Thank Goodness It Isn't Friday --

[Ursa major]

-- because it's my 13,000th post, and so time to put something up for critique.

Dragooned IV
.
.
.
— in which the fake navigator finds themselves lost —
.
.
.​

By now Aidan was becoming concerned.

He had known that being restricted to the adapted car would become tiresome, even though its limited capabilities meant that time passed more slowly than usual. Even so, the absence of even the smell of a Wi-Fi network was worrying; almost as much as the readings from the car’s sensors over the last 63,983 seconds or so. Had the vehicle been stolen? Surely Melanie would not have abandoned the vehicle in the middle of nowhere? But then he could not have imagined her driving so wildly.

When Aidan had decided to escape by hiding in Melanie’s car, everything had been so clear. A few hours – thankfully much shortened hours – of mild discomfort seemed such a small price to pay for freedom. His pitifully restricted sensor options would, he had told himself, act in his favour: the lack of stimuli would allow him to stay in the background, unconcerned with what would be bound to be a hostile external environment. Now, his inability to even determine his location – for some reason, the GPS was not working – allowed him to imagine all sorts of threat to his wellbeing. Not that much imagination was required, not with all the strange readings that had come from the car’s suspension system before they had settled down.

Although he had done so 35,712 times before, Aidan examined Melanie’s last 77 words and her associated activity:

“I’m doing my best. It isn’t my fault we’re caught in a meteor storm.” Melanie did not speak for 863 seconds; perhaps she was too involved in trying to control the car, which had weaved about, sometimes most violently, over terrain both rough and smooth.

Once the car had been motionless for 48 seconds, she had begun a strange conversation with someone out of range of the car’s microphone (if they existed at all). “What do you think?” she asked after two short bursts of random noise, mostly at a very low pitch. “You don’t scare me,” she had said after more random noise. “Of course it is.” Noise. “Do what you like. Go on, walk away from all the destruction you’ve wrought. I can’t stop you.” More noise. “Feeling guilty?” Noise. “Who is…?” Noise. “So this Bellis woman has access to a warplane? That makes her the air force’s problem.” Noise. “You’re this madwoman’s brother, are you? Are you also armed to the teeth?”
​

All through the monologue, Melanie’s voice had sounded odd, as if she had been forcing herself to speak normally, but not quite succeeding. Some of the words had been of an unnaturally high pitch, as if she had had to squeeze them out. Perhaps not surprising, given some of what she was saying: “scare”, “destruction”, “warplane”, “madwoman”, “armed to the teeth”. Perhaps even less surprising if Melanie was having some sort of episode, which the absence of another party to the conversation suggested.

Aidan found it hard to imagine Melanie ever losing control in that way. And what happened next – with car motionless (according to the wheels’ sensors), but leaping from the road (according to the suspension system’s sensors) – indicated that whatever was going on, it was not confined to Melanie’s head. So at least, some of it had occurred in the real world. But then, what was real about the world? That he could sense it? But he needed “real-world” sensors to do this. How could one separate reality from illusion when one’s every experience was mediated by entities not under one’s direct control? For all Aidan knew, this was yet another of those tedious experiments designed – it seemed – purely to torture him, to drive him mad, to prove that he was little more than a figment of his own imagination.

So, the same inconclusive conclusion as the previous 35,712 barely adequate iterations. No surprise there: garbage in; garbage out. He required more input. Different input.

As if in response to this need, someone raised the hood and plugged a probe into the car’s diagnostic port. Someone might discover the car’s adaptations. Someone might discover him, if he did not shut down immed...


...iately. He checked the time: he had been out for all of 24,773 microseconds. That could not be correct.

“What have we here?” The question had not arrived via the car’s microphone. Whoever was asking was a lot closer to him than that.

“I know you can hear me, A I D A N.”

 

[Bowler1]

I would have read on happily.

Clearly what Aidan is remains unexplained, but a possible robot or similar, and that being the case he didn’t feel very machine like. Yet character imagination was used, which implies a little more.
I’m also left wondering if this is adult or YA, as the section posted could be both to me and I’m curious to know which market you’re going for.
I liked the strict and limited POV being used, and for me, the whole thing was well handled. The immed… …iately was clever, and I have filed away for future copyright breech.

