warm seat and escorted him down to the holding cell.

There was several heavyset in there, which seemed like they were from the same place as far as Pete could tell from their fancy clothing.

The cell door banged close and Pete sat silently down on the bench in the middle. The man who occupied the corner turned to look at him.

“What’s your deal?” said the man with a mustache.
“Fantasizing.” said Pete.
“What?”
“Have thoughts about stuff.”
“They arrested you for that?” questioned the man.
“No.”
“Don’t play with me, son.”
“I ain't you son.”
“So?”
“I deal.”
“I heard that’s pretty risky.”
“So you see.”
“How long?”
“Two days shy.”

Wei

Wei held the loosely wrapped joint in his left hand, between the middle and index finger, and inhaled deeply. The substances of the medical cannabis rolled into his system, and he felt like a vault had just been released as he twisted his head. He trapped the smoke in him to experience the fading sensation for as long as he could, and finally let it slip away as he exhaled unwilling. He took two more mouthful and ditched it on the ground, and rubbed the flame away with the tip of his left shoe.

As he walked out of the alleyway, streams of chilling winter air snuggled with him and the deserted street smirked at him. He headed straight to the shop, not thinking about the boring day he was about to have as was with everyday.

Ever since he finished high school in Arizona, he’d been making himself a living around the states with a job here and there, and he never quite get along with people and so was with the places he stayed.

But here in Montana, a small town with its quiet community, was the place he stayed the longest. There was a vibe about the people living here.

Speaking of people, there was this couple that followed him as he went to different places. He thought about reporting it to the sheriff, but didn’t want to make a fool of himself by having no evidence whatsoever.

They had been following him ever since he first noticed them in California. There was the man in a black tanktop and now in a heavy black jacket, and the women in a white t-shirt and now in a white overcoat. Everywhere he went, they seemed to be around, not that he ever went anywhere besides his room and the shop he worked at, and the park he went jogging every Sunday morning.

He had doubt about their existence, he wondered if they were his imagination, it also felt like he knew them, back in the days.

It all started when he first arrived in San Francisco working as a restaurant waiter, the job paid his rent for a small room living three other people, and he ate in the place he worked to save the money for the next trip.

The couple came in one night to the casual restaurant and he didn’t notice them at first because of the busy crowd, it was later till they were closing that he saw them at the corner table, still not willing to leave.

Jessie the manager politely showed them the door and they walked out in good manner. And that was where it all started. The couple would popped up in places he work or showed up around the houses he lived. From California to Nevada to Montana.

Wei planned his route based on the states that approved the use of medical cannabis, he’d been on it for some years now, it eased the pain in on his back from the injury he got playing basketball in high school non-competitively.

He never talked to them, because it all could just been a very rare coincidence. Besides, he didn’t notice anything wrong with the couple, they seem not know about him.

Wei opened the door and walked into the shop, and he saw Po was at the counter talking with the couple.

“That’s will be fifteen dollars.” said Po.

The man had his wallet out and gave a twenty, the women stuffed the product into her bag. They walked right pass Wei and didn’t even blink, like he was the usual stranger.

Wei almost reached a hand to pat on the man, he was about to spoke when Po called him. “Wei, Mrs. Peterson just called, she wants you to deliver a box of coke to her shop.”

“I thought she want it tomorrow.” He turned to Po and the couple walked out of the shop.

“Who cares, just go. It’s at the back.”

Wei sighed and went to his locker and wore a down coat. He opened the storage room door and lifted the box to the trolley, and pushed it out of the shop with a dreadful feeling.

His pace was slow on the road covered with snow, they were dirty and solid, every once in a while he would come out and shovel it to the sides of the road. Snow kept falling down from the sky like it was endless.

His hands covered in his coat, was gripping on the plastic bar of the trolley which protected him from feeling the freezing cold directly. He pushed the cart forward leisurely, his head hung low while his eyes browed the street.

