Some of you may remember [url=http://www.facepunch.com/showthread.php?t=771248]this thread[/url] about me wanting to write a novel around the idea of the Earth changing its orientation. Well, I actually did get started on it, and am having a great time. Here is the prologue, and the first chapter: I want to see what the harshest critics on the Internet think.
Prologue (needs a bit of tweaking to fit mood, I'm thinking of getting rid of the "There are two things all disasters have in common" paragraph, see if it reads better):
[quote]
The year 2030 was marked as the year industrial civilization fell into collapse.
A catastrophe occurred which threw the Earth onto its side, changing its orbit and slowing down its rotation. Consequently, the little blue planet, fourth from our sun, became scarred into a Taoist distinction. One half of the world became permanently dark; one half of the world remained in light. Both sides of this new civilization found themselves faced with a physical, political, and socioeconomic Armageddon.
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In the year 2010, breakthroughs in nanotechnology revolutionized the way the world worked. Fleshy, physical limits were overcome as the bugs were eliminated from our flawed human software. Humans could now see farther, run faster, and have orgasms on demand. Medicine truly became the stuff of miracles, as programmed miniature robots honed in and eliminated cancers and viruses precisely and efficiently. Regenerative medicine became a mainstream reality. New alloys were formed. And, lastly, the entertainment business burst the floodgate with a sea of possibility.
The next decade and a half, however, showed that this technological angel hailed not only a rapture, but also fire and brimstone, as political tensions rose over control of the new innovations. Gaps between wealthy, industrialized nations in the northern hemisphere and the less developed in the southern hemisphere seemed to widen, as control of nanotechnology stayed in selfish arms.
An interesting economic situation arose as a consequence. The rate of industrial and urban development accelerated through the roof due to nanotech; however, as these statistics skyrocketed, the levels of arable land began to deplete. There was no land to grow food.
The nano-empowered superpowers of the northern hemisphere thence turned to the lesser developed countries in the southern hemisphere for land, and therefore for food. Humanity, being a champion of its flesh, a master to its world, and a god to its fate, is still humbled by its most basic need. A new economy arose, based around the exchange of food tickets for technology, organic for artificial. In order to sustain its vast cities’ populations and avoid poverty, the northern hemisphere became dependent on the southern hemisphere, achieving a balance.
Then, the Earth tilted.
The southern hemisphere found itself in the dark, becoming a cold, barren, and lifeless wasteland, freezing over the oceans and getting rid of the biggest resource needed for a plant’s sustenance: the sun. The society of the northern hemisphere was extremely affected, with food riots ensuing, and a magnetic surge depleting the capability of most technology, leading to more disorder amongst the populations in the mega city. Humanity was back to square one.
The world was chaos, but it was balanced.
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There are two things which all catastrophes have in common. The first is inevitability. The second is that never in history has there been a disaster which can be attributed to one thing. Each adversity has a catalyst that sends its consequences skyrocketing, but not without a strong backing of a string of failures, leading up to a breaking point. Be it Hitler or Hindenburg, Chechnya or Chernobyl, collapse never contains anything less than a fair warning. The world’s back would break; it was just a matter of the right straw on the right camel at the right time.
The year is 2050. The Darkside has evolved into a place of sheer anarchy, with the murder, the rapist and the thief flourishing in their natural element: the night. The drive for survival overwhelms most rational thoughts, and in the face of cold, hunger, and darkness, it’s the drive that becomes most prevalent.
The monolithic down spiral into this dark duality could not have been averted, but nevertheless prepared for. Still, we were not ready. Because, in the end, nothing in the world can prepare us for something as dark as our own human nature…
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Chapter 1:
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The tundra stretched out for miles, from one corner of the horizon to the next. Anne Harroway was dying, and what little she could see was ice and guidelights. If she was going to die, she wished the landscape would be a lot more interesting. It was ice, all ice, and nothing but ice for as far as the eye can see.
[I]Which isn’t a whole lot, all things given[/I], she thought. Even with guidelights, the darkness did less than arbitrate a path for her icy trek. Senses were all but a blur, with winds temperamentally howling through the soundscape and ice clouds shredding what little chance the moon had to throw a dim light upon the vastness. Still, what the physical eye couldn’t see, the mind’s eye attempted to make up for; in both cases, there was no end in sight. A deep sense of isolation reigned.
