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Put this on PPF, but I figured it might get some more publicity posted here as well.
I'll update frequently, so subscribe or whatever (Who actually subscribes to threads?).
Why do we do the things we do?
Why do we like the things we like?
Is it because of pressure? The need or want to succeed or pass? The feelings we get when we accomplish a task?
Or is it something else?
Why do we do the things we do?
The bell rang.
It was the same ring as always, nothing special to me. A single bleep, loud and clear. It was an E sharp, and signaled the end of the day. Everyone simultaneously took out their school planners and wrote down the history homework. Another textbook page: read and take notes on the next section. It was Wednesday, so the homework was due 2 days from now, the next time we had class. Everyone packed their bags and headed out of the classroom to catch their bus. I did the same.
The hallway was always packed, and today was no different. Endless lines of people teeming out of their classes made their way towards the busses out front. My bus was #17, always the second from the back. It hadn’t been late all year, and today was no exception. There it was, just another yellow and black bus in the parking lot, 2nd to last where it always was-and always would be. I boarded it and sat down at my assigned seat-the 2nd to last seat on the right side. I then took out my iPhone like I always did and listened to my 5-song playlist, waiting for us to leave. The busses always stayed exactly 5 minutes later before leaving to prevent anyone who was late from missing his or her bus-it was a waste of time though, because no one ever was. The bell bleeped again, notifying everyone that after-school had begun and it was time for the busses to leave. They all went off, single file, to go the routes they made every day. According to when it was supposed to, the song switched to the 3rd track right as we exited. My stop was always first, and the last song would finish exactly 7 seconds before we arrived. That would be enough time for me to put the player away and sling my back over my shoulder.
When we arrived, I walked off of the bus and across it to arrive at my house perfectly on time at 2:32 with 43 seconds. I set down my bag on the mudroom rack. I then walked into the next room and checked the calendar. Today was an even day Wednesday (October 10, 2458), so my after school snack was plague brand cheddar cheese and plague brand crackers. I waited an extra 2.5 seconds so I could then sit down in the kitchen chair. I ate my snack in exactly 5 minutes and 38 seconds and went to grab my school bag. According to the time, I sat down and did exactly one half hour of homework. I then had my 5 hours of “Unscheduled time†to do whatever I wanted. This was only so the citizens could still feel they had “free willâ€-which was a complete lie.
Everything was perfectly planned and coordinated, right down to what second we would begin learning about the next lesson, when desert was to be served, when every person in the world would begin brushing his or her teeth, when you could go shopping, what you could shop for, even where which sofa was to be placed or how many you could have.
It had to be.
This was order.
This was the plague system.C+C?
![[Image: eminemsignew.png]](https://i1121.photobucket.com/albums/l505/spartandranzer/eminemsignew.png)
"Life isn't about how hard you can hit;
it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward"
{[YT]} [|BEYBLOG|] (â—ŠSoG-My Bookâ—Š)/<DA>\
I'll update frequently, so subscribe or whatever (Who actually subscribes to threads?).
Prologue... (Click to View)
Why do we do the things we do?
Why do we like the things we like?
Is it because of pressure? The need or want to succeed or pass? The feelings we get when we accomplish a task?
Or is it something else?
Why do we do the things we do?
The bell rang.
It was the same ring as always, nothing special to me. A single bleep, loud and clear. It was an E sharp, and signaled the end of the day. Everyone simultaneously took out their school planners and wrote down the history homework. Another textbook page: read and take notes on the next section. It was Wednesday, so the homework was due 2 days from now, the next time we had class. Everyone packed their bags and headed out of the classroom to catch their bus. I did the same.
The hallway was always packed, and today was no different. Endless lines of people teeming out of their classes made their way towards the busses out front. My bus was #17, always the second from the back. It hadn’t been late all year, and today was no exception. There it was, just another yellow and black bus in the parking lot, 2nd to last where it always was-and always would be. I boarded it and sat down at my assigned seat-the 2nd to last seat on the right side. I then took out my iPhone like I always did and listened to my 5-song playlist, waiting for us to leave. The busses always stayed exactly 5 minutes later before leaving to prevent anyone who was late from missing his or her bus-it was a waste of time though, because no one ever was. The bell bleeped again, notifying everyone that after-school had begun and it was time for the busses to leave. They all went off, single file, to go the routes they made every day. According to when it was supposed to, the song switched to the 3rd track right as we exited. My stop was always first, and the last song would finish exactly 7 seconds before we arrived. That would be enough time for me to put the player away and sling my back over my shoulder.