The snow covered most of the places, and the street seemed to be frozen in time, nothing moved. The road itself looked slippery, and walked tricky. He had once fell down on the ground totally unexpected, and it hurted his beat up body so bad that he had to go to the hospital and stayed there for three whole days. The best thing though, was that he could get unlimited amount of painkiller or its equivalent. It was a gateway to both heaven and hell, depending on the situation.

Mrs. Peterson’s shop was three blocks away, a small bakery that made traditional bread and cake with a red brick storefront, which always reminder Wei of the doghouse he built for Rufus.

Background Check

It probably was the day when that cop came in to the shop to buy some freaking bubble gums and two cans of coke that Wei realized he was going to jail someday sooner than he’d thought.

The policeman was very friendly and chatty to him, he gave no attitude when putting the gums and drinks on the counter.

“Hey kid, how’s your day.” The officer had white hair and dark wrinkles on his face, like those that had experiences on field, who had seen fire fight and coordinated something big. He leaned close to the Wei and gave a chuckle.

Wei calculated the price and said. “That will be three ninety nine.”

The officer produced his wallet from his pocket and his big tummy kind of swayed in a slow motion in real time. He handed him the money and took the stuff he just bought and left the shop.

Cops like these were trouble at the house, Wei was put into the holding cell a few times when one of these came to him and offer him a helping hand, which turned out to be false hope. He couldn’t understand how they maintained that kind of ingenious smile and enthusiasm throughout the conversation, how they faked that face, perfected that twitch of a smile to get him to talk like a parrot.

Wei didn’t blame anyone, he knew his life wasn’t a choice, he could not control where he grew up, who he befriended with. He learned to accept it at some point of his life, when he done feeling fed up to everything.

His parents was smuggled to the states and his mother raised him up all by her own because his father left her when he was born, and so was told by her mother. He hadn’t seen a picture of him or heard his mother talked much about him, and sure as anything he didn’t want to meet with a guy that abandoned the two of them.

Wei grew up living in a small room, they had little food and not much to spend, life was dreadful and seemed meaningless, there wasn’t any fond memories to be found, there was only sorrow and despair.

The kids in school didn’t like him, they picked on him, the skinny Asian dude that always got bruises on him from nowhere. So he begged his mother to let him learn from an martial artist, she wasn’t sure at first about the idea, but soon a master contacted her and gave a very generous allowance to them.

With years of training and a heart of fire, his effort combusted into flame, and what came out of it, was a phoenix reborn, a fairly-build, strong and firm young man that could take on almost anyone with his bare fists.

It wasn’t exactly like the legendary Bruce Lee, or the modern Jet Li, he was a nobody, just an average asian-american living in the western dream that faded away with age.

There was this small convenience shop clerk job, and prior to that, he’d been a waiter, a delivery man, a dishwasher, all the tiny but essential jobs that dig people labour.

And these jobs paid like nothing, his life was still miserable. Through his street connection, he’d know of a place, an underground fighting game that paid heavy.

He won most of the time, taking in a large sum of money but didn’t show off his wealth casually. Some of the cash went to his mom and some he saved to a bank account that was managed by his schoolmate that worked there.

Naturally, people around him started to suspect something was going on in his life. He would show up at work with bruises like he’d been through a tough fight. The customers sometimes screamed at him for his appearance, once an old lady even fainted and had to be sent to the hospital for care.

Wei doubted himself countless time if that was worth it, would all these stuff paid off and led him to a happier life.

Motorcycle Kills

The motorcycle silently crept up to Malory, its streamlined transparent cover and the shimmering core of the fusion drive glowed with a blue aura, a ray that stood out in the night.

The driver wore a black outfit and had a reflective green helmet painted with logos or some sort-a crimson dragon and a white lion.

Maleny turned back as she noticed the dim blue light that was spilled in the air, and she froze at the sight of the motorcyclist. Her breath felt short and her lips parted away, she screamed with desperation, and fell quietly on the road.