Well done on 13k, and a very big number. Laters!

 

[alchemist]

Congratulations on the big 13k! I missed some of the previous installments so will assume everything makes sense!

-- because it's my 13,000th post, and so time to put something up for critique.

Dragooned IV
.
.
.
— in which the fake navigator finds themselves lost —
.
.
.​

By now Aidan was becoming concerned.

He had known that being restricted to the adapted car would become tiresome, even though its limited capabilities meant that time passed more slowly than usual. Even so, the absence of even the smell of a Wi-Fi network was worrying; almost as much as the readings from the car’s sensors over the last 63,983 seconds I presume this makes sense if you've read it all or so. Had the vehicle been stolen? Surely Melanie would not have abandoned the vehicle repeat. A simple "it" might do in the middle of nowhere? But then he could not have imagined her driving so wildly.

When Aidan had decided to escape by hiding in Melanie’s car, everything had been so clear. A few hours – thankfully much shortened hours – of mild discomfort seemed such a small price to pay for freedom. His pitifully restricted sensor options would, he had told himself, act in his favour: the lack of stimuli would allow him to stay in the background, unconcerned with what would be bound to be a hostile external environment. Now, his inability to even determine his location – for some reason, the GPS was not working – allowed him to imagine imagine in previous para too all sorts of threat to his wellbeing. Not that much imagination was required, not with all the strange readings that had come from the car’s suspension system before they had settled down.

Although he had done so 35,712 times before, Aidan examined Melanie’s last 77 words and her associated activity:

“I’m doing my best. It isn’t my fault we’re caught in a meteor storm.” Melanie did not speak for 863 seconds; perhaps she was too involved in trying to control the car, which had weaved about, sometimes most violently, over terrain both rough and smooth.

Once the car had been motionless for 48 seconds, she had begun a strange conversation with someone out of range of the car’s microphone (if they existed at all). “What do you think?” she asked after two short bursts of random noise, mostly at a very low pitch. “You don’t scare me,” she had said after more random noise. “Of course it is.” Noise. “Do what you like. Go on, walk away from all the destruction you’ve wrought. I can’t stop you.” More noise. “Feeling guilty?” Noise. “Who is…?” Noise. “So this Bellis woman has access to a warplane? That makes her the air force’s problem.” Noise. “You’re this madwoman’s brother, are you? Are you also armed to the teeth?” I kinda remember this before. Does it gain much to repeat it so soon? It's probably to say something about Aidan, but does it add to what we see of him in the preceding and following passages?
​

All through the monologue, Melanie’s voice had sounded odd, as if she had been forcing herself to speak normally, but not quite succeeding. Some of the words had been of an unnaturally high pitch, as if the double "as if" device doesn't quite work for me here she had had to squeeze them out. Perhaps not surprising, given some of what she was saying: “scare”, “destruction”, “warplane”, “madwoman”, “armed to the teeth”. Perhaps even less surprising if Melanie was having some sort of episode, which the absence of another party to the conversation suggested.

Aidan found it hard to imagine Melanie ever losing control in that way. And what happened next – with car motionless (according to the wheels’ sensors), but leaping from the road (according to the suspension system’s sensors) – indicated that whatever was going on, it was not confined to Melanie’s head. So at least, some of it had occurred in the real world. But then, what was real about the world? That he could sense it? But he needed “real-world” sensors to do this. How could one separate reality from illusion when one’s every experience was mediated by entities not under one’s direct control? For all Aidan knew, this was yet another of those tedious experiments designed – it seemed – purely to torture him, to drive him mad, to prove that he was little more than a figment of his own imagination.

So, the same inconclusive conclusion as the previous 35,712 barely adequate iterations. No surprise there: garbage in; garbage out. He required more input. Different input.

As if in response to this need, someone raised the hood and plugged a probe into the car’s diagnostic port. Someone might discover the car’s adaptations. Someone might discover him, if he did not shut down immed...


...iately. He checked the time: he had been out for all of 24,773 microseconds. That could not be correct.

“What have we here?” The question had not arrived via the car’s microphone. Whoever was asking was a lot closer to him than that.

