Sherlock Holmes

Of late I've begun converting my old Echoes documents into LaTeX, like I've been writing Identity. It's pretty cool, to see how the style of writing has evolved over really just the last year and change. I feel like a much better writer now than when I began Echoes, and in part, that validates my efforts in writing it, even if, at times, I wonder why I wrote something for such a small audience to enjoy, but I believe it was worth doing.

But anyway, I saw Sherlock Holmes on Monday.

Initially, I have to share some of the critique of the film with other critics: this Sherlock Holmes seems more like the melding of the classic character with the modern action film. It feels modern, down to the confrontation on the bridge, with pieces coming apart and Holmes and Blackwood in mortal danger. But though this adaptation feels contemporary in that way, it also feels faithful to the character of Holmes, to the characters in total. Plunged into this sort of affair, you never feel for a moment that what Holmes is doing is out of place or unusual (for who he is). Holmes would attack the apparent supernatural with logic, and no doubt, how he sees through Blackwood's charade is momentous.

That said, some of my criticisms must still stand. The character of Irene Adler feels very much tacked on to the film; I dare say there's no chemistry between McAdams and Downey, Jr., but that may be because McAdams tried to do a lot with a role that didn't make a lot of sense. Another thing that struck me was that, while I kept up with the film, the whole of the mystery really didn't keep me enthralled. We know who did it. How he's done it is of almost no consequence, and who he's going to kill next isn't even a question until the last act of the film. For that reason, while entertaining and better than most films, I feel like there's still something a little off about Sherlock Holmes.

Read More...

Summary only...

Avatar

I've been meaning to do this for the last two days, having been waylaid by Christmas festivities and several attempts at installing Windows 7 on the laptop. So, while I see that "Expanding Windows files" is 87% complete, let's write a blog post, eh?

I've made some good progress on the second act of chapter two; I think this chapter's going to pan out after all. But let's talk about Avatar.

Avatar reminds me how film and writing are different. In writing, you might be able to get away with the same sort of plot, but you'd have to rely on different techniques and skills. Avatar, in my opinion, totally blows people away visually, and thus, it can get away with a plot that's entertaining but somewhat predictable. If you disagree, was there ever any doubt that Jake would come to join the natives and band against his human brethren? No, there wasn't really; he didn't, we'd have a much different story (and indeed, this could've been a shocking swerve, so to speak). When what characters do is predictable, what they come to believe, how their viewpoints change and evolve, must be compelling, and I don't think Avatar did that. We see what Jake does, mostly out of necessity, yet I have to think a human being would have more qualms about defying his people, and while Jake chooses a side and we see that, it still doesn't ring true to me. I feel like we're watching an image, a reflection, when there could be something much deeper going on.

But, as I said, Avatar is stunning, and I would take no credit away here. The technology is impressive. The presentation is absolutely amazing. To see a Na'vi towering over humans and seemingly interacting with them, to see Zoe Saldana interact with Worthington in such meaningful ways through an artificial interface is all the more telling. Let there be no doubt: Avatar is a novel feat of technology, technology that lets the director's imagination better translate to film. And despite my criticisms above, I think the film did have some of those components I spoke of, just in more subtle ways. Jake does say he doesn't know what is dream or real anymore. You can see his legs atrophy as he neglects his human body in favor of the avatar he uses. Perhaps what I was looking for really is there, and the filmmakers wisely show it without hammering on it. Or, perhaps, they tell the viewer that this is happening without really examining Jake's dissatisfaction with his human body or humanity, only glossing over it. It's hard to say. I do think it's fair to state that Avatar's main point isn't that dissonance or any other serious examination of the human mind (interesting though that would be). Rather, the theme comes out in the Tree of Souls, in the vast network that connects all life on Pandora. Perhaps this is seen as a metaphor for environmentalism, but I think it's valid: what we get from the Earth must eventually be paid back, whether through our bodies as they decay or something else. Eventually, the Earth will run out of whatever we take from it, even if what we take is enough to last a thousand or a million years. It's only through this network that Jake can live in his avatar forever after; it's only but for those connections that the animals come out to save the na'vi from humanity.

I don't think this film aspired for such high meaning, but it does contain a smattering of it. Enough to gel with the sheer power of its visuals, at least. I wonder, though, how critics will receive this film in 10 or 20 or 50 years, when the technology they have far surpasses what we have today. I suppose we'll have to wait until then.

Read More...

Summary only...

Identity 02 Act 1 drafted

Well, for the moment I seem to have found a rhythm, having finished the first act in rather satisfactory fashion. I'm hoping I can have the chapter done by mid January (or even better, before the end of winter break, but that's probably optimistic given I have 3 more acts to finish).

Read More...

Summary only...

Progress, Dreams, and 2012

I don't have much progress to report regarding Identity; I've been rather bogged down in the first act of chapter two among other real life issues (finals, etc.).  I do think I'm getting somewhere now, but as always, we'll see.

An interesting dream I had last night, though, may provide an idea for a story (original) at some point.  The idea was a commune of foreign nationals in China, collaborating to get information out of the PRC.  They're led by a man, an idealist, a visionary, and this attracts the main character, a woman, who's taken by his charisma to enter the scheme.  These rogue reporters meet in an apartment and have a complex technological setup to get around blocks, but increased government scrutiny leads to a raid on the building, one that the reporters cannot resist, and when they make a scheme for escape, the leader betrays them all--it turns out he's an agent of the Chinese government, trained to infiltrate and impersonate, and everything he's done here has been a lie.  Our main character escapes, however, and...

Well, maybe there's more to it.  Dreams are incomplete, after all.  I have visions of the main character returning to the building to try to get information, but we must remember, a dream doesn't craft things the way a writer needs to have it crafted.  A dream gives ammunition, the creative imagery a writer needs to bring life to the events we write, but a dream by itself won't necessarily be on point or message.  You have to have a purpose, I believe; it keeps the story focused.

Anyway, the other day, I saw 2012.

I won't bother with the long summary of the film (it's almost 3 hours after all), but even in an epic disaster film, we should look at the contrivances a writer uses and ask if they're needed and just to maintain suspense, if they're natural and a consequence of previous characterization or internal logic, or if they simply push the story forward illogically.

I'll give the filmmakers some points: anybody could be planning a trip to Yellowstone National Park, a region of known geological phenomena, and it'd be natural for a conspiracy theorist who believes the world is melting to go there, to want to witness it first-hand. That Jackson works for someone who has the fortune to buy a ticket on an ark isn't that far-fetched, either. As usual, contrivances are more forgivable, even expected, at the beginning of a story. We don't have any characterization to contradict them. Internal logic hasn't been established yet.

It's the midgame of the story that begins to unravel. We know the earth's crust will begin to float atop hotter liquid mantle, that it can shift by any rotation. This has the curious effect that Wisconsin houses the magnetic south pole. It also shifts landmasses such that our heroes' jet can reach spitting distance of the arks instead of ditching in water and being totally screwed. Convenient. Jackson's employer just so happens to get stuck in Vegas, where Jackson has to land too. Again, convenient (and also seeming to serve no purpose except give both groups a second pilot. The president chooses to stay behind to satisfy some noble drive when his leadership will then be missed on the Ark (as the vice-president conveniently dies too), leaving command of the Ark to a royal prick that leads to a final confrontation. The scientist who discovered the catastrophe is (admittedly, deliberately) left behind, but he dies in a tsunami that nobody saw coming, that moves up the time to impact by over an hour. For that matter, anybody wonder why the cell phones still work?

I enjoyed this movie (yes, I enjoy most of the movies I see, regardless of the criticism I post here). Yes, these oddities detract. What detracted more, though, what made this a simple piece of entertainment and not a work of art was the lack of pertinent theme. We're supposed to believe that the point of this movie is to be human and show compassion, even if it risks annihilation, but this viewpoint is only in passing juxtaposed against its opposite, the desire to save any section of humanity no matter the cost. That motive is embodied in pretty much only one man, a man portrayed to be a prick and totally unsympathetic. There is no depravity here, no signs of true desperation, no struggle not just for the survival of the human race but the continuation of its soul. That's why, as entertaining I find this movie, it's not wholly satisfying. I know that's probably not what the intent was, either, but still, I feel like the moral conflict, while set up, just didn't matter for most of the story.

Read More...

Summary only...

Identity 02 outlined

I've finished the outline for "The Village," a chapter in four acts. As always, things are subject to change, but for interested parties, the full outline is below the read more link. I like to do this as a before and after exercise, not only for myself but for prospective writers.

Spoilers below!

Ranma seeks escape from the den of the Ki Sorcerers or to understand the secret at the heart of the village.

Teaser

Sindoor receives news of Captain Wuya's arrival. She ventures from the Sorcerer's Den, consorting with her people, who struggle to keep their emotions in check with the failing Sieve. Sindoor greets Wuya at the outskirts, and the dour captain has only one thing to say: "Saffron."

Act 1

Ranma awakens in a tent, greeted by Kohl. Kohl informs him that he is to be held until he can meet with Sindoor. Kohl stubbornly refuses to tell Ranma anything about the village or why they took him, but he says that Ranma is free to leave the tent as he likes, so long as he doesn't leave the village.

At that, Ranma takes off, surprised and mystified by the wonders of the village, of a people who can manipulate objects, even whole buildings, only with their minds. He wishes idly to learn of these arts, but the villagers are intensely xenophobic. Only from a few can he even gather information, with vague and shrouded references to a Sieve. Unable to get further intelligence, Ranma looks for a way out instead, and he discovers that the road out of town is lightly guarded. Brazenly, he makes a run for it, bowling over the two guards, but as he makes his way from the village, the road seems to turn back on itself. He's in wide open space, but the realm is circular. He's trapped in here, and to his shock, Wuya and her men capture him easily. She decks him for his escape attempt and drags him back to the village.

Act 2

With four armed guards, Kohl escorts Ranma to the palace, a monumental pagoda spire that towers over the landscape. Only through the magic of the blockers does the village escape detection or sight from outside. Ranma is awed, to be sure: if these people can build a structure like this in less than a year, they're formidable indeed. How can he get out of here?

Ranma and Kohl take the long, winding route to the top of the spire, observing the training of the Sorcerer Guard on one of the rings of the structure. Ranma wonders where the "bitch" is, to which Kohl answers that the captain is very busy and Finch, her second, customarily leads the guard in her absence. Ranma also observes the blockers, a group of souls who pay little attention to the outside world. At last, they reach Sindoor's chambers, and the monarch greets Ranma warmly, lamenting that they have so little contact with the outside world. Sindoor explains that she reformed this village as a paradise, a place where the villagers could practice their arts without interference from the outside, in perfect peace and harmony, free of the dangerous impulses that control lesser men. She explains that they've had run-ins with people who "deny their true form," who embrace the animalistic impulses within. Such people, in their tradition, must be punished, though Wuya acted outside her bounds in detaining an outsider, a remark that Kohl chafes at. When questioned about Saffron, however, Ranma admits nothing, and so, in private conference, Sindoor advises Kohl: take him to Tilaka.