The Ring

Cho was walking down the street when the ring slipped through his hand as he bumped into a kid who was running with his head looking back. The kid said his sorry and ran along, he hadn’t notice it missing until he tried to rub his finger.

He bent down to search the sidewalk for his missing ring, the sun was almost out and the light was dim, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the ring’s reflection some how but couldn’t see it anywhere. He squatted down and squinted and scanned the pavement, still nothing.

Every inches carefully surveyed, every crack and brick turned, and he had not seen the ring, not even a slightest hint of where it was. He was desperate, his heart was pounding and sweat was running down his forehead. It felt like going to his first job interview, except no one was judging him.

The ring itself was plain, round and polished and shimmer a silver ray like those you could get from any jewelry shop, there was no craving of letter or any special mark that could be used for identification, it was just a ring, raw and light.

So much so, it had its own special meaning to him. It was the first ring he had in his life, given to him by his father who wore it since the day he was born, and it was said to be the family heirloom, passed down for generations. When he wore it for the first time, it felt heavy as if the weight was burdened by its history.

A ring like that bear more sentimental value than its monetary value, when his father told him about the origin of the ring, he could hardly believe it. It wasn’t anything magical or mystical, nothing of that sort, not even twenty thousand leagues close to The Lord of the Rings.

Now that he thought of it, maybe the kid took it, he couldn’t tell, but the chance wasn’t slim. Kids like that, skinny and foul-looking with long, messy hair tend to steal, or were forced to steal for someone.

He didn’t the see the kid running at his way because he was looking up at the lightpost where he was standing, it was flickering, the white ray going on and off, he was about to call in when he saw the kid just before he crashed into him.

The impact was huge, partly because he wasn’t expecting, or anticipating such an event to happen on a deserted street, partly because he was feeling a bit lightheaded after work, and actually he was heading to the clinic for medicines if not for that kid.

The kid knocked him on the ground and he could feel the pain on his butt and lower half of his back. He did keep saying sorry mister, I didn’t see you there mister, it was my fault mister, are you alright mister, and hurried off.

Cho struggled to stood up and softly massaged and rubbed against his lower back, and that was when he felt something amiss, an ounce light on his finger.

That is EINK

(Written from what I could remember from a recent dream, still feeling a bit weird. It was modified for this blog edition)

The high pitch alarm sounded across the platform as the crowd ran upward from their station.

Luke looked up and saw how many bridges they would have to cross before reaching the top and sighed.

“Move it,” said Jason behind him, “Come on, move.”

They were in a big, wide tunnel, there was thousands of people in there, working on something.

People pushed forward and upward, they hurried their pace and it all felt too much.

Luke took a look at his e ink watch, there was nothing on display.

Jason saw him and knew his intention, “hey, the watch’s not working?”

“No,” Luke said and pushed the button on the side and the screen blinked once and showed the time.

“What is this?”

“It’s an e ink watch.”

“Seriously, I heard you can’t see it in the dark.”

“It has built-in light.”

“Why not the normal digital one?”

“The ran longer, and text clearer, and it’s lighter.”

“I don’t believe it.”

They squeezed into the elevator.

“You don’t have to.”

Jason thought of nothing more to ask.

J.A.N.E.

J.A.N.E. --- Joint ANdroid Escort

A line of android created for the purpose and function as a real life escort.

They would take your heart and gain your trust, and rip you off.

They are evil creatures created for the evils.

Windows Cleaner

I have always dreamed about going up on a skyscraper and descend it on the cart attached by cables and wipe the glass.

So, when Pete called me and offered me the job to wipe the glass of one of the tallest building in the city, I instantly said yes. How could I miss the chance of going on the dream job?

The job was simple enough, wipe the glass clean and do it quick.

Pete controlled the cart and we went from floor to floor, it didn’t feel like I am up in the air except the strong wind. I was so focused in wiping the glass clean and seeing the people pretending to not notice me and Pete, that I didn’t really feel the height.