When we arrived, I walked off of the bus and across it to arrive at my house perfectly on time at 2:32 with 43 seconds. I set down my bag on the mudroom rack. I then walked into the next room and checked the calendar. Today was an even day Wednesday (October 10, 2458), so my after school snack was plague brand cheddar cheese and plague brand crackers. I waited an extra 2.5 seconds so I could then sit down in the kitchen chair. I ate my snack in exactly 5 minutes and 38 seconds and went to grab my school bag. According to the time, I sat down and did exactly one half hour of homework. I then had my 5 hours of “Unscheduled time†to do whatever I wanted. This was only so the citizens could still feel they had “free willâ€-which was a complete lie.
Everything was perfectly planned and coordinated, right down to what second we would begin learning about the next lesson, when desert was to be served, when every person in the world would begin brushing his or her teeth, when you could go shopping, what you could shop for, even where which sofa was to be placed or how many you could have.
It had to be.
This was order.
This was the plague system.
The First Chapter (Click to View)
November 24th, 1965 [Thanksgiving day]
Manhattan, New York
The steady pitter patter of the falling rain matched the beating thumping of my heart. It was a quickened pace, rushing faster than the parade itself. I was fascinated by all of the balloons and decorations, the high spirits even on such a crummy day. Of course, the Thanksgiving parade was a big thing for little 8 year olds.
I pressed against the window of the blimp to get a closer view, intensely observing with fascinated eyes. The people marched along like ants, each one carrying its own load back to the nest. So many bright colors and floats on such a dimly lit day. My father sat in a rotating chair near the rear of the plane, working hard. He was the CEO of "P.S.Y. Inc" a combination of the owners last names. Although there were 2 other co-founders, father was the CEO and owner of the company. He had a lot of work to run it and never really had time for me. I remembered him as a very harsh person, always yelling and barking orders, his stained yellow teeth baring and flashing at anyone who dared oppose him. I never saw him much, and when I did he was always "Too busy to have time for games" maybe that was why mother had left him.
So I sat there, transfixed, eyes glued to the glass as we passed overhead. It was so fun to watch, and for a while I was focused solely on the parade down below in the city streets. Then, without warning, 2 large firm hands clasped my shoulders and dug into them. Startled, I jumped away from the clutches and backed into a corner. When I looked at the person, I was shocked to see my father, still with his hands in a clutching position and crouching on the floor. He turned to look at me and blinked with his dull grey eyes. Thunder boomed overhead.
"Hello, son" his voice was raspy and metallic, sending a chill down my spine. I shook my head, afraid and scared of the man I wished so much was not related to me. Hatred burned in his eyes like a dying flame, and he smiled crookedly."The day has come," he whispered menacingly, "For me to begin experimenting with my greatest creation" Uh oh. I didn't like this where this was going. Father was a science fanatic, and the company was built to create new weapons and technology. Lately I had overheard a secretary talking about some sort of freezer company. 'Cryogenic,' was it? I had a feeling it was what he meant by his creation. My stomach knotted and I felt queasy. I was tied to it as well. Anyone could guess that. Besides, my father never directly addressed me. Something was not right...
"Wha-wh...wha," I stammered, backing farther and farther into the corner of the room. My heart was beating faster than before, the rain harder and more furiously, "What...what are you doing?" I meant to say that, but in my nervousness it came out as "Wha-re-yad-oin-er?" my father put out a paw and began to pant like he was waiting for a bone.
"Son, come with me" he beckoned with a single finger wagging back and fourth, and I shrank away further. I wished I could disappear, or fly away. Father was scaring me. He looked at me sideways, confused.
"Don't want to come?" He asked, almost mocking me. His blank stare was fierce and dull at the same time. He looked over his shoulder. "Genia!" he called, "Escort my variable to the chambers. Begin the process immediately!" The sound of footsteps approaching could be heard, and I began to cry.
"Stop!" I begged, bursting into tears, "Don't do this to me! You're scaring me!" His eyes flared a bit, showing no remorse or pity.
"Tsk, tsk," He chided. "Crying will only dry your eyes out. You will need the saline if you are to survive in cryogenic stasis for 135 years" The assistant arrived and picked me up with burly arms.
My tears of sadness turned to anger. I hated this man. I hated him so much that it hurt. I would never call him father. I would never listen to him, never do what he wanted.
"I hate you!" I screamed, being carried out of the room. He watched me be dragged away, almost laughing. "I hate you, and I will never be like you! I wish you weren't my father! DO YOU HEAR ME? I HATE YOU!" The door shut behind us, and I was all alone in a dark room, slung over someones shoulder like an unwanted load.
I was so tired...so very, very tired. My eyes drooped, and my arms went slack. The man put me on the floor, injected something into me with a syringe, and walked out. Looking around, I saw I was in a small box room. Nothing inside but darkness. Then, the chill came. It was sudden, but it came on roaring. Frost quickly overcame the walls and floor, and I found my self shivering cold. My eyesight dimmed, and I felt myself on the verge of sleep. I took one last breath before the frost overcame me, too.