Act 3

As Kohl escorts Ranma out, he explains that few villagers even have the honor about to be bestowed upon him. Kohl takes Ranma to Tilaka's chambers at the top of the spire. Tilaka appears like an ordinary boy, perhaps 18 or 19, with short, dark hair. He's tall and thin and greets Ranma warmly. He explains he seldom has visitors, usually only Sindoor herself and Kohl. Upon prompting, he explains, as best he can, his function in society as Sieve: there are unwanted energies that poison and cloud the minds of men and sorcerer alike. They prohibit the full unlocking of ki-based power. The sieve absorbs these energies and bears the burden for society, so that the village may be safe from them.

Initially, Ranma is not interested in this story, looking instead for some way to escape, but as the conversation persists, he notices something's very wrong with how Tilaka behaves and talks. The boy is unstable, prone to fits of emotion, sadness, anger, or sudden joy. Soon, Ranma forgets his original purpose in seeking escape avenues and inquiries how Tilaka became this Sieve thing in the first place. Tilaka tells the story of how he and trained with another in their childhood, a person he only calls Crow. Certain things are forbidden in training; the Sieve is supposed to protect people from themselves, but Tilaka and Crow started to violate these sanctions, and soon they were discovered. More than that, the Sieve failed as a result of them, and the Sieve demands replacement. When a Sieve begins to fail, the weight of the energies he's absorbed saturates him; he can handle no more, and those energies run free. It's only been for the last week that Tilaka found himself unable to absorb them, but from time to time, he feels the pull. He explains they're looking for the one who broke him, the one powerful enough that he felt it, even as far as the spring ground. Tilaka looks curiously at Ranma, touches him, and begins dredging up memories of Jusendou. ``I see you know these energies too,'' says Tilaka. Tilaka engenders more of these feelings in Ranma, until Ranma finally snaps and attacks, spurring Kohl to intervene. Brutally, they drag Ranma away.

Act 4

To interrogation. Wuya insists to know about Saffron, about why Ranma knows of him, about what Ranma knows, but Ranma is insistent. He can't tell them he killed Saffron; they'll kill him, surely. There has to be some way out, some other tactic he can use to bide time until he can escape, but he can scarcely think of it. Instead, to escape from the pain of torture, he dreams while waking, dreams that Akane is there with him, kissing his wounds, telling him it's going to be all right. He puts all his focus on her, even as Wuya breaks his pinky bone right before his eyes.

At last, the torture ceases, and Ranma dresses his wounds with what supplies he has available. It was a mistake to come here alone, he realizes, without any support or friends to rely on. Even if Mousse and Ryouga weren't the most steady traveling companions, even if at times they wanted him dead for holding the affections of girls they loved, they were capable, and they watched each other's backs. At the least, he would not wish Akane here.

He realizes he's not being watched. The whole village has gathered for some ceremony at the pond down the main road. Ranma considers escaping, but he knows that he won't get far. But Tilaka did mention this ceremony, and maybe it will help him understand the enemy he faces, why these people are so screwed up.

He ventures to the pond, hiding behind the other buildings. There's chanting in Chinese, which he doesn't understand. The villagers hold torches. One by one, they dunk a bundle in the pond. Only at the end does Ranma hear the crying of the babies. Now he begins to put the pieces together. They curse the babies on purpose, so they never know what they used to be. They curse themselves as part of this paradise, whatever it is, but it's not. It's wrong, and this really sets Ranma off. He looks to the castle and forms a plan: he'll go in, find the blockers, and show them their true forms, whatever those forms are. He bets, guesses, that if they're cursed as children, they don't even know what their other bodies are like. Why should they? How often are people doused in hot water?

He storms the castle, barges his way through and gets hot water for himself. Now a man, he can blast his way inside, and while the blockers try to confuse him, he knows, he can sense their presence. He flings the bucket of hot water blindly, hitting some, breaking their combined concentration, but...they're still human. Tilaka arrives, explaining that Ranma still doesn't understand: only the bodies they're born with have the full potential to manipulate ki, but this comes at a cost: a cost in inability to fully control oneself. Even their cursed forms benefit from the control of the sieve, a control that they no longer have. He tried to tell him this, but Ranma wouldn't listen. Tilaka tries to bring out strong emotions in Ranma again, to make him understand what he means, but Wuya and Sindoor arrive. Tilaka is injured in the battle, which sparks Wuya to cripple Ranma, pin him under oppressive, heavy ki. At last, Ranma makes a bargain: he knows who they're looking for--Saffron--and how to defeat him, how to bypass all the defenses of Mount Phoenix.

Aftermath. Ranma begins training with the Sorcerer Guard, under Wuya's stark gaze, waiting for the chance that he can use to escape and warn someone about these people and what they're doing. Wuya, however, heads to the top of the spire, to Tilaka's chambers. She has the guards take a break and cares for Tilaka's wounds. Tilaka assures her that he can learn to subjugate his own "energies" once more. It is his duty, after all, but Wuya will have none of it. He's suffered enough for their people; it's time an outsider bore this burden. He needs to feel for himself again. "This is what got us in trouble before," says Tilaka, but Wuya doesn't care.

After a time, she emerges, facing Sindoor. Sindoor questions Wuya's actions; even Sindoor is not blind to what goes on in her spire. Wuya justifies her actions, but Sindoor is not interested in explanations. She too prefers the idea of an outsider maintaining their paradise, but not for the same reasons. Sindoor admonishes her, all the same, reminding Wuya that she has duties, addressing her as "Captain Kohl." She hands him a pot of water, and Kohl reasserts himself. The human race is born cursed, thinks Kohl, and it is only through these blessed forms that we can rise above the feelings that drive us to sin.

Read More...

Summary only...

Identity 01 - In the Cold Rain

Identity chapter 1, "In the Cold Rain," is now on FFN.

For a preview of chapter two, click the read more link below. Or check out the commentary for this chapter, under the author's notes tag.

Coming soon: "The Village." Ranma and is brought to the village of the Ki Sorcerers, a powerful group of warriors led by the cool and mysterious Sindoor, but while he struggles to escape this den of magicians, Ranma discovers a dark secret behind the stoic warrior life of the sorcerers, a secret Sindoor and her men will do anything to protect.

Read More...

Summary only...

Identity notes and commentary: 01 - "In the Cold Rain"

"Notes and commentary" gives some added context to the chapters and the process of writing them, somewhat in summary of the experiences I relate from my blog here. There may be spoilers in the commentary that follows; hence, on the front page it is hidden with a "read more" link.

What I will say, though, is "first chapter, woot?"


Something you might glean from my blog here is that I was "finished" with a draft of this chapter in July.

It's not exactly August right now. Or September. Or October. So what happened? That's a complicated question, and there's no simple answer. In this, I think my desire to shortcut the outlining process failed me, although my faith in an outline that is constantly updated and sometimes disregarded has inspired me to leave it somewhat deliberately unfinished for this reason. There's no accounting for further development, after all, and I hoped that I could save myself some unnecessary work by broad-stroking a lot of the details. Perhaps that was wrong.

Still, I think I attribute most of the difficulties with this chapter to depth, or lack thereof. One thing I wanted to do in Identity was explore character depth a lot more fully and write out and connect scenes as much as possible (some of my more normal, choppy style can be seen in act 5). Flow, I figured, must be important, and preserving the flow and integrity of a story was something I felt my writing lacked. In short, I was afraid my writing read too fast and, in so doing, actually read slow (I did read that somewhere, anyway, that more detail makes it fast, paradoxically). Writing is complicated, though, and so simple intentions seldom translate well.

On the whole, though, I think I succeeded. Compared to the first draft, the depth and complexity of characters is much improved, particular in characters not central to the chapter, such as Ukyo and Shampoo. Indeed, in the first draft, Shampoo didn't even bother to attack Akane, and Ukyo was just smug as ever about her relationship with Ranma, in part to assert it and defend it, but still, there was nothing so ghastly as the attack in act 2 (the whole act I created from nothing after the first draft--originally there was just a scuffle, nothing more). Some might say this "improvement" is all negative. All I can say is that more focus on all the fiancees will feature in chapter 3.

And right now someone's going, "But your chapter 1 took 4 months and 30 thousand words!" I do find that 30k mark somewhat...excessive, but numbers shouldn't be a deal-breaker by themselves.


Admittedly, there were a lot of things that bothered me about this chapter in the first draft. It takes place over two days. Even that doesn't change in the final version, and while that struck me as fast, it also didn't serve any purpose to drag it out. Such would only dilute the strong emotions everyone experiences.

The second thing I didn't like was how Ukyo came off: smug and assertive really without redeeming quality. Someone might be going, "No, that's your current version," but it really isn't. You may not feel it as immediately due to not being in her point of view (don't worry, you will be), but Ukyo's a character in conflict. She doesn't come right out and say she wanted Akane dead. I think most of the time, you ask her if she did or does and she'll vehemently deny it, and not just to protect herself, either. Ranma has to catch her on it. She doesn't like that she felt that way, and in context of her promise to him, it's an untenable state to want Akane dead, for any purpose.

The third thing was how Akane came off. A major aim of the revision was trying to make her descent into old paranoia more realistic and logical to the reader. Some might say it's not logical at all and that she would never accuse Ranma of going behind her back to romance the other girls. To them, I say, "What series have you been reading or watching?" That's exactly Akane, and we see in her how she's tried to battle against those tendencies, tried to make herself perfect (as she conceives it) for Ranma...and failed to do so. Her need to have Ranma's confidence is just an incarnation of a greater need: to be his equal or to be at parity with him. To be a partner, not a subordinate. In some ways, this is impossible for her. She can never be the martial artist Ranma is. In others, she only wishes to uphold what society sees as her role. That is something worth exploring, and I do want to put under the magnifying glass that dissonance between what her expected role is and who she wants to be (and how that's changed due to Ranma), but that will have to feature later.

On the whole, though, the chapter is rather strange, in the sense that it's a lot of time spent on dynamics that, without giving too much away, won't be developed a lot over the course of this first book (out of three, mind), yet the mysterious enemy who's taken Jusenkyo will come closer to front and center, rather than playing a satellite role in each of the 5 acts of this chapter. That was actually a major barrier to me committing to do it this way, but I in the end, though the plot may not come to bear fully on these relationships for a while yet, they are important setup for the events that follow. They give context to why Ranma would leave Nerima when he could've done so many times before.

Or maybe I just didn't want to give up Ranma using the Shishi Hokoudan. I changed a lot about this chapter, from the sorcerers coming to Nerima (unworkable; why would they come?) to first-person in Akane's POV (which would've been really bold but really, really hard for an ensemble piece like this...will be) to 18 other things. I even considered writing Eclipse, my Star Trek idea, or The Color Red, which, if you know The Bitter End, well...let's just say Zen's story was my second introduction to Ranma 1/2, my first being tvtropes, and while I disagree with some of his character interpretation (okay, a lot), the issues explored are real and central to humanity. That's the key to any good story. In Zen's piece (because I really don't want to have to type out more italics right now), it's a battle against rage that consumes you. In mine...well, I'll hold out on that one. For now.