Squeeze some cleaning solution on the glass in a circular motion and use that cloth to wipe it and gave it a watery treatment and wipe it dry and clean again, and that was it.

There was something I saw in the building during the wiping that troubled me though, Pete didn’t saw it and I didn’t told him, but it was real.

There was this lady in the glass, yes, in the glass, like in between the glass, not inside the building or outside with us, but seemed to be trapped inside the glass.

Every floor we went through, she would be there, either sitting or leaning at the corner or stare at me with her blank eye. Her face was white, plain and untamed, she didn’t have an emotion or movement, except the blinking of her eyes. She just stood there watching, sometimes her eyes would be fixed on me which gave me the chill, but other times she would look at the world outside, the restless city in action.

Maybe she was an imagination of my, maybe the height did messed me up, maybe Pete saw her too but didn’t tell me for the same reason.

Say The Word

Lucas was hiking that day, up to the mountains, down to the trails. The sun hid behind curtains of clouds and came out occasionally to prompted the earth that it was still pretty much alive, though not present all the time.

He had a camera strapped on his chest, it was recording everything thing he did because he wanted to share the experience of the roads and places he had been to, and brought some perspective to the public about hiking there.

It was a windy morning, he had been walking for two hours straight and was still seeing almost the same deserted plain earth, dust and some wild grasses were his only companion on the road.

There was this plane that flew by, Lucas looked up to it and felt the urge to grab it by his hand figuratively, so he raised his hand and posed a gesture of catching it by the tail.

The plane ripped off in the midair into two parts, the one part was the rear he was holding, and the other was the head that plunging down in an incredible speed. The camera was recording everything.

In the footage, he mumbled and cursed in astonishment and he held on to the tail of the plane in one hand while trying to catch or at least steady the head. And he did, he caught the other part remotely and stopped it from falling down from an cold altitude with high velocity. He literally killed and saved everyone.

With a shaking hand, he put the plane or rather pulled the plane to the ground like it was nothing. He then called the police vaguely reporting the incident he had witnessed, but leaving out the details.

He continued on his path and tested his new found ability.

One of his hand reached out and he was looking at a rock the size of himself, he gestured a crushing grip and the rock exploded before his eyes. Some of the pieces came to him in an incredible speed, he tried to shield himself by turned back and raise his hands protecting his head. The rocks did hit him but he didn’t feel much pain. In fact, when it stopped, he turned to himself with no trace of scar, nor bleeding wound.

He chuckled evilly and was thinking about something better.

“Turn this rock to gold,” he said and the rock he was looking at turned into gold.

“Move the all the cloud to the middle of the pacific ocean.” he said and the cloud above him was gone in a wind. The sun gleamed on him happily.

He posed a flying motion like the superman and a feeling of gravity was slipping away, and he boomed off the ground and flew up the sky.

“fly all the trash to the sun.” he said and every landfill, dumpster and trashbag left the ground and went on their journey to the sun. There was a small explosion on the sun but barely visible to the monitoring equipment.

Lucas flew past the park and landed in front of his house. He plugged the camera into his computer and uploaded the raw footage demonstrating his ability.

“Let me say this, no one will revolt against me or attach me, no one will make me their study object or notice me,” he said and felt something amiss and added. “I simply exist by name.”

And then he was gone.

Incense

There was this old temple, an old Chinese Buddhist temple. The wall and the pillars painted in red, the roof that looked like a book opened in half reverted painted in yellow, and many small painting and figurines in different colors, but mostly in green, and in the style of Chinese ink wash painting.

Smog formed from the incenses lighted by the people engulfed the temple and took over the color. The whole temple looked washed away, the paint peeled off from the wall and the ceiling of the temple made with thick round woods were covered in dark.

People came in with their incenses and light them from the box, where a thin line immersed in a pool of oil, leaving only a tip out and could be lighted for many hours. The incenses took only a few seconds to be ignited, and it will gradually burn to the ashes and the smoke it generated would be gone by then.

