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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Prolog (v.1) - Prologue

Submitted: June 16, 2016

Reads: 342

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 16, 2016



In an instant, a horrid vibration, Sydney “Sid” Wednesday went around on the cluttered floor of her tiny room. Echoes of past voices, of erroneous suggestions pulled her closer to a wall to inspect a frame with an empty picture. It was just empty, a steel frame picture with no actual image. Just empty reflections from a solid glass surface. Sid corrected the frame, to let it slide twenty-five degrees in clockwise direction. It was a solid glass reflection. Reflecting her young face, seven years old as she stood upright in a tense position. This was the kid without a father. A lost soul perhaps, a stranger to a violent past. As her father had died in a war on the surface of Mars. Above which a huge space-station hovered in geo-stationary orbit. This was the birth-place of Sid and one room inside the space-station was given to her. The room in which she now was standing.  She continuously “corrected” the frame on the wall. Several times. Previously containing the picture of Sid’s father. Wondering who her father really had been. As he had died before her actual birth.

She lived pretty lonely with her mourning mother. Sid called to her mother, walking up to her, to ask many questions. But the questions were never answered. Sid’s mother, Amy, avoided all questions about Sid’s father. Instead she was drinking yellow liquid to calm her senses. To calm down, to give her momentarily pleasure. And the moving table in front talked aloud with countless news feeds from the surface of Mars. Amy was one of a kind. A victim of the altar of time. Of war, psychological decease and general disorders. The seven year old had to quit the questioning to walk back into her room. Watching the steel frame pictures. Empty pictures with blank reflections. She had one on the front wall beside a sliding door. One close to her bed and one hanging in invisible lines from a single point on the roof. Empty pictures. The image previously showing the happy face of Sid’s father. Taken away by Sid’s mother to forget the joys of previous times.

Sydney used an elevator to transport her thin body to a vista beyond her own level. Level by level. A whisper of dull friction, of mechanical push and brake. A rush of friction, of steel case acceleration and deceleration. A sucking sensation disorientating Sidney’s intestines. She thought about the death of her father and projected her vague emptiness onto the drowning forces. Of acceleration, deceleration and artificial gravity. Momentarily looking out of the elevator glass to watch mechanical bikes passing by. She went out inside a huge space-harbour to greet a mass of people with high pitched voices. Groups of children, elders and others in ages between. They came from space-ships, as if they came from a black void into a sphere of brightness. Just laughing.

Someone took Sid’s hand to lead her back into the elevator.

“It’s time for a futuristic conference.” The man said to Sid, “You are not allowed on this level.”

“I surely am.” Sydney said.

“You’re not.” The man said, “It’s dangerous for you because of all the space-ship loaders.” The man continued. He presented himself as Reynold Montgomery and put on a quirky smile. “Now return back to your place.”

“I don’t want to.” Sydney said.

“You say so?” Montgomery was pushing himself in his moustache quite worried. “I have to talk to your parents then.”

Sydney was escorted out of the elevator to a guard in an offbeat position. Informing the guard of the lost child.

“We’ll take care of it.” The guard said.

In a flash Sydney was down on Mars sweeping silently through a smoky stage of war formations. A jet was flying through the terrain of terra-formed Mars. A planet of artificial atmosphere. Of flying jets and huge tanks using plasma-cannons on flying orbs. The buildings of future Mars were coming down. Soldiers were crawling out from burning bunkers breathing green gas used for visual distortion. Sid’s father was coming down on the rust-red soil. Consumed by burning liquid. His entire space-suit was burning with the gas from a gasoline bomb detonating before impact. And he looked closely down on the ground. With shaking hands. Disoriented from the view of mesas and burning tanks.

“I wish I knew the name of my unborn daughter!” Sid’s father thought. “If I only could remember!”

Sid’s afternoon was spent in isolation. She was just sitting close to a window in her tiny room after the walk with the guard. Overlooking the dull shape of Mars now half drenched in blackness. The sun had almost gone down. But the lonely girl couldn’t put her mind at ease. She was thinking about the death of her father. So remote to her, so alien, so frightful. And she was wondering if she ever would get answers to her countless questions. It was a dark suspicion. A deep held sense of importance. But late afternoon gave room for night and there came no answer. Some lights were lit on the hull of the space-station. A hovering worker in a space-suit was changing one of the lights previously flickering. Sid’s father was calling out on Sydney from the depths of Sydney’s heart. Calling out on her from the dark abyss of death.

“Sydney was your name!” Sydney’s father said suddenly, “Sydney for the Australian capital!“It surely is.” Sydney said to herself.

* * *

The years came and went. The young girl became an adolescent. She was deeply into certain clothes. Rare hair-styles and the making of white powder. It was not a choice of “being gothic” or “being dark”. It rather came natural to her, a natural choice leading to a sense of completeness. She couldn’t forget the ways of the past. Her mother had died a couple of years earlier. This was expected. Due to over-consumption of bad nutrition. A tragic event ending the twisted ways of Sid’s childhood. Sydney had to live alone later from government funds.