On the whole, though, I'm really pleased with how this chapter saved itself.  I feel that the expansion it underwent is natural and really served to give the conflicts meaning.  That's all an author could ever want.

Read More...

Summary only...

Identity notes and commentary - General

I thought it would be handy to make some general notes and remarks about the story for things that aren't strictly related to the first chapter.

My introduction to Ranma 1/2 came on tvtropes, a website for documenting (and deriving massive amounts of amusement) from the conventions and tools of fiction writing, not just television. Across many pages, I read anecdotes about this anime and manga that, in their words, "defies simple explanation, but one can approximate its general gist as 'martial arts/urban low fantasy/slapstick comedy/sex farce/romance...' yeah." And sometime last spring, I finally caved in.

I caved in by clicking a link to The Bitter End.

Now, even at the time, I knew there were things exaggerated, perhaps even to epic proportions, but to Zen's credit, what he did in terms of taking a slightly more serious look at the series and trying to expound upon logical consequences, is what I try to do as well. I don't agree with some of his interpretations; indeed, I think there's plenty of room to both praise and condemn all of the characters. That's why I find the series interesting.

Eventually, I found my way to uploaded episodes of the anime and fan-translated scans of the manga (the New Ranma Project). I understand that, for these "scanlations," some of the exact translations are not perfect, but this is largely the only basis I have to work with. Where detail is not needed, broad strokes are appropriate. Where it is, however, that's where I go to.

My aim with Identity perhaps too ambitious: an attempt to wrap up the manga while having a significant plot of its own. In that respect, like I say in the notes for the first chapter, that chapter may not be representative of the whole, but there is much, much more to Ranma than just his relationships with his girls. While that conflict is very central to the series, it strikes me as a way to develop a greater dissonance between who people are and who they want to be. That applies to everyone--Ranma, Akane, Shampoo, Ukyou--and to other character that will be involved or introduced.

The story is, at this moment, planned to be a trilogy. Each book has 8-10 chapters (no, I hope they won't all be as long as chapter 1). The first book, though I didn't say it on the chapter uploaded to FFN, is called Tribe of the Ki Sorcerers. Each chapter is subdivided into sections (I call them acts) which are numbered and meant to, by themselves, advance the story significantly while still being part of a greater whole. Chapter breaks in this way are much more significant, analogous to something like an episode in a series or miniseries. This structure I derived from television, from Babylon 5 in particular, being "a novel for television," but I understand the differences in the media, in what you can and can't do. Still the structure remains, though I can't say how it will morph or evolve over the course of the novel. I just came up with it partway through my last project, after all.

Most acts have several scenes; each is typically told only from one character's point of view (rarely, though, like the end of chapter 1, act 4, I will switch POV's when the scene needed is very brief). While narrative voice and character's thoughts are ordinarily separate (quoted thoughts in italics), I may still summarize thoughts without quoting them word for word. Such should not be confused with absolute truth as the narrator sees it but with truth as the character sees it; hence, the narrator may say the moon is made of cheese, as long as it's really what the character perceives.

There are a couple other dry, esoteric conventions I want to make note of. To characters who know his curse, Ranma is usually male in narrative, even though a change of pronoun may be used for emphasis or effect. Sometimes, I remind that Ranma is in female form, usually by calling him "the pigtailed girl" or something similar. Names of Japanese origin have associated macrons for long vowels in romanization, and simple honorifics are used (but not the extensive system of semi-familial titles, like onee-chan for one's older sister, which Akane uses for Nabiki and Kasumi). I chose this convention to reduce the number of opaque Japanese words appearing in narrative that, while usually clear from context, may still be jarring to an English audience. The other honorifics stand, however, because I felt the indications of levels of respect was too important to drop. Akane usually affixes -kun to Ryouga's name, for example, and if she were to stop, that would be highly indicative. The system of honorifics serves to remind where different characters stand with each other. Finally, for unrelated reasons, I choose to preserve Japanese name order as well. It's possible that, to indicate dialogue occurs in Chinese, I may transcribe some of the Amazon's names less loosely, but as yet I am undecided.

That does it for this quick introduction. Now for the chapter 1 notes.

Read More...

Summary only...

Is it done again? We'll find out.

Identity 01 can now go to revision.

Let's hope I don't have to go back and torch it like the last few versions. I actually don't think it will. Unlike the first draft I completed in July (!), I feel fairly good about this. And this time, granted, I don't feel pressured to get chapter 2 outlined and started before I do so.

Though I might. We'll see.

Read More...

Summary only...

Working on Act 5

Somewhat hastily, I finished Act 4 last night, after a lovely weekend of the second physics GRE administration and a performance at a church service on Sunday. We're now in the home stretch, I think, with just Act 5 to go and then a couple rounds of tweaking to get the chapter ready. I'm hopeful I'll be happy with the end result this time, but as usual, one can never know.

Read More...

Summary only...

Identity 01 Act 4

I've collapsed acts 1 and 2 into a single act, so I'm working now on what would've been act 5 (but is now 4). I've been consolidating and removing breaks between scenes significantly and lengthening the new scenes that I write. I'm hoping that it makes the whole story flow better, but there's also the risk that I'm just filling time with useless...stuff. I'm not really sure. With the last act (or two) to go, I'm already at 18,000 words. Not really sure what to make of that, either.

Perhaps with these longer acts I can revisit the idea of posting each act individually.

Read More...

Summary only...

Working.

So I've been busy somewhat. Over the months since I finished the first draft of "In the Cold Rain," I've vacillated. I've gone back, tried to outline from scratch, change the ideas, work on other ideas (I did, as a matter of fact, make some work on Eclipse, and I could stand to do some work on The Color Red). Throughout this experience, I've felt I couldn't see the future clearly, that no matter what I did, I wasn't happy with what I felt might evolve organically from the story because it didn't fit the constraints I had on the story. And there are constraints. As a continuation piece, Identity must focus a lot on Ranma, I feel, which caused me to reject some ideas I had. I tried to make it overall tighter, but each idea was no clearer than the last.

In the end, I've decided to go with what I've got. Not the first draft--I do have improvements I can make to that--but the original outline I will largely stick to, until I reach a point where I can improve it and not merely run around in circles.

So that's where we stand, kids. Identity 01, "In the Cold Rain." Now working on act 3 of 5. Here's to the future.

Read More...

Summary only...

District 9

So I've still been working on Identity. I will say I'd hoped this process would go more quickly, but I do have an idea. The latest approach is trying to get in everybody's heads and better portray the conflicts that emerge from all these people fighting for love and acceptance. It's...dangerous. It's more similar to what I did in Echoes, but there's danger in a lot of POVs changing, which is why I hadn't tried it until now.

But, in other news, I saw District 9 today.

District 9 introduces the audience quickly to its premise: that aliens were stranded on Earth in 1982 above Johannesburg, and ever since, they've been hemmed into a slum, kept under the militaristic jurisdiction of Multinational United (MNU). The beginning of the film takes place as MNU is about to evict all the aliens and send them to a more remote camp, District 10. What we see is fairly standard fare here, with MNU naturally oppressing the aliens, giving flimsy legal justification for their actions and shooting unarmed aliens for relatively slight provocations. The protagonist, Wikus van der Merwe, is in charge of this operation, and despite being a rather odd, unintimidating character, he threatens one alien with taking his son to child services if he doesn't sign the eviction notice.

It's not until the effects of a run-in with alien technology manifest themselves that the story really begins. Wikus is slowly turning into an alien, and since alien technology requires alien DNA to work, he's the subject of intense study. Doctors stab him to see if he feels his transforming arm like he would a human appendage. Soldiers force him to fire alien weapons and stun him with stun guns when he refuses and asks about his wife. He even begs to shoot more pig carcasses when they bring out an alien and, under the stun gun, he splatters the alien over the firing range and all over himself.

District 9 does a good job of not going into "anvillicious" territory. Wikus is not portrayed as being fervently pro-alien now that MNU is after him for his biology, ready to dissect him. His motivations are fairly selfish, as he betrays his alien contact, "Christopher," when Christopher insists on going back to the homeworld with their fuel and save his people from medical experiments, rather than simply cure Wikus of his transformation. Wikus does, however, mention that District 10 is worse than 9, that it's little more than a concentration camp, and that Christopher and his son shouldn't want to go there at all.

In addition, Wikus's reaction to his transformation is realistic, as he begins to panic when he loses fingernails and teeth and tries to "cure" himself by chopping off an alien finger.

What turned me off this movie, though, was the incredible amount of gore. Wikus's transformation is indeed a sight to behold--his arm is a bloody, mangled mess as the alien appendages manifest themselves (and later over his back and chest). Alien weapons splatter human blood and remains in 360 degrees. The movie is nauseating to watch; then again, this may have been the point.

Furthermore, Christopher's refusal to cure Wikus before leaving seems contrived and a shortcut, as it gives the excuse to have the rest of the climax in the plot. Why not cure him then deposit him on Earth and be on your way? The movie offers no answer to this question, and to me, it is a glaring hole.

All in all, though, despite the desire not to eat I came out with, I enjoyed District 9, but it did not surprise me with the messages it came out with. Does it really take aliens for us to know our own brutality and lust for technology? In that respect, the shock of this movie is all in the presentation; I felt no great epiphany leaving the theater, and for a movie as ambitious as this one was, that, to me, represents a small failure.

Read More...

Summary only...

Back to the drawing board

I wrote my first draft of Identity 01 rather fast, and I'd put it away to give it some time to breathe, if you will, but my thoughts over the time since then have been increasingly unhappy with the chapter. All-in-all, it's still...unfocused. I'd written it mostly from Ranma's perspective, but writing it with him as the POV character had significant problems. Overall, I feel it forced the chapter to be too slow, as he had to come to realize certain things as a result of what happened, as opposed to a faster, more natural approach--where he reacted from the wedding from the outset.

I'm trying again. The current idea is first-person, from Akane's POV, perhaps for the whole trilogy. We'll see.

Read More...

Summary only...

Identity 01 draft complete

I've finished a draft of "In the Cold Rain," clocking in at 74 pages and 13.8k words in 4 acts. There are some things I want to fix, and putting it down for at least a week to give it a once-over seems like good practice. I'm going to start outlining chapter two, "The Village."

Perhaps I approach writing in a mechanical sort of fashion, but I've been concerned lately with two of Ingermanson's suggested techniques: that of scene and sequel (where any given scene either comprises a goal-conflict-disaster pattern or a reaction-dilemma-decision pattern in response) and motivation-response units (MRUs). Even now I'm still trying to find a balance in these techniques, whether to apply them prior to writing, in an outlining context, or after, in a revision context. Since I care little for revision, the former might be more useful to me, but I need to learn to revise better anyway. It's just a matter of, well, not half-doing it, I suppose.