The incense was used as a kind of timing device back in the time, where people would light it up and do various kind of work in that time till it burned out.

The process of burning is slow, you could see it go from the top to the bottom in a leisure movement. Much like a smoke, it burned down to the end as if there were something eating it up.

Also, the smoke produced by the the incense is normally eye watering, if you got anywhere near it, it would feel like you are standing near a barbecue grill, right above it, to be precise.

But people still walk in and walk out like it was nothing, because their believe in the religion was so strong.

First Responder

Tory the robot driver sounded the alarm and Ken the medic hopped on the passenger seat.

“What’s situation?” asked Ken as the ambulance pulled away from the hospital.

“Code 23, critical injury.” replied the robot. “We are 7 minutes away.”

Ken picked up the kaller. “Medic 2-Alpha-2, requesting permission to highway. Repeat, speeding.”

Tory processed the request to the command.

“2-Alpha-2, you are cleared to go.” said a female voice from the comm.

“Now.” said Ken.

Tory the robot engaged the magnetic field generator and the ambulance was airborne. “Two minutes.”

“I need more info on the patient.” said Ken.

“Female, age 50 to 60, stabbed twice to the back as reported.”

“Any scanner around?”

“Establishing connection,” said Tory, “yes.”

“Show me the dimensional scan.” Ken requested.

The image came up on the windshield and Ken studied it before they arrived at the scene.

As the ambulance slowly lowered down from the belt, Ken unbuckled himself and jumped down and sprinted toward the patient. He gave the women a stabilizing squeeze on the arm and felt her pulse weakening. By applying the adaptive jelly on the surface of the wounds, the blood stopped pumping out.

Tory brought the flat from the back and carried the patient into the vehicle.

They sped away from the place and headed straight to the hospital.

CIVE

“Imagine, then reach.” - Cognitive Imaginary Virtual Engine C.I.V.E

A virtual reality based on a procedural system built on your imagination.

Interact with your greatest fantasy, or conquer your worst nightmare.

First think of what you would like to see, then reach out to it, it’s that simple.

*

Tom sat down on the chair and strapped on the visor. He had created a village of his dream yesterday and peeked at the villagers life, and today, he felt like destroying it with a vicious firestorm.

He imagined the flame rained like snowflakes, in a slow and tiny piece, but as they landed on the houses and the crops, it instantly caught on and spread to the surroundings. Soon the place was in fiery red, the flame engulfed the whole place and so was everyone in it.

After the play, Tom recovered the village from the previous save and conjured a terrible monster, which he was controlling. He stepped on the houses and breathed poisonous gases, chaos broke it, peace ran out. The screaming and shrieking of the villagers did not pleased him and he changed to the original save once again.

He played around for a bit and decided to get on with others. The global network matched him with another player anonymously.

Full Dimension

The security cameras at 44 West 77 picked up an explosion.

Normally the feed would be composed to a three dimensional footage that could be rotated and adjusted to any angle for the very best view. And through the dimensional footage, a slight moment of any person or object would be clearly visible. There’s also the dimensional scanning of the captured area, which could be used to find things inside someone’s bag or in the car.

What the cameras captured was an vehicle that exploded right above the magnetic belt checkpoint. By manipulating the angles combining the scanned imagery through the car, a hint of what exactly happened was found.

The car itself was in a mint condition, everything was working as expected and the driver had a clean record as well. There was nothing suspicious in any part of the vehicle or on the ground, at least not on the surface.

Subsequences finding revealed that an abnormal pulse was delivered from the underground right when the vehicle sped through. The pulse also damaged several electronics nearby, which appeared to have a fried circuits.

It was listed as an premeditated murder and the suspect was still at large.

Jacky lifted the manhole aside and threw a fully packed black rucksack down the tunnel. One of his leg knelt on the floor while the other found the step of the stair. He started to climb down as he pulled the cover to its original position like it had never been moved. Sweat was dripping down his nose, the itchy feeling made him uncomfortable and he wanted to pause on descending and swipe that away, however, the gas mask he was wearing complicated the simple gesture of sweat swiping.

