Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Preview of a new novel.

“Mom, what’s for breakfast?”
“Purple, son.  Is this to your liking?”
“I hate purple!” Alyx whined.  “Why couldn’t we have orange?”
I rolled my eyes.  “Well, Alyx, we’ve only had purple every morning since our birth.  You would think that someone would stop complaining a month after leaving the womb.”   Alyx glared at me.  What an idiot.
“Settle down.  Samuel, Alyx is not an idiot, and if I remember correctly, Alyx surpassed you on last week’s exam by eleven points.”  Mom gave him that look he loves, and she patted him on the head.  Alyx’s smug grin made my teeth hurt.  “Samuel, for your passive aggressive thinking, you’re first to receive this morning’s purple vapor.”
I sighed, and leapt from my chair.  My bare-feet met the cold tiled floor and I stretched.  My muscles rippled with tension and some bones released a small crack.  A couple deep breathers, and, already, Alyx was growing impatient.
“Hurry up,” he seethed.
“As soon as you stop being a bitch.”
“That’s enough, Samuel Frankington.” Mom said.
“All right, all right.  I’m sitting down…”
There was a familiar, mechanical whirring above my head.  I sat down.
“Initiating daily news and events.  Today is December 21st, Year 42.  Temperature high is 62 and temperature low is 30.  Cloudy.”  The windows suddenly changed scenes, from a bright morning to a desperately dark overcast.  The heating systems could be heard faintly from within the walls.  Everything as it should be.
A syringe emerged from the ceiling, a purple liquid bouncing in the cylinder.  In the same exact instant, a band wrapped its way across my forearm and shoulder.  A monotonous voice from our house’s speakers then told me to relax and gave me meaningless reassurance.  “Everything will be all right.  It won’t hurt.  Side effects include vomiting and dizziness.  Thank you for supporting Life-Tec.”  This routine has been repeating itself once a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year, exactly at 8 o’clock.  I’d gotten used to it.
A sharp pain in my arm told me that a three inch needle had penetrated my skin.  “Mom, where’s Dad?” I said breathlessly.
“He is experiencing an illness at the moment.  Do you require his assistance?”
“No, I’m just curious,” I said.
“Curiosity is not necessary to-”
“To my existence as a young male and you disapprove of my pondering, I know.”
Mom grew quiet.
A few seconds of silence, and the needle left my vein.  “Process complete.  Please refrain from movement until the armbands have completely retracted.”  A cotton ball was placed on the puncture wound, and then the armbands released their grip.  I ignored Mom’s tapping nails and dead, emotionless face.  Sometimes, she doesn’t even look alive.
I crept past Mom with caution.  Her eyes followed me closely.  Alyx watched me, smiling.  “You’re going get it.  You know better than to cut her off,” he whispered.
“Shut up.  She hears you,” I breathed.
“She hears much more than what you say, Samuel…”  He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Alyx.  It’s your turn,” Mom said curtly.
Silently, he walked to where I received the shot, and I took his place on his soft bench.  Usually, I can r

(this is a preivew of a new science fiction novel.  more updates on the way.  LP.)

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