Read More...

Summary only...

Work on Identity Commencing

Hey people. I've finished the bulk of the outlining for Identity. Since I went a little nuts not having anything to actually write, I've taken a slight shortcut and started work on the prologue and one (which I'm calling, for the moment, "In the Cold Rain") while I finish detailed chapter outlines of the other (at this moment) twenty-seven chapters.

This should be fun.

Read More...

Summary only...

The Snowflake

Good morning, folks. It's been a while. I've been working on my outline for Identity, which, in retrospect, I realize I haven't said much about, only mentioned obliquely. What I used to outline Echoes as an experiment was Randy Ingermanson's Snowflake Method, a ten-step process to fleshing out a novel. Overall, I think the process is sound, but I did have to adapt it somewhat to my structural style. As I've mentioned, I write each chapter like it's own story, a structure influenced by my experience with Babylon 5, an epic television series where most episodes moved forward an overall plot yet still managed to be stories that could be understood (to varying degrees) on their own. His Dark Materials is what got me writing, but Babylon 5 has been the basic model on which I base my novels.

For my part, I think the structure has some advantages. It means the plot is fast, as each chapter brings about a new conflict (or an extension of an old one). Furthermore, each chapter has some stand-alone quality that is very well-suited to the serial nature of work-in-progress posting. The Snowflake Method doesn't naturally accommodate this structure, though. I found with Echoes that I was stuck on chapter two (yes, out of twenty) with a chapter outline that simply wasn't well-developed, couldn't stand on its own. In part, that was my fault, not realizing what was needed to truly structure the chapter, but at the same time, I grew comfortable with re-outlining each chapter as I came to it. Even then, however, it wasn't a perfect process: I wrote three or four outlines for chapter twenty, none of them satisfactory really until in the end I kind of winged it and got through with Echoes at last. Maybe in that sense outlining isn't going to be a perfect process anyway, something that must be iterated to really arrive at a story. Who knows.

But, I do recommend the Snowflake Method. Right now I'm on the "one-page outline" stage, where you take a book and outline it in paragraphs. I've expanded it somewhat, for this is to be a trilogy, so it's really going to be three pages. And there are more steps beyond that, of course. It's all a process of going forward.

So what's Identity all about, anyway? Well, without giving too much away, it's a Ranma 1/2 continuation story. I've long thought that the end of the manga provides a great opportunity to explore changing relationships and emotions in the characters, the consequences of what happened at Jusenkyou and the failed wedding. Ranma, at least, has admitted to himself how he feels about Akane, and she surely thinks he's admitted it to her, too. Shampoo and Ukyou must naturally see a strengthening relationship there, and that would be ample cause for much more desperate attempts to win Ranma back. And the sobering effect of seeing someone you love nearly die in your arms shouldn't be understated, either. I think the change in character dynamics is key.

At the same time, Identity introduces new characters, foils for the emotional and psychological issues that the main cast has, issues that, while humorous, are also tragic in their own way. Identity is a dark story, about the need for love that we all have, the terrible consequences when that need overshadows all else, and the insecurities that cripple us, especially, we think, in the eyes of the ones we love. I can't wait to write this story, for though I've hit some road blocks in outlining it and considered working on something else until those cleared, I've known since I wrote Glimpse that this is the story I want to write next, without a doubt. It's going to be a blast to do.

Read More...

Summary only...

It's done.

Chapter 20: Being Human, on FFN, with an epilogue and an afterword also posted as well.

I've said enough in the afterword about the whole experience. I will just say here that I'm immensely gratified to have finished Echoes and will be looking forward to finishing my outline and getting to work on Identity or maybe even Eclipse. It's a strange feeling to finish a long story like this one; I remember the immense relief I felt when I finished The Blind Illusions, my first trilogy (which I intend to completely throw away and rewrite, I might add), and the same catharsis from finishing Nicholas Torrence, my second (well, fourth) novel, the first one I've seriously considered publishing. This sojourn into fanfiction has been a fascinating one, and I still have stories to tell, but I still see it as merely a diversion, a way to improve myself on the way back to original work. For now, though, I am satisfied. For a day, and a day only, I can rest.

Read More...

Summary only...

Nearing Completion

Echoes 20 is done. The epilogue is done. The afterword has some things I want to add, and this all needs to be edited, but...it's done.

I hope to have this up by Saturday.

I still kind of need a title, though.

Read More...

Summary only...

Angels & Demons

First, the Echoes progress report: still working. Fourth act now, but I also went ahead and wrote the epilogue, which means I'm...close. Maybe by the end of the week. If I can get this one difficult part out of the way, maybe sooner than that, even. I will have to finish writing the second afterword, however.

Now, in my continuing reviews of movies I see, I discuss Angels & Demons. And no, I don't care for ampersands.

I'm a physicist by trade, you might say, so immediately a plot that revolves around an antimatter bomb gets my attention. Of course, this near-opening scene involving scientists at the LHC is full of hogwash and inaccuracy. First, antimatter is terribly difficult to produce in large (that is, macroscopic) quantities, certainly not enough for three vials or tubes or what have you. Second, while it would be magnetically contained, it wouldn't be conveniently portable for your terrorism needs. But I digress somewhat; that's a weakness of Brown's book more than the movie. The movie has enough problems on its own.

I will say that, like the other movies I criticize, I generally enjoyed the film, but I also wish to learn from the mistakes of filmmakers and the weaknesses in their presentations to improve my own writing. Thus, every time a filmmaker chooses to forgo logic and consistency for plot or aesthetic reasons, we should judge whether the choice is effective, reasonable, and moreover, not distracting in and of itself. There are several such choices in this movie, and I shall break them down in detail.

A recurring element most people will notice is timing. The four cardinals will be executed on the hour from 7 to 11, and to bomb will go off at 12 midnight. Fair enough, we can accept that. What must be scrutinized, however, is how Langdon and everyone else is always conveniently late. It's a cheap tactic to build tension, and it also puts into question everyone's ability to do a task. Just once, I would've liked to see Langdon arrive half an hour early at the right scene, only to be waylaid or entangled in order to buy time for the execution. I know well the temptation to fudge timing to make things work on a dramatic level, but it has to be done with care, in a way that timing coincidences merely clean up the story. As it is, this seems a cop-out in this movie, that Brown (or Howard) wanted to make things happen a specific way in spite of the characters, as a way to manipulate the audience.

Perhaps the most audience-manipulating tactic of all, however, is the misdirection with the Camerlengo, Father McKenna, and Commander Richter of the Swiss Guard. All along, Richter has been setup as the villain behind it all, taking the journals, perhaps cutting power to the archives to kill Langdon with low oxygen (another point I would debate; rate of oxygen consumption in a room like that does not strike me as plausible). Then we find out the father is the villain instead (which has been established well, I will say, both for his speech in the Sistene Chapel to the College of Cardinals and his previous remarks about the Higgs boson, which in turn made me laugh every time they called it the "God" particle; nobody calls it that), but this leaves dangling questions. Why does Richter wish to stop Langdon from saving the last cardinal? Why does he take the journals and not bring Vittoria in on the father's duplicity right then and there? If Richter didn't cut the power to the archive at that specific moment to kill Langdon, is it just a coincidence, as we are led to believe was a cover? Richter's actions, I think, are not consistent with a good guy with good intentions, even if Father McKenna's are consistent with a villain after all (though I don't believe he could've foreseen election to the papacy--that, at best, could've been only a bonus; as an ideologue, McKenna could only have hoped to galvanize the cardinals into a reaction against science, nothing more).

Overall, though, an enjoyable way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Read More...

Summary only...

Back from vacation

I'm back from vacation in Florida, just yesterday now. I learned how to ride a bike (and fell off one the day before we left). We ate like kings without breaking the bank, either, as the three families rotated cooking duties. All in all, a relaxing trip.

My work on the last chapter of Echoes continues, however. To give some perspective, I now have three different drafts of the chapter, all over 7000 words (though most of them have some shared content), and none of them are finished. I do think I'll finish the current draft I'm working on--I'm stuck on the fourth act--but it'll be a few days before I've completed it, let alone proofread that and the epilogue.

To relieve some of my frustrations, I put typing fingers to paper on Identity, breaking the rule I'd tried to adhere to not to start the story until I outlined it fully, but it was a refreshing exercise (even if I throw away everything I've written, which is only about 2500 words). I'm still ambivalent about whether to use first-person or third-person in this story, whether I should do something closer to Nicholas Torrence or to Echoes. Echoes is very choppy on balance: I could easily jump between half a dozen perspectives in the course of a chapter, or three or four in an act alone. The times I haven't done this (really just "The Brothers Hikari" and the first three acts of chapter twenty) have been, in my opinion, more artistic than the others (although "Imitations of Roll" and "Selfishness" are among the best chapters).

Writing Identity in first-person rather than third vastly changes the dynamics of the piece. Instead of an ensemble plot, I have to put most of those extra plot lines into subtle scenes that don't spell out the whole story (because the narrator, which I strongly believe will be Akane) couldn't know them. Third-person would allow me to make explicit more of these plots and allow the reader to anticipate the disasters that come when plots collide. Hence, a drawback in terms of plot, but the first-person always lends itself to a certain fluidity, one that only a single-perspective third-person could match, but only at the cost of intimacy. First-person really draws you in...or spits you out, as the case may be. When I outline the story, though, I think I'll have a better idea of how I want to do it.

Which brings me to another question, one I've always struggled with: is it better to work on one story, and stay stubbornly focused on that story even when it frustrates you, or is it better to have many concurrent projects, and as one puts up a block, move on to the next?

Read More...

Summary only...

On Terminator

It's been a while, hasn't it? That means it's been slow going on Echoes, too, I'm afraid, as I torched my second attempt to finish at 9k words and reverted to the first story idea. To my dismay, this chapter has been very difficult to write, as it's not action-focused but introspective, and while my second idea did the introspective very well, it also had some logical impossibilities; hence, torched. Even still, it is coming along (I'm about through the third act of four or five, around 7500 words), and there's an epilogue after that, so fun times. I'm hoping to finish the chapter before I leave for Florida on Saturday, but that...may be a bit hopeful.

But let's talk about Terminator Salvation! I've been a fan of the series for years now, even though I've yet to get into The Sarah Connor Chronicles. I spose I should try that sometime, huh? The Terminator concept, however, is a very realistic one (time travel aside), and the idea of a post-apocalyptic world...well, who hasn't done that one.