He hurried down by sliding off from the ladder in a controlled pace and landed on the ground. The four flashlights mounted around the mask beamed deep into the dark tunnel, it was dusty but free from trash. Jacky found the rucksack and dusted it off before carrying on back and went on to the left.

A simple direction was written on the mask in very small words, LLRLRC. The trail seemed to ran on and split into many different places, if he had not had the slightest idea of where he was going, he would probably be stuck underground for quite a while.

He made the last turn and met a dead end. A careful scan of the wall revealed a keyhole hiding before layers of dust. Jacky dip into his pocket and produced a key, he slotted it into the keyhole and twisted in a clockwise motion. Presently he heard a clanking noise and the wall slid up.

The room it contained hummed back to life.

Inside, in the center, stood a device of devastating power.

Y lunged at the stomach of the gunman and knocked him over and he rolled out of the half closed garage hatch with the chair he was tied to.
— Stephen Y (@hackeryuii) December 13, 2013

Y exited the flower shop and hung up the call. Presently he heard a loud pop from a great distance, then the car alarm started beeping.
— Stephen Y (@hackeryuii) December 12, 2013

Y struggled against the piece of cloth covering his mouth, and he felt the world darkening with every move he made.
— Stephen Y (@hackeryuii) December 11, 2013

Y pushed the button to answer but didn't say anything. He heard nothing except a low hum, like an old light bulbs swaying in the background.
— Stephen Y (@hackeryuii) December 10, 2013

Y walked through an alleyway with his palms rubbing against each other to stay warm. He make a hot breath into his cupped hands.
— Stephen Y (@hackeryuii) December 9, 2013

Patting on his jacket, Y found an old model of Nokia on the inner left pocket and saw the display on the screen was a blocked number.
— Stephen Y (@hackeryuii) December 8, 2013

Y heard a ringtone somewhere in one of his pocket. The flower shop owner asked him loudly if he was going to answer that.
— Stephen Y (@hackeryuii) December 7, 2013

Y‘d a couple of drinks last night w/ frds in a bar. He didn't rmb what happened after he passed out, maybe his frds brought him back.
— Stephen yuii (@hackeryuii) December 6, 2013

Y lay on bed enjoyin the sunbath through the window which filtered the misc. n admitted only warmth. It'd be a shame 2 waste a day like this
— Stephen yuii (@hackeryuii) December 5, 2013

Y wandered into a flower shop, the owner asked if he needed anything, he shook. Seeing this, she returned to the customer on hold.

— Stephen yuii (@hackeryuii) December 4, 2013

Y froze at gunpoint, stared@the barrel inches from his eyes. He breathed in the dense air in the room, b4 sweat from X dropped on his shoes.

— Stephen yuii (@hackeryuii) December 3, 2013

Unresponsive

“Start.” Nick commanded.

Nothing happened. Normally it would take not a second, but not today.

His eyebrows tightened and tried again. “Start.”

Still.

“God damn it, start!” Nothing came to life.

“Start, start, start, start, start.” He felt the dryness in his mouth and stopped yelling. “Damn machine.”

After inspecting the cable and powercord and found nothing, he was frustrated.

He tried the typical unplugging and reconnecting, which yielded no result. While shaking his head, he noticed a orange light blinking in the background. “What in the-” He approached the giant case and saw a device plugged in to one of the port, which didn’t seem familiar to him.

The light blinked briefly in a long interval, no wonder he missed it the first time.

A closer look at the device coated in dark purple revealed the name of the manufacturer engraved in silver. ‘Voix.’ He said softly and grinned.

He removed the device from the port with haste and returned to the central stage. “Start.” He said.

And the machine hummed to life.

Three Months!

How I Write

Typically I write (type) in the afternoon and the evening till 10 at night.