Father, I thought. What's happening to me?
My heart slowed down, and I could hear the parade outside ending. The last bands marched through, and the cheers died out. I smiled. At least I had seen a parade.
I blacked out.
It would be another 135 years before I woke up again.
Manhattan, New York
The steady pitter patter of the falling rain matched the beating thumping of my heart. It was a quickened pace, rushing faster than the parade itself. I was fascinated by all of the balloons and decorations, the high spirits even on such a crummy day. Of course, the Thanksgiving parade was a big thing for little 8 year olds.
I pressed against the window of the blimp to get a closer view, intensely observing with fascinated eyes. The people marched along like ants, each one carrying its own load back to the nest. So many bright colors and floats on such a dimly lit day. My father sat in a rotating chair near the rear of the plane, working hard. He was the CEO of "P.S.Y. Inc" a combination of the owners last names. Although there were 2 other co-founders, father was the CEO and owner of the company. He had a lot of work to run it and never really had time for me. I remembered him as a very harsh person, always yelling and barking orders, his stained yellow teeth baring and flashing at anyone who dared oppose him. I never saw him much, and when I did he was always "Too busy to have time for games" maybe that was why mother had left him.
So I sat there, transfixed, eyes glued to the glass as we passed overhead. It was so fun to watch, and for a while I was focused solely on the parade down below in the city streets. Then, without warning, 2 large firm hands clasped my shoulders and dug into them. Startled, I jumped away from the clutches and backed into a corner. When I looked at the person, I was shocked to see my father, still with his hands in a clutching position and crouching on the floor. He turned to look at me and blinked with his dull grey eyes. Thunder boomed overhead.
"Hello, son" his voice was raspy and metallic, sending a chill down my spine. I shook my head, afraid and scared of the man I wished so much was not related to me. Hatred burned in his eyes like a dying flame, and he smiled crookedly."The day has come," he whispered menacingly, "For me to begin experimenting with my greatest creation" Uh oh. I didn't like this where this was going. Father was a science fanatic, and the company was built to create new weapons and technology. Lately I had overheard a secretary talking about some sort of freezer company. 'Cryogenic,' was it? I had a feeling it was what he meant by his creation. My stomach knotted and I felt queasy. I was tied to it as well. Anyone could guess that. Besides, my father never directly addressed me. Something was not right...
"Wha-wh...wha," I stammered, backing farther and farther into the corner of the room. My heart was beating faster than before, the rain harder and more furiously, "What...what are you doing?" I meant to say that, but in my nervousness it came out as "Wha-re-yad-oin-er?" my father put out a paw and began to pant like he was waiting for a bone.
"Son, come with me" he beckoned with a single finger wagging back and fourth, and I shrank away further. I wished I could disappear, or fly away. Father was scaring me. He looked at me sideways, confused.
"Don't want to come?" He asked, almost mocking me. His blank stare was fierce and dull at the same time. He looked over his shoulder. "Genia!" he called, "Escort my variable to the chambers. Begin the process immediately!" The sound of footsteps approaching could be heard, and I began to cry.
"Stop!" I begged, bursting into tears, "Don't do this to me! You're scaring me!" His eyes flared a bit, showing no remorse or pity.
"Tsk, tsk," He chided. "Crying will only dry your eyes out. You will need the saline if you are to survive in cryogenic stasis for 135 years" The assistant arrived and picked me up with burly arms.
My tears of sadness turned to anger. I hated this man. I hated him so much that it hurt. I would never call him father. I would never listen to him, never do what he wanted.
"I hate you!" I screamed, being carried out of the room. He watched me be dragged away, almost laughing. "I hate you, and I will never be like you! I wish you weren't my father! DO YOU HEAR ME? I HATE YOU!" The door shut behind us, and I was all alone in a dark room, slung over someones shoulder like an unwanted load.
I was so tired...so very, very tired. My eyes drooped, and my arms went slack. The man put me on the floor, injected something into me with a syringe, and walked out. Looking around, I saw I was in a small box room. Nothing inside but darkness. Then, the chill came. It was sudden, but it came on roaring. Frost quickly overcame the walls and floor, and I found my self shivering cold. My eyesight dimmed, and I felt myself on the verge of sleep. I took one last breath before the frost overcame me, too.
Father, I thought. What's happening to me?
My heart slowed down, and I could hear the parade outside ending. The last bands marched through, and the cheers died out. I smiled. At least I had seen a parade.
I blacked out.
It would be another 135 years before I woke up again.
"Life isn't about how hard you can hit;
it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward"
{[YT]} [|BEYBLOG|] (â—ŠSoG-My Bookâ—Š)/<DA>\
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