One day Sid stumbled onto Reynold Montgomery again. It was time for a futuristic conference. He just had noticed her. And the teenager girl remarked that she had seen him before.

She said: “I had to be seven years old the first time I saw you and I didn’t want to leave the space-harbour that time.”

“Oh.” He said, “I have a faint memory of it.”

The man had aged pretty well. In fact, he looked just like Sid had remembered him: A blue jacket and brown trousers with creased areas. A hint of a smile. A thin moustache and the smell of fresh aftershave.

“But do you know of the ways of the futuristic conference?” Reynold Montgomery asked.

“The futuristic conference?” Sydney asked.

“It’s about the fate of the human race.” Montgomery said, “About the ways of the different colonies.”

Montgomery looked upon the black clothes of the beautiful adolescent. Having white clusters and blue decorations. Looking much like a young princess but a torn one. A princess shining with the suspicion of defeat. Montgomery was just a little surprised that the young girl had noticed him and decided to escort Sid to the conference hall. They entered the huge hall and were met with the different face expressions from the conference leaders.

“The conference is about the divergence of the human race.” Montgomery said, “About the different possibilities and their obvious limitations.”

“A way of thinking of the future?” Sydney asked.

“Exactly.” Montgomery said.

The whole event was audiovisual. Even with smells from the different moons of Uranus and Neptune. With the utopian/dystopian flare of “alien” culture. People had diverged from future earth (Which was extraordinary polluted) to explore new modes of living. This was 2223 AD. With diverse culture building on different ideas on the existing habitual worlds. With different politics, economic systems, ecological thought and much more. Sid was taken back by the sense-experience of the audiovisual demonstrations. Also recognizing the smells as truly alien. Proving that humankind had become something of a space-race. Some individuals looking more like robots than actual people. Others looking like a cross breed between humans and certain animals.

“But this is just a dull display!” Montgomery said, “You have to visit these worlds by yourself!”

The conference went on in a pretty chaotic manner. New concepts were introduced. The conference leaders were talking about new possibilities but also doing it with a sense of dread. Much was introduced but no speaker really seemed very optimistic about the whole event. They had torn voices, worried manners and pointed out countless problems.

“What is the real problem?” Sid asked Montgomery in a soft tone.

“The main problem is nihilism.” Montgomery said. “So many options. But no clear direction. No one knows about the true solution for the human race. Not even in theory. That’s why we endlessly debate things in these futuristic conferences. Just a matter of speaking really. We truly believe in nothing.”

* * *

The following month was like a black vortex. A black vortex of energy giving rise to new moods and questions. Sydney was pushing on the conference man. She wanted to learn more about these worlds and trying to unmask the real reason for the negativity. Asking questions about the validity of nihilism, the cloud of unknowing. She walked with Montgomery on lonely nights. Eating breakfast with him in silent hours. Even watching violent sports games with him in a local restaurant. It was too much for the conference leader. Almost as if the adolescent girl were trying to use him as a replacement for her dead parents! Lacking direction in life, lacking purpose, lacking the knowledge to transcend her adolescent variant of nihilism.

“We have to break our conversation.” Montgomery suddenly said. And Sid would never see the conference leader again.

The following night Sid was walking the shiny corridors of the space-station to stop by an elevator for a descent into the interiors of the space-station. But as she pushed the button no light was lit and no door was opened. She waited for several minutes. She waited and soon gave up. And as she left she was walking away with normal steps to suddenly hear a sound in the distance. She looked around and saw a couple of children coming out of the elevator door. She looked at them. With just a sudden glance. And she turned to walk to them but as the children saw her they turned away and walked back into the elevator. The door closed and the elevator disappeared down to a lower level. And Sydney pushed the button again but no light was lit. So she just stood there as a pale ghost. Was this nihilism? The belief that she actually hadn’t seen the children exit the elevator? The belief that her senses had fooled her? She couldn’t believe it. So she pushed the button again but the elevator was completely dead.

In an instant she was back again at the surface of Mars. Walking on the surface of the dead planet. The planet where her father had died years ago. This was after the death of her father. She was just walking there. Using a space-suit to dig into the remains of her father’s exploded jet. She was digging in the red sand. She was searching for life. But the black imprint of past flames had sucked the bodies out of the actual Jet. Propelling them onto the ground. Onto the red dust. To be swept sideways by the countless dust storms. Eating their way into the human flesh.

Sydney was terrified. She ran for her life up to the interior of her lonely room. The same room where she had lived during her entire childhood. People had come and gone. Voices had echoed onto the lonely bed and she was sometimes struck by great screaming. But she had never felt so insecure. So doubtful. So taken back by the premise of an unknown future. Of dialectics by nihilistic conference leaders. Of a silent mother. Of a dying father not even knowing her daughters name.

She left the space-station the next day.

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