And I have got the Acer C720 Chromebook earlier this month, so now I have a little setup where I can sit and type more comfortably. The transition from a desktop to this tiny Chromebook is not too painful as I was already working with the Google Doc way ahead of time in anticipation to the device’s arrival.

What I Am Working On

Starting from the 1st November, I was participating the NaNoWriMo.

I wrote a Space Comedy, something funny that involve a crew in a spaceship, adventures, jokes, explorations, encounters. It was a fun time to write, because I find writing about this particular subject easier. I have also made a brief outline and character cards before writing. and I found it helped me to navigate through the construction of the whole story much easier since it is a big story, and I am still working on it.

Oh, I named it Space Extra: Envision at the moment, not sure if I would change it. (Extra, referring to the extra in a movie)

I've also submitted 2 short fictions around 2000 words and 1 flash fiction at precisely 900 words to the following respectively: HKtopstory 2013(Result coming in this month December, I don't expect much, but you know, it's good to have something to work for), Crossed Genres(If you have the money to spare, please subscribe, or they will be forced to close down this month December) and Flash Fiction Online.

Working on two more short stories next month, really busy.

Why I Write

Same, I Write Because Writing Is Not A Game. Writing is a myth.

I want to make a career out of it, while people at my age are either studying hard in a university or other courses for four to six years, I will be writing for that equivalent of time and see how it goes.

Where I Write

In my own room in front of the Acer C720 Chromebook.

The noise is noisy!

Who Motivated Me This Month

People who are also attending this year’s NaNoWriMo. They dedicated a lot of their time on writing after their day job, and it ain't easy to be focused or determined enough to get to the finish line under such harsh conditions and terms.

What Am I Reading

Watched NBC’s new Dracula TV show recently and found myself reading the book by Bram Stoker as well, powered through it in a week after I crossed the finish line of NaNoWriMo.

My own NaNoWriMo draft Space Extra, obviously, so painful to look at. Many holes and details to fill in, many editing and correction to be done. Much to do in the coming year. Maybe my new year resolution would be to finish the editing and got it print out by the NaNoWriMo sponsor for free.

Took a glimpse of Douglas Adams’ The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy while on the trip to and from Singapore. It lives to its name is all I could say at the moment. I don’t remember the film, I am not sure I have watch it entirely.

Finished Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan, it’s a fun read.

I've read or seen or heard the name Moby Dick and my curiosity struck again. It's very difficult though deep in thoughts, indeed. Moby-Dick; or, The Whale is a classic. Will finish reading it this year, I hope.

Am I studying

Obviously YES.

I am currently enrolled into 2 MOOC(Massive Open Online Course) provided by Coursera and iversity, and I believe much more to come in the next year.

Freshly completed one of the course with a distinction. Hell Yeah!!!

Crafting an Effective Writer: Tools of the Trade

P.S. I WANT YOU

Seeking artist to draw, or more like sketch something base on the ideas and concepts. Nothing fancy.

If you have the time to spare, drop me a line.

Continue

It has been a fruitful third month, I believe I wrote more words than the last six years studying in school and the last two months. AND I LIKED IT.

Roughly 60,000+ words for NaNoWriMo and 5000+ words for the blog (Many were written in advance in October)

As of now, I have roughly 10 more writings written in advance, like a reserve in case I missed the daily writing or stressed out myself.

Peace

Ywrighting

Pages

Labels

Four Months!

Red Van

Crack

SumFought: AMC - The Walking Dead Season 4

SumFought: CW - Arrow Season 2

Flying on the Rail

Wei

Background Check

Motorcycle Kills

The Ring

That is EINK

J.A.N.E.

Windows Cleaner

Say The Word

Incense

First Responder

CIVE

Full Dimension

TwitFic@11

TwitFic@10

TwitFic@9

TwitFic@8

TwicFic@7

TwitFic@6

TwitFic@5

TwitFic@4

TwitFic@3

TwitFic@2

TwitFic@1

Unresponsive

Three Months!

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