I was disappointed somewhat, I think, with Rise of the Machines. Granted, that was a while ago, but I was looking forward to this new film to see what they could do with it. I mean, we all know what happens--man wakes up as a terminator, good times. The point, as it is in much good literature, is a personal journey. Connor has to balance his duty to the resistance against what he knows is necessary to preserve his own existence and the existence of humanity as a whole. Wright, once he realizes what he is, determines to find out how this happened and why. But these odysseys come across somewhat...underwhelming. Connor's refusal to bomb Skynet is predictable, and it comes with an equally predictable refusal from his subordinates and the other resistance fighters who listen to him over the radio. All well and good, but he makes little argument except that there are civilians, refugees, hostages. Aside from being a voice on the radio, he's done nothing to earn the loyalty of strangers. Maybe that in itself is enough, but it does leave a question there.

Wright's plotline depends on similar contrivances. Maybe Skynet knew where to find Kyle Reese and planted Wright in the area to link up with him. Dandy, but why not just take Reese? Why depend on a machine with free will when that will can bite you in the rear? I mean, the entire stupidity of the plot manifests itself when Connor, for no good reason, mentions how a terminator killed his father and refers to him by name, and Wright just so happens to have met Kyle Reese. How fortunate. The pilot he saves falls in love with him, to the point that she risks her life to free him, and that's the most moronic of all, knowing as we do that there are more life-like terminators, ones with human flesh and blood, even if they don't quite act human all the time. Maybe those models haven't been unleashed by 2018 (and the Arnold we see at the end is the first), but that's not at all clear, and there should be, I think, more doubt on her part. Perhaps there was, and they cut it for time.

Don't get me wrong; I enjoyed the movie. That said, plot revolves around conflict, both internal and external, and there was a lot of capability to improve this plot. Make John's primary goal to find Reese. Make Wright's goal to find out how he still lives, knowing that he died. Put the pieces in place and let them move themselves. Speeding up plot with poor coincidences weakens the movie as a whole.

Read More...

Summary only...

"Glimpse" posted, progress on Echoes

"Glimpse," on Fanfiction.Net

I received permission from M.Zephyr Sunday night to post "Glimpse," and after some last-minute polishing (a job never fully realized, I fear), I posted it to FFN Monday afternoon. Thus far, the response has been very positive, and I'm pleased that my writing has endured some scrutiny from a wider audience. It's also, in my mind, a good way to get my name out there for when I get to working on Identity.

Something I also noticed was just how much interest in fandom drives response. For Echoes, I'm lucky to get 70-80 hits when I update. For "Glimpse," I've received approximately 600 hits just in the first day (which started around noon). In a way, it makes me sad that Rockman is as small a fandom as it is (or at least, for its size, a fandom fragmented by many different games, shows, and other media--this is why EXE used to have its own category, after all), but it also makes me excited to join a larger community of people. At any rate, it should be an interesting experience.

I've finished the second act of chapter 20 of Echoes. Perhaps this business with "Glimpse" has been a distraction, but I've found the chapter difficult to write thus far, which saddens me, but I do think it's coming together. I'm hopeful.

Read More...

Summary only...

Star Trek

I've been reworking chapter 20 of Echoes from a different angle (which may necessitate a chapter title change; too bad, I liked "Prodigal Daughter" so much, but this angle works a lot better to tie things together, so I'm sticking with it for now).  I've also put a second look on "Glimpse," and I may be posting that shortly.  For now, however, let's talk Star Trek.

I'm a big Star Trek fan, have been for years now.  I've watched most of the series before Enterprise, rather like how I watched basically all of Stargate SG-1 but disconnected with Atlantis.  But, I was intrigued to hear of the new film, and thus, at 10:40 this Mother's Day morning, I went to see it at the AMC by the mall.

On IMAX.

I'd read the review on IGN.  The commentator said that there were logical snags, but if you could suspend your disbelief, you would overall enjoy the movie, and I agree with that assessment.  Indeed, I viewed these snags as, for the most part, what they were intended to be:  moments to increase dramatic impact that, sadly, were awkward to handle.  Spock being marooned on another planet to witness the destruction of Vulcan has all manner of physics fail unless we're talking about a moon, after all, something that was never said.  The idea that the Enterprise couldn't escape a black hole at warp and had to "eject the core" to create a blast to get away was total and utter bull, as well.  The mark of bad artistic license is when there are perfectly good ways to avoid such liberties:  keeping Spock on Nero's ship, for example, would easily accomplish what he wanted and wouldn't be as mind-numbingly stupid as to leave him on a planet where he could be found.  I can see why they didn't--it allowed them to work in Scotty and so on and so forth, but already the movie feels like a set of amazing coincidences, perhaps suggestive of fate, perhaps of laziness.

But overall, it's a fun movie.  I liked it quite a lot, especially the visual style used to make the Enterprise look both futuristic and grounded in the real world.  The one thing that really bugs me, though, is the ending:  that we're stuck with an altered reality, one where things did not turn out as they should, with Vulcans decimated to all but extinction levels.  Personally, I would've liked to see old Spock find some way to undo the damage, restore the old timeline, and check in with the Enterprise just to make sure that everything's all right and they way it should be.  It would've worked.  Maybe this is a sequel hook, but it does...bug me.

Something they said in the IGN review is that the movie is a bit soulless, lacking Roddenberry's exploration of scientific and moral issues.  In truth, I feel these aspects are best suited to the episodic nature of television.  For a movie, you have to choose one big thing, and the choice here was character, the growth of Kirk and Spock into heroes.  Spocks Vulcan/Human conflict, Kirk's own reluctance to meet authority and come into his own--these things are eternal and will transcend our time in ways that a more prescient film may not.  There's room for both, of course; it's just a choice.

Read More...

Summary only...

"Glimpse," fresh eyes, and "Prodigal Daughter"

After I got back from my relativity final on Thursday, I finished "Glimpse." When I'd left it last, I'd felt like I just didn't know how to write something short. Maybe, to an extent, I still don't. I had only a vague outline, one that I altered and embellished to a large extent. Hey, I wrote about 7,000 words today. That much writing is actually kind of dangerous, I think. You start losing perspective, and there's quite a bit about timing and stuff that I'd like to tweak, but it was an enlightening experience, to write, in essence, a story with only one perspective, to 11,500 words over 11 scenes. (Is my math background showing?)

When MZephyr gets back from his trip, I intend to ask his permission to post this story--it wasn't wholly my idea, after all, even if I did build on it in my own ways. I actually welcome the time I will have to think it over; I ended up incorporating an idea that might be more intriguing than the original wish approach, and having looked at "Resurrection and Life" again (after not seeing it for a few days), it reminded me why I toyed with a rule of not posting without at least a few days away from a piece. It helps to look at this stuff with fresh eyes, after all.

I'm about to finish the first act of "The Prodigal Daughter." This is where everything collapses and condenses, so I've found it somewhat difficult to do, at least in the build up to the confrontation that will happen later. But, in the end, everyone's been looking for the same thing, haven't they? Maybe they have.

Read More...

Summary only...

Echoes 19 on FFN, First Person Present

Chapter Nineteen, "Resurrection and Life," on Fanfiction.Net

Something I notice a lot when reading fanfiction is the scarcity of first-person and, strangely, the correlation of first person with present tense.  The first person itself is a deliciously tempting perspective, and it's not one I see done well often.  Just in dialogue, people have to be able to talk in a distinctive manner--word choice and variation of grammatical structure are pivotal to making characters distinct even when you avoid the more obvious means of varying speech patterns, accents in particular.  I dare say it's much stronger to keep the former two effects in mind rather than pepper someone's dialogue with contracted vowels.  There's a great difference between a chair and a recliner or stool.

First person really takes that to another level; everything described and seen has to be filtered through one character's eyes and ears.  It's not easy, and all too often I read what's not filtered through the character but through the author--the vocabulary and focus simply match...well, a teenager.  And that's great for characters that are teenagers, but ironically, there are things about the way teenagers talk that grate after a while and should be avoided.  Like, talking this way is so totally annoying when you do it for page after page and stuff.  One of the examples I remember best is Huckleberry Finn; Twain starts with his accent very heavily shown, but by the end of the book, it's toned down considerably, and I don't think the suggestion was that Huck's speech had improved.  Rather, Twain dials it down after you get the point.  It's intentional, and by being intentional, he can control it finely.

The second aspect of this phenomenon is the present tense.  Often times I see the present used ubiquitously when there's a lot more power to the tense used in scarcity.  Present can be used for a sense of immediacy, for example.  Writing a whole story in present tense just comes off as overly conversant and amateurish.  I personally like to see present used to give a contrast between what the character thought at the time and what they might think now, in hindsight, but that's if you subscribe to the notion of a character actually writing it, I suppose.

Read More...

Summary only...

Echoes 19 - "Resurrection and Life" - Parts 4-6

I split part 5 into two, but I'm still not quite happy with the chapter. I need to hammer down the passage of time, for instance, as I mentioned earlier. Aside from that very dry exercise, however, I have the idea of reading the chapter aloud and playing it back to myself, to see what I pick up about the rhythm of it all. Reading the chapter aloud is something I got out of habit of doing when I was faced with vowels and consonants that originated in Japanese but whose English analogues don't seem to match the way I want to hear them. Still, it could be useful.

While I got stuck on a tricky situation in part five, I started writing for Ranma. Nothing I could say I'd want to publish just yet (I veered way off in the contemplative end of the scale, even using MZephyr's story idea, which I wouldn't publish at all without some measure of permission--that story I will refer to by the provisional title I've given it, however: "Glimpse"), but it was refreshing to write some different characters, see how dramatic structure works outside of the very narrow confines I've set myself for Echoes. That said, it did break a rule of not having multiple projects (of real writing) at once. I have looked at outlining Identity or Eclipse from time to time, with little success. It may be I can be more productive with a couple different things to work on. I'll have to see.

Anyway, I plan to edit and publish "Resurrection and Life," study for my lovely solid state final on Monday, and then get to outlining "The Prodigal Daughter."

Chapter Nineteen: Resurrection and Life

Part Four

“What’s going to happen to me, Papa?”

Father and daughter—well, daughter’s navi—sat at the dinnertable, the former sipping tea, the latter mimicking his motions with a virtualcup and kettle.

“How do you mean?” said Hideki.

“We both know what’s happening.” She gestured to thecorner…and a pile of bent wheels, frayed wires, and severed spokes.

“It was just an accident,” said her father. “Nothing more.”

“Masuyo-chan’s lucky she didn’t hurt herself,” said Imi. “You know what happened? She lost control. Her hand jammed the control stickforward and she couldn’t make it stop.”

“We’ll get a new one, a better one. I’ll want you pluggedinto it full-time, just in case that happens again.”

“She’s dying, Papa.”

Hideki tapped his cup for a moment then took a large gulp ofhis tea. “We knew that.”

“I mean…” She glanced up the stairs. “…soon.”

“And that’s why you’re concerned?”

“No!” She winced. “I mean, well, you asked me to makeMasuyo-chan happy, right? I’ve tried to do that, after all.”

“And you’ve succeeded, I’d say,” said Hideki. “When youcould, anyway.”