This feeling would be less of a problem if Harroway had implants that enhanced her senses, but she was never a fan of their usage, even before what people are calling the Transition. Her scientific work often benefited from the interesting carnival of perversions presented by a short lived nano-bio-info-cog revolution, but she opted for externals every chance she had. Currently her kit was a haphazard array of mild scientific instruments, most of which burned out, drained of power and only flirted with over two decades ago. None of them really helped in a situation as foreign as a secular Helgardh, and a dangling, nearly severed arm. A sheet of metal was grafted to Anne’s flesh, keeping the now twinned humerus hanging together. It was nothing but a gruesome makeshift cast; a mix of morphine, artificial blood, and some preoccupied thinking kept the pain at bay, and helped stop any more loss of blood.
[I]Two decades since life was flipped topside…[/I] she was sure it was that long, but taking a chance on her human heuristics did not appeal to her sensibilities. However, humanity’s leftovers seemed to agree that whatever occurred did so that long ago. Clockwork may have run down and the cycle of the day may be dead at the hands of the universe, but life went on and people still aged. Physically, Anne figured herself to be a fourtysomething, and if she was 23 when she was marooned on this side of the planet, then perhaps it was the year 2049, or 2050. This made sense, and she stuck with it.
There were more pressing matters than the time, such as keeping oneself alive; Harroway’s tattered and torn middle aged body impressed that message upon itself with a great force that gouged out her focus, shocking her into collapse. On the cold, hard ground, out of time and out of sight, she writhed, her spasmodic shrieks of pain muffled by both the wind and her breathing mask. Obviously, her anesthetic mélange had worn off, and her arm once again began to pour its vitae. Artificial scabs created by the nanotech staved back the worst, but what was coming out could still shock anyone less than a doctor. A small light attached to her chest was blinking out her cling to life, and it began to flash more frequently has her heart paced faster. It was increasing steadily.
The blood stained through the coat like a bad contagion. Harroway tried to hone away the pain, then rolled onto her left, and willed her less damaged arm to purpose. Lying on her side upon the painful perpetrator in rocky permafrost did not seem wise, but half of her arm was effectively dead, and it let her right be free to rummage amongst the backpack for her one chance at life.
Her tactility made out the shapes; she felt her map, and two canisters containing the documents which got her into this damn mess. She found her flashlight without charge, and her flare gun only one flare. Her hefty battery pack which all her life support was wired to was still there, shuffling casually. Lastly, she scrounged out her savior: an empty vial which carried her blood replacement, and two others, still full.
The light was flashing even faster now as her pulse rose from excitement, and the bleeding was stimulated. Harroway gained all her strength and pulled out a vial, full of a dark red liquid, which seemingly had a sense of life. She hoisted her arm in the air, and let gravity do its job: Harroway’s arm collapsed, and a short needle found its way into the upper echelons of her arm. She applied pressure, and the crimson concoction did the rest.
The bleeding relieved, and Anne, completely out of energy, curled up and whimpered out the rest of the pain. Now that problem was over, but what of the wind and cold? Chances are she only pushed her end back.
The strings of her consciousness began to unravel. Guidelights were still burning in the distance; they were twinkling on the amber glow of her holographic wristband, and she couldn’t tell if whether it was the interface that was dimming, or her life. Still, it was pretty. “As if a god called down the stars to give them a second chance,” she caught herself saying.
She really wished she had a second chance right now.
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I think it's very interesting. The writing is good, but at times it seems too much, like when you're describing Harroway trying to save her own life:
[quote]Harroway’s arm collapsed, and a short needle found its way into the upper echelons of her arm. She applied pressure, and the crimson concoction did the rest.[/quote]
But other than that, I say keep going. You must have a teacher or a friend that can help along the way; it was very bold of you to show Facepunch 2 chapters of your story.
However, the 'two things which all catastrophes have in common' paragraph didn't seem out of place at all. But I guess there's something all too common about a disaster of this caliber happening in the near future; maybe try changing the date to make it seem like an alternate history, like 2001 or 2010? That way you can really come up with a lot of ideas. Yes, keep writing.
Interesting read, I would say that you should work on the cohesiveness of your writing, as I was reading it everything felt very separate and unrelated, as if it was in bullet points or is abridged, which makes it a lot less engaging.
[quote]Harroway’s arm collapsed, and a short needle found its way into the upper echelons of her arm. She applied pressure, and the crimson concoction did the rest.[/quote]
As said above me, this seems to be an extremely trivial event to describe in such detial, and I'd also point out that the term "upper echelons" couldn't really have been used more poorly here, it's usually used to mean the highest level or teir in terms of classifying something (e.g. quality), not the highest part of something.
Thanks guys. I want to catch my vices before they get worse, and one of them is definitely my segmented style; I'm really glad that you're nevertheless enjoying it.
I think I'll keep this up with a couple more chapters, but not the entire book. Once again, I appreciate criticism so much.
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