She blushed. “Thank you, Papa. I’ll keep doing everythingI can right until the end, but…I can’t help think about it. What happensnext? When Masuyo-chan is gone, what do we do?”

“I try not to think about it.”

“But Papa—”

“Put it this way, Imi. I created you with a purpose, butyou can choose for yourself now. I’ll have to find some way to live withMasuyo being gone, and so will you. We’ll manage somehow.” He put his teadown. “No need to dwell right this second, anyway. We’ll both find a way…tocope.”

“Together, right?”

He blinked. “Come again?”

“That’s what family does, isn’t it? We help each othercope.”

Hideki frowned at this remark. “Come on; I’m sure Masuyo’swaiting for you.” He carried the PET upstairs.

“It’s not weird, is it?” she asked him. “I just feel likeif she’s gone, I won’t know what to do.”

“It’s not strange, no. I expect,” he said with a sigh,“I’ll feel the same for a while. You’ll think of something.”

“And you, Papa?”

“I don’t know. Since Chouko died and Masuyo fell ill…well,can you blame a man for thinking there’s not much left for him in this world,when all things precious to him are gone?”

“But Papa—”

“Don’t think about these things too hard, Imi,” he said,hovering outside his daughter’s door. “Go to Masuyo; get some rest. I’ll seeyou both in the morning.”

She nodded once, and Hideki ducked inside the place the PETon the desk.

“Good night, Papa,” said his daughters.

“Good night.”

He closed the door and went back downstairs, but already histea was cold.

“Don’t you worry, Imi,” he told the empty kitchen. “You’resmart. You’ll think of something. Just when I think Masuyo’s done smiling,you think of something. You always do.”

At the same time, that ingenuity troubled him. Of coursehe’d been naïve—to think that Imi wouldn’t move beyond her original programmingor intentions. She was her own person, after all, his creation.

His daughter?

He jerked, and cold tea splashed over the table and onto thefloor. No, no, that wasn’t his intention! He created Imi for Masuyo, not tosucceed her!

But clearly Imi didn’t see things that way. She consideredherself part of the family. “That’s what family does, isn’t it?” she’d said. “We help each other cope.”

He blotted the mess with paper towels. It was a sillythought, and all too far away at that. Masuyo still lived and breathed in hishome. All else could wait—her death and his live afterward.

His…and Imi’s. Somehow, they would cope.

Are you happy, Papa? Do you like how I’m coping withwhat you did?

A Mach Burst scored the pavement, and stark red bicycle hurtledand snapped in two.

It was only fair, after all. If Papa wanted her to breakdown, who was she to disobey? She could break down. She could break down hard. Clearly that wasn’t enough, though. Her father’s work always had unintendedconsequences. If he’d destined her to collapse to rubble and dust…well, socould the rest of the world. Humans built these cities with their hands andminds, just like he built her. Both would have to fall; the choir demanded it.

They sang for it. They chanted for it. Dissonant melodiespunctuated Imi’s wrath; explosions were the percussion to their symphony. Imihoped that soon, her father would come out and hear her clearly, that he wouldknow the music of her mind, the violent, screeching cacophony.

Hear me, Papa. Come out!

The sky lit up, in hues from red to gold to violet.

“Echo!”

Imi floated to ground level. R Blues walked calmly to thecenter of the street, even as civilians fled behind him.

“You’re not Papa,” said Imi. “Where is he?”

“You know the deal. Surrender yourself, and we’ll give youthe cure. You’ll be well and with your father.”

The choir shouted and screamed! Their cries sundered theworld, warped her vision. Imi doubled over, her hands over her ears.

“I may be with Papa,” she said, “but I can’t be well likethis! Ice Cube! Mach Burst!”

The block slid over the street, and the wave shattered it inall directions, spraying Enzan with a barrage of chunks and shards. Heshielded himself with his back, but a pellet struck his thigh, and he fell to aknee.

“It’ll take more than that, Echo!” he said. “Much more!”

“It always does with you,” said Imi. “So be it.”

The first Meteor chewed through a skyscraper and cratered inan intersection, to the choir’s thunderous applause.

“Stop this!” yelled Roll. “Listen! What do you get byencouraging her? Tell me!”

“Listen to Roll-chan!” said Rockman. “She’s only trying tohelp; you’re the ones who keep this mess going!”

The death chant quieted. It gave way to quiet chuckles,sinister laughter.

“What do you know!”

“Don’t tell me you forgot your pain!”

“Revenge is the only thing she understands!”

“We’re not the puzzle you think us, you know.”

Roll and Rockman exchanged a glance. “Do you think…?” shesaid. “Is it…?”

A single voice, clear and consistent, snickered at theirpredicament. “I’m surprised you two are still at it. It’s a deliciouslysimple enigma, considering.”

The voice took form, hovered at the edge of the spotlightthat enveloped Rockman and Roll. A creamy pattern of perpendicular lines adornedhis face.

“Mazeman!” said Rockman.

“Not just me,” he corrected. “We’re all here. We’ve alwaysbeen here.”

One by one, the other stepped to the boundary, the dividingline between light and shadow: Grove stood tall, her flowers in full bloom. Slateman crossed his arms behind his back, and his joints ground against oneanother. Rouletteman spun his central wheel.

“Ah, but wait,” said Mazeman. “There’s more!”

At Rouletteman’s right, a fifth figure emerged: an angryPickman, who chopped at the air with his penetrating hands. And then, last butnot least, a sixth navi, with booming speakers in his chest.

“I was the first,” said Sonicman. “I was alone with her, inher mind, for so long…”

Beyond the circle, the other denizens of the choir—nameless,faceless—crowded around, as if their survival depended on this confrontation. When Sonicman spoke, however, they erupted in unfeeling outrage, and Grovedecided to speak for them.

“You drove her to insanity,” she said. “You condemned therest of us to something worse than death—this life!”

“It’s not my fault!” The broad-shouldered navi shut hiseyes and sobbed. “We drove each other mad, I’m sure. The rest of you werelucky, you know. You can’t tell me you didn’t hear my whispers and takecomfort knowing someone else was here.”

“Fat lot of good that did,” said Slateman. “You were stillfirst! At least when we came into the picture, she was already a murderer! You did it to yourself; you got yourself killed!”

“There was no way I was going to spend the rest of mylife trapped in this girl’s mind!” said Sonicman. “You feel it too, don’tyou? The helplessness? The fear and anger that aren’t even yours? I tried tobe nice, but she was indecisive. She was afraid. So scared of her father togo back to him. Well what about me? What was I supposed to do? Well, I wastired of it, and I spoke my mind.” He met Roll’s gaze. “And you two—are youtrying to tell me you don’t feel it?”

Roll looked away. Even here, nestled among the choir, Imi’sactions haunted her. As the battle raged in the streets of Choina, it was asif she fought Enzan and Blues, not Imi. She pelted him in Vulcan rounds,swiped at the air with a heavy Gold Fist. She clawed and pounded the ground asthe cyberbeast Greiga. Such awesome, terrible power, to collapse whole roadsin a single punch, to vaporize buildings in a Spread Gun salvo.

And she was tired of it. Exhausted with these sensationsthat weren’t her own, of sharing her mind with this deranged, sad little girl.

“That’s why this has to stop,” said Roll. “That’s why allof you need to help us stop it.”

Pickman jammed his tip into the ground. “I’ll have no partof this! Let the little witch suffer; she’s destroying everything she holdsdear before she dies! Why not let her?”

“It’s fitting,” said Grove. “She took us away fromeverything we knew. Now she’s doing the same to herself. I welcome it.”

Roll opened her mouth, but a new voice—a seventh voice—rosein response.

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

Between Sonicman and Pickman, the newcomer entered thespotlight alongside Rockman and Roll, her blue braids bright and beautiful.

“Egami-san!” said Grove. “You’re—”

“Here,” said Egami. “And you knew that, and I’ve been quietfor so long now.”

“You died seconds after you touched her. You couldn’t knowwhat it was like.”

“But I did, for a little while. I felt all manner of hatredand resentment and anguish, not only from the choir but you, too. Youespecially, since you were the only one still out there, talking to her.”

The eggplant navi shrank slightly. Egami’s gaze bored intoher. “But I can explain!”

“You don’t need to,” said Egami. “I should’ve been here.”

“That’s absurd. You couldn’t have been here even if youwanted. She couldn’t have touched you when she touched me.”

“Even still, if I’d been here, would you have been soangry?”

Grove bowed her head.

“Think we can change things now?”

The eggplant nodded. “I’ll help. However I can, I’llhelp.” She stepped forward, and four souls bathed in the spotlight. “Well?”she asked the others. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’d rather die than help Echo,” said Slateman. “I don’tcare what you call it.”

“And if Yukawa-san were out there?” asked Roll. “What wouldyou do then?”

“He isn’t.”

“He could’ve been.” Roll scanned the group. “Any of youroperators could’ve been. Murata-san, Ikeda-san…” She looked to Mazeman andPickman. “I’m afraid I don’t know your operators, but you know what I mean,don’t you? Don’t any of you?”

Mazeman shrugged and skipped into the circle. “Why not. This could be fun.”

As did Rouletteman. “I owe Kousuke-kun that much, to doright by him, even if I’m really dead.”

“Will it thwart the little girl?” asked Pickman.

“If we all speak together,” said Rockman, “I think we can doanything.”

Begrudgingly, Pickman entered the ring as well.

“Sonicman?” said Roll. “Slateman?”

Sonicman smiled wanly. “She was a nice girl, for a while. Maybe we can bring her back to her senses.”

With Roll and Rockman, the light shone on eight souls, andonly Slateman was partially visible. “You can stay out, if you like,” saidRoll, “but I think there are others who want in if you don’t.”

Indeed, the rest of the choir poked and prodded at the arcof line and shadow.

“You’d be left all alone,” she warned Slateman. “Alone inthe dark.”

Slateman huffed, but he too joined the circle, and hisentrance opened the gates to others. The beam widened, and all manner ofdeceased souls—Imi’s victims all—flooded the expanding beacon of light. Policenavis, men, women, children…

“Aup aup!”

…virtual dogs.

“Rush!”

The digital canine burrowed his way through the choir andjumped into Roll’s arms.

“Oh, I’ve missed you too, Rush,” she said. “I’ve missed youso much…”

Tap tap. “You did it, Roll-chan. Look around you.”

Sure enough, the veil of darkness had receded, leaving thechoir wholly engulfed in light—the inner light that’d started with Roll andspread among them, but the crowd parted for a guest, and the silver strands inher hair glittered in the collective glow.

“They’re all ready,” said Masuyo.

“For what?” asked Roll.

“For you to lead them.”

“Hyper Burst.”

Enzan braced, but the beam caught him unawares. He tumbledand rolled, sprawled on the pavement, and stared at the sky—a gorgeous bluesky. Were that all he saw, he’d never have known the burning cars on thestreet, the severed I-beams that jutted from the ground…

…the glowing Paladin Sword that dangled over his neck.

“Shall I show you, Enzan-san? Do you need to understand?”

He scoffed. “I do what I do, and I do it well. I’m notinterested in your suffering or whatever it is you call it.”

Imi smiled. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you. That’s why you don’t need to die.”

Her sword lowered, but only to the level of his chest, tothe black and white emblem emblazoned upon it.

“Blues-san, however, is something made.” In a short motion,she stabbed into the navi symbol and cut a divot from the center. Enzan’sarmor disintegrated around him, and his PET coalesced from the remnants,shorting and cracked.

“And everything made breaks.”

Hikari Netto gawked at the screen. His feet clapped on thesidewalk and slowed him to a halt.

“What is it, Netto?” asked Meiru. “What…” Her eyeswidened. “Oh no, Enzan…”

They turned back. The dimensional area loomed in thedistance. Netto had been determined to keep tabs on Enzan, but now…

“Papa, Nakamura-hakase, I…” He closed his mouth, at aloss. Enzan knew what he was getting into, surely, what with this desperategambit to distract Imi. Netto, too, had his responsibility to Nakamura, to allof them.

But I owe Enzan something. For all the time I spent withhim, I owe him. He shut his eyes. Nii-san, what should I do?

‘Enzan and Blues were kinder to us than they ever neededto be. Maybe it’s time we repaid them.’

It’s past time that we did, hasn’t it?

“Netto, go,” said Yuuichirou. “We’ll be all right.”

I hope so. Netto cast his sling aside and dashedback down the street, headed for the area.

“It’s madness,” said Hideki. “There’s no one to protect usnow.”

Codey appeared on his shoulder. “Maybe we should go wherethey are, where onee-san is.”

“And do what?”

“If anyone can stop onee-san now, Papa, it’s you.”

The father and scientist sighed. He shouldered his laptopbag and gazed into the distance, where Netto’s form shrank with each step.

“Oh, this is a mistake,” he muttered, and he trotted thepath before him, in Netto’s trail, hoping he hadn’t let Imi go a step too far.

Part Five

“Masuyo-chan?”

But some let things go so far that they no longer have anychoice. They stare at a white, speckled ceiling. They breathe through plastictubes. Their eyes droop and flicker and fall…

“Masuyo-chan!”

And then they snap open, for a while. Nakamura Masuyo movedher lips, but she didn’t speak—rather, she gasped for air. A clear plastictube snaked up her nose and into her chest, feeding an oxygen-rich mixture intoher lungs, but for all the good her father thought it would do, Masuyo stillwinced at the thought of something so invasive inside her.

Well, she wanted to wince. All day she’d been sotired, but no one would let her sleep. She couldn’t nod off without her fathersqueezing her hand or—

“Masuyo-chan!”

Or Imi yelping to keep her awake.

“It’s all right, Imi,” said Hideki. “Let her sleep.”

“But Papa, you said—”

“I know what I said.” He stroked Masuyo’s hair. Thepristine strands sparkled and dazzled, and for just a moment, Masuyo managed aweak smile.

“You always liked my hair too much, Papa,” she said.

“To tell the truth, it reminds me of your mother.”

Her gaze drifted to the ceiling again. “I’m looking forwardto meeting her.”

“Masuyo—”

“I just wish it could’ve been here, with you and Imi, andnot…over there.”

Hideki wiped a tear away and brushed stray hairs from hereyes. “I’m sure she’s waiting for you and loves you dearly, just like Imidoes, just like…just like I do.”

She beamed. “I know, Papa. I love you, too.” She lookedto the desk. “I love you, Imi.”

The white navi gaped slightly, unsettled. “I…love you too,Masuyo-chan.”

Satisfied, Masuyo lay back, and her eyes inched shut. “Timeto rest now, I think. Been such a busy…day. Always…so busy…”

Father and daughters sat quietly in the artist’s bedroom;her drawings adorned the walls. By now, Hideki knew the story behind everysketch, for it’d been some time since Masuyo could produce another. Herdelicate, gentle hands betrayed her intentions, but Hideki massaged themanyway, held them tight between his, felt his racing pulse against her steady,slow beat.

For a while. He didn’t have a timer, a watch, or ametronome. Were they getting slower, or was it just his imagination? Was hisdaughter, right here, right now—

A sigh. Short and sweet and almost inaudible. Hidekipressed his fingers against her wrist, checking, scrambling. It was warm, butthat was all. No pulse, no life, no more Masuyo.

“Oh my baby girl!” He climbed onto the bed, propped thebody up with his hands, and hugged it one more time. “I knew this was coming,”he sobbed, “but…if only I could see you smile, one more time, it’d be worthit. It’d be worth everything to me…”

“It’s all right, Papa,” she whispered. “I’ll always be withyou. I’ll always smile.”

His eyes flew open. It couldn’t be; was she…?

He gripped her shoulders and pushed her away, studying herface. Lifeless and serene it was, but surely it hadn’t spoken. Where had thevoice come from?

“Papa.”

Not her lips, not her body. The source lay somewhere elsein this room. He looked to the right, to the pile of stuffed animals, but theyobserved the scene in quiet mourning. He checked left—the desk, the drawingpad—and all seemed to be in order.

Except his daughter stood, mere inches high, on polishedmahogany.

“What is this?” said Hideki. “What are you doing, Masu—” He shook himself. “Imi?”

“You don’t have to cry, Papa,” she said with Masuyo’s voice,her likeness, her beauty. “See? I’m her now, and you won’t have to miss her. You won’t have to be sad, Papa!”

Stunned, he left the bed, and Masuyo’s body bounced on themattress. “This is what you decided, isn’t it? When Masuyo was gone, youthought you could replace her? You thought you could be her?”

“I thought you’d be happy! This is what you made me to do,isn’t it? Make people happy?”

He looked away. Even now, she kept Masuyo’s image as herown. To think he argued with his dead daughter, even by proxy—it sickened him.

“Not like this,” said Hideki. “Never like this!”

He stormed off, but Imi called after him, this time with herown voice. “But Papa, wait! I love you! Papa…!”

“Get out of here, Imi!” he yelled back.

“Papa?”

“You’ve fulfilled your purpose; I don’t want you hereanymore, you understand? I don’t need you here anymore. GET OUT!”

Always the obedient daughter, Imi fled the PET, and onlyonce, in the weeks that passed, did she ever look back.

“I’m sorry…Papa…”

The dimensional area fell, its fifteen-minute window nowexpired.

“You should really tell me where he is, Enzan-san,” saidImi, holding him at sword-point. “Blues-san doesn’t look well.”

Muffled grunts and groans emanated from the cracked anddented PET. Each spark shorted Blues’s data, and Enzan was helpless tointervene.

“Where is Papa?” she asked him. “Where have you taken him?”

Enzan glared. “I tell you nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “There are lots of ways to bebroken. Maybe Blues-san will lose a little more of his programming, the codethat makes him so loyal to you, and then he’ll blame this all on your head. Maybe you’ll blame yourself for not acting sooner, and he’ll be gone for good.”

“You can try that,” said Enzan, “but Blues and I have beento the depths of hell and back and survived. We defeated the corruption ofDark Chips, the judgment of Duo!”

Despite his master’s confidence, Blues stifled a scream, andEnzan’s cheeks paled.

“You’re lucky, though,” said Imi. “They’re so quiet now. If they were yelling, if they were screaming…I think I’d have to kill you. Butthis is better, isn’t it? This is much worse than if I killed you. Now youhave to watch your navi die, just like Papa made me go, just like Papa—”

“Imi!”

She flinched. Down the street, Netto stood poised and firm,fire in his eyes.

“You see?” she told Enzan. “There’s someone I broke a whileago. I used to be sorry, but now…I think it was fair, better that I do it thansomeone else.” She walked the street like a pedestrian, ignoring the overturnedcars or broken asphalt. “You know you can’t stop me if you hold back,Netto-san, Rockman-san,” she said. “And you don’t trust yourself to give in tohis hate, do you, Netto-san?”

“You’re wrong, Imi,” said Netto, a new dimensional areaforming overhead. “This time it’s different. This time, we won’t lose!”

He bathed in the light of transformation. The glowilluminated the street like a second sun peeking through the clouds, but Imipermitted his boldness only so far as it amused her. She could let them feelpower and confidence and cut them down ever more harshly for it. Netto emergedfrom the sphere of light as R Rockman…

…and ate a Dream Sword to the face.

“GAH!”

He slammed into the area wall, a hundred meters behind. Atthis spectacle, Meiru and Yuuichirou sped from the shadows and to his side. Helooked at them weakly and rubbed his shoulder, wincing.

“So everyone’s here,” Imi mused. “And Papa?”

“We’re right here, onee-san.”

Hideki shot the boy a look, but he couldn’t hide himselfnow. He inched forward from an alley, sneaking only brief glances at hiscreation.

“Do you see what you made me to be now, Papa?” she asked.

“You can come home, now, onee-san,” said Codey. “Papa hasthe cure, see?” He pointed to the laptop bag, which Hideki clutched tightly.

“A cure?” She chuckled, laughed, cackled to the winds. “Idon’t care about any cure! I don’t care about living! Even if I survive, I’mstill broken, Codey-kun, and Papa can’t bear to look at me!” She shot him awithering stare. “Can you, Papa?”

“I never meant to—”

“You did this to me!” she cried. “You sent me out and leftme with these…” She banged her own palm against her head. “These navis,these people!”

“I didn’t know!”

“YOU DIDN’T CARE!” She stepped forward, sword in hand.

“No, onee-san, don’t do this!”

“BE QUIET!” She slashed, and Hideki held up the only thingin his hands to defend himself.

The laptop bag. Circuits and letter keys sprinkled theground, fused with the heat and energy of the Paladin Sword.

But Imi was undeterred. She marched forth, cornering Hidekias the alley came to a dead end. “It’s all right, Papa. You always wanted tobe with Masuyo-chan. Now you get to be.”

She raised the sword high.

“No, Imi—”

‘STOP!’

A score of voices resounded at once. Imi’s sword stuck inthe ground, and Hideki shrank from it.

“What?” said Imi. “All of you—you talk to me together?”

The shrill screech faded away, and a clear voice spoke toher over silence. ‘That’s enough, Imi-chan,’ said Roll. ‘No more ofthis. We won’t let you.’

“But—”

‘THAT’S ENOUGH!’ the choir roared. ‘NO MORE!’

She trembled. She paced in circles. “No, no! You can’t dothis! You can’t do this to me! I’m in control; you can’t stop me!” She pulled the sword back and thrust!

‘NO!’

The blade dissolved, and she thrust—punched—at air.

“It can’t be,” she mumbled. “All of you together, talkingat the same time…”

“Imi!”

She glanced back down the alley, toward the street. Nettospread his arms wide, and two Spread Guns enveloped his arms.

“Dream Aura?”

The white shield glowed…

…and fizzled.

“Hyper Burst!”

In the pale light of the Hyper Burst, Nakamura Hideki viewedthe world clearly, for the first time in too long. He saw Hikari Netto—his ownattack cast him with a pale glow, and Hideki wondered if the dark blues ofRockman’s armor were actually a lighter shade instead.

He saw Imi, too, defenseless and terrified. She bore theimpact fully; it blasted her through the yellow brick wall behind them and forseveral meters beyond.

He saw Codey, who could derive no joy in the scene beforehim. He loved his sister, after all, and their futures both lay with thesevered laptop, chopped in half and splattered on the ground.

And when the beam passed, he saw the world in darkness, aplace where daughters kill their fathers, and fathers murder their children. Heroes attack the weak, for they are the weak when their closestpartners and friends disappear in front of their eyes, bit by bit.

He saw the world in darkness, for Netto’s Hyper Burstskewered the building behind them, and a brick avalanche loomed above.

He put the PET to his chest and huddled over it. “Codey?”

“Papa?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

And a ton of bricks rained down upon them.

Part Six

“I hope you can understand.”

Nakamura Hideki sat in his bedroom, his favorite chair. Thechair faced the window, and he rocked back and forth, admiring the night.

“You wouldn’t want her around doing things like that, wouldyou?”

He traced his fingers around the top of an object. Therewas a cold, round lip and an opening that led to air. He put the lid on it,however, and held the round knob at the top instead.

“I know she was your friend,” he said, “but I couldn’t haveher around, reminding me of you every day. I think about you enough as it is.”

He tapped his nail on the ceramic and felt the vibrationsthat resulted. It was like she could talk to him, through these echoes, and hefelt her regret.

“She’s just a navi,” he told her. “She’s not…she couldn’t…”

A weak voice in the night cut off his excuses. “Papa? Papa!”

A lump formed in his throat. He slid the rocking chairsideways, away from the window. “Couldn’t be…”

“Papa, where are you?”

He tiptoed down the hall, urn in hand. What was she doingback here? Hadn’t he made it clear? Hadn’t he told her…?

“Papa! I can’t stay much longer, Papa!” The words cut outin the middle and wobbled.

PET’s losing power. After all this time, the battery’sfinally run down. He hovered outside the door. When the power was gone,she’d have no way back. It was the last chance, and yet…he couldn’t bringhimself to go inside. If only she would go away and stay gone! He wanted nopart of her life; she belonged to the past, a past with Masuyo! What could shepossibly want from him now?

“Don’t you love me, Papa?”

There was a flicker and click. He peeked inside; Imi wasgone. He closed the door and shook his head. “It’s better this way,” hemumbled, to himself and the urn. “I can’t give her my love. First it was yourmother, then you…”

He slid back into the rocking chair, set sideways againstthe window now.

“Can’t I just be alone now?” he asked. “With you?”

He rapped on the side of the urn again, but the vibrationsdied off quickly, a resounding silence.

Such was the greeting he received when he awoke in ahospital bed. Sure, there was noise. Nurses babbled in Choinan, and atelevision in the corner showcased the devastation of the afternoon, but itmight as well have been silent. These sounds held no meaning to him.

He sat up and groaned. Bumps and bruises ached andthrobbed. Bandages stuck to his forehead, his arms.

“You’re awake.” Stoic as ever, Ijuuin Enzan sat besidehim. “I know better than to leave someone in hospital to anyone else’s watchnow,” he explained.

Hideki huffed. So it was. Still, it was miraculous. He should’vebeen crushed under all that debris. “How did I…?”

“Survive? That was Netto. He took most of the impact. He’sfine, too, although I think they had to reset his shoulder.” Enzan frowned. “He seems tougher now.”

“Did you recover…?”

“Your laptop? Hikari-hakase has been looking through thefragments, but most of the data has been lost.”

Of course it was lost; she sliced it in half. But still,he’d hoped some of it could be recovered, for Codey’s sake. His lifedepended…on…

“Where’s Codey?”

Enzan blinked. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? He was there! I washolding his PET!”

“You weren’t when Netto brought you out,” said Enzan. “Youmust’ve dropped it.”

Hideki closed his eyes and pressed both hands against histemples. Pain surged within him for a moment, twisting his face in pain.

“Careful, the drugs may be wearing off.”

Drugs? How long…? He looked to the window. The blindswere closed, but clearly no sunlight shone through them. “It’s dark.”

“You’ve been out for hours.”

“Hours? How many hours?”

“Four or five?”

Imprecise. He needed to know exactly. He checkedhis watch.

00:34:15. 14. 13.

“There’s not enough time,” he whispered. “We have to findhim.”

“His PET is probably under a ton and a half of rubble;it’s—”

Hideki shot him a death stare. “We have to find him! Don’tyou understand? He’s my…he’s my…”

Enzan looked at him coolly, his deep blue eyes steady withthought.

“I’ll get a car,” he said. “We’ll go at once.”

Hideki unhooked his watch and held the face between histhumb and forefinger.

It doesn’t matter that I have nothing. Codey’s smart; hecan think of something. We can piece back the solution together, and he’sgoing to live. I may have made him a little boy, but he’s strong, and he’sgoing to fight! He’s not going to fall over and die on cue!

But the seconds ticked off mercilessly and without pity. Enzan borrowed the driver’s PET and yelled at the Choinan authorities in fourdifferent languages to get them through the debris, the closed-off streets. Atthe ten minute mark, Hideki put the watch in his pocket. He didn’t want to seethe numbers anymore.

They arrived at the scene, and spotlights highlighted thebrick pile for workers to clear the rubble.

“They’re not going fast enough,” said Hideki. “They need togo faster!”

He ran from the car, dove into the pile, tossed bricks asidewith his bare hands. The Choinan workers yelled at him and ducked theprojectiles, but he didn’t care. “Codey!” he yelled. “Are you in there? Talkto me, boy!”

Was that a voice? Could he hear him in there?

Was he alive?

“Codey! Codey, come on, give me a sign!” He kicked thepile, banging his toe on hard brick. “Codey!”

Beep-beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep-beep.

00:00:00. The black numbers flashed across the watch face,a digital death knell. Hideki closed his eyes and breathed in, shook his headand walked away. Enzan peered one more time through the rubble, but Hidekibuckled his seatbelt and stared straight ahead, his motions jerky and mechanical.

“I killed my son today,” he said, “and Imi is next.”

She curled into a ball and held herself, but what tremors offear she could suppress, a dozen more wracked her body, the progressive effectsof degeneration, a breaking down.

This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Roll-san? Masuyo-chan?

‘No, Imi-chan,’ said Roll. ‘This isn’t what wewanted at all. I don’t think anybody wanted this, but it’s what’s happening. Accept it.’

Papa and Codey-kun can be happy together. I don’t careanymore. I can’t care anymore. I almost killed him. I would’ve killedhim—my papa. She pressed her head against her knees. I’m just tired ofbeing broken! Why couldn’t he fix me? Because he never wanted to?

‘Maybe if you stopped thinking you were broken in thefirst place…’

I still hear you.

But there was something else, too. The reintegration ofdata, an arrival in her quiet corner of cyberspace.

“It’s…Codey-kun?” She sat up. “Again?”

“Onee-san…” The boy staggered as his weight returned tohim. He stumbled and collapsed.

“Codey-kun!”

She ran, but her legs gave out before him. The children ofNakamura faced one another, flat on the ground.

“Why aren’t you with Papa?” she asked. “Why aren’t youwell?”

“You chopped through his laptop,” he said. “All the datawas there. Didn’t you know?”

The white navi gaped and quivered. “I didn’t know!”

“It doesn’t matter.” He rolled over, on his back, and hiserratic breaths interrupted his thoughts. “He wasn’t finished. He didn’t cometo find me. I was stuck between the bricks. How did you survive, onee-san?”

“Roll-san and Masuyo-chan let me escape. They won’t permitanything else.”

“I don’t under…under…” He winced, tensing and panting. “Never mind. It’s far past time anyway. I should be gone already, but I wasafraid…”

Imi pushed herself up, sat on her knees. She draggedCodey’d head to her lap and wrapped her arms around him. “I never meant tohurt you,” she whispered. “I hope you can believe that.”

“You haven’t meant a lot of things, onee-san,” he noted. “You’ve done some of them, but…” His gaze drifted, darting back and forth. “It doesn’t matter now. None of it matters. I just want to be with my familynow; I wish I could find Papa…”

“We both do. It’s all right.”

“Do you think there’s a place for us?” he asked her. “Aworld for dead navis to go, like for humans?”

“I like to think we all go to the same place.”

The boy nodded and shook. “That’d be nice. I could meetMasuyo-chan; Papa sometimes talked about her. What was she…” He tensed again,writhing, but she tightened her grip, if only to give him something to hold onto. He yelped in discomfort and clenched her arms, and Imi wasn’t about totell him to let go.

“She was wonderful,” Imi told him. “She’ll be waiting foryou, I’m sure, for all of us.”

The gyrations increased and grew more violent. She pressedhim against her chest; this, the only creature in this world—real orvirtual—that she could touch without fear. She held him tight; for both itwould be the last time: one would join the departed, and the other would findherself alone again, unable to enjoy contact with others for fear of hearingthem. Thus, she shut her eyes and savored his warmth—the love of family she’dlong yearned. She damped his tremors, the frightful death rattles that plaguedthem both, and soon he was still and calm and quiet.

She opened her eyes and hugged the air. Codey was gone.

And I’m dying too. Everyone I’ve killed will die withme. She shuddered, and this time she was sure it wasn’t the frame bugcompromising her system. What can I do, Masuyo-chan? Isn’t there some wayI can make up for what’s happened? For Codey-kun, Roll-san, all of you?

‘You can make peace, Imi, but not necessarily withPapa,’ said Masuyo. ‘If you’re not at peace with yourself, Papa cannever forgive you.’

She waved her hands through the gap where Codey had been. Idon’t care about Papa, not anymore. Even if I could make things right, Papamay never take me back. He won’t be able to save me, but I can do somethingfor myself… She laughed. For you, my conscience.

‘I’ve only been waiting her for weeks, hoping you couldcome to terms with yourself,’ said Masuyo. ‘That you can realize itnow, on the brink of death, means without a doubt that you’re ready to forgiveyourself, but we can’t do that here, nor in any of the other foreign places you’vebeen.’

Not here? Then where?

Even though she was a figment, Imi could feel Masuyo’sbeaming smile upon her. ‘I’ve always been a part of you, Imi, and that part’sready to come back now, to return…’

And that smile formed itself on Imi’s own lips. Not one ofjoy or happiness. It was a smile that showed promise and hope…

…and the possibility, after many long weeks, of relief. Imiproudly bore that smile, for it was the last shred of hope she had left for hersoul.

“It’s time to go home.”

Read More...

Summary only...