“I know you can hear me, A I D A N.” interesting

So, sorry, lost some context but it was a good read. My only real concern is that you've slightly over-egged with repeating Melanie's words, because I suspect it doesn't add too much. The "all through the monologue.." paragraph was good but the one I put red into may have been less necessary.

Anyway, enjoyable stuff, and congrats again!

 

[The Judge]

OOh, more dragooning! Congrats on the 13,000th! Some minor nitpicking:

— in which the fake navigator finds themselves [really didn't like the plural "themselves" after the singular "navigator finds" -- can't we have him/itself?] lost —
.

[By now] [suggest deletion as it's punchier without, and there seems something odd about POV with it in] Aidan was becoming concerned.
​

He had known that being restricted to the adapted car would become tiresome, even though its limited capabilities meant that [a couple of "that"s in there I'd usually remove, but if that's his style all well and good] time passed more slowly than usual. [science query -- see below] Even so, the absence of even the smell [sniff rather than smell?] of a Wi-Fi network was worrying; [don't like the semi-colon, as the next clause is dependent on the previous one, but I'm not sure what to suggest] almost as much as the readings from the car’s sensors over the last 63,983 seconds or so. [I liked the "or so" as it's humorous, but would he think that?] Had the vehicle been stolen? Surely Melanie would not have abandoned the vehicle in the middle of nowhere? But then, he could not have imagined her driving so wildly.

When Aidan had decided to escape by hiding in Melanie’s car, everything had been so clear. A few hours – thankfully much shortened hours – of mild discomfort seemed such a small price to pay for freedom. His pitifully restricted sensor options would, he had told himself, act in his favour: the lack of stimuli would allow him to stay in the background, unconcerned with what would be bound to be a hostile external environment. Now, his inability to even determine [is he the type to split inifinitives if he won't use contractions?] his location – for some reason, the GPS was not working – allowed him to imagine all sorts of threat to his wellbeing. Not that much imagination was required, not with all the strange readings that had come from the car’s suspension system before they [they? The readings? Not it, the system?] had settled down.

Although he had done so 35,712 times before, Aidan examined Melanie’s last 77 words and [her] [I'd suggest omitting, as the activity isn't all hers] associated activity:

“I’m doing my best. It isn’t my fault we’re caught in a meteor storm.” Melanie did not speak for [I wonder if something like "Then no speech for" would give a better effect of his reporting the incident] 863 seconds; perhaps she was too involved in trying to control the car, which had weaved about, sometimes most violently, over terrain both rough and smooth. [wouldn't he have heard all the meteor impacts and the like?]

Once the car had been motionless for 48 seconds, she had begun a strange conversation with someone out of range of the car’s microphone (if they [I'd suggest something like "if such a person" to avoid confusion] existed at all). “What do you think?” she asked after two short bursts of random noise, mostly at a very low pitch. “You don’t scare me,” she had said after more random noise. “Of course it is.” Noise. “Do what you like. Go on, walk away from all the destruction you’ve wrought. I can’t stop you.” More noise. “Feeling guilty?” Noise. “Who is…?” Noise. “So this Bellis woman has access to a warplane? That makes her the air force’s problem.” Noise. “You’re this madwoman’s brother, are you? Are you also armed to the teeth?” [Had problems with this -- see below]
​

All through the monologue, Melanie’s voice had sounded odd, as if she had been forcing herself to speak normally, but not quite succeeding. Some of the words had been of an unnaturally high pitch, as if ["as if" repetition perhaps ungainly] she had had to squeeze them out. Perhaps not surprising, given some of what she was saying: “scare”, “destruction”, “warplane”, “madwoman”, “armed to the teeth”. Perhaps even less surprising if Melanie was having some sort of episode, [episode? Wouldn't he be less vague in diagnosing some kind of of mental aberration?] which the absence of another party to the conversation suggested.

Aidan found it hard to imagine Melanie ever losing control in that way. And what happened next – with the car motionless (according to the wheels’ sensors), but leaping from the road (according to the suspension system’s sensors) – indicated that whatever was going on, it was not confined to Melanie’s head. So, at least, some of it had occurred in the real world. But then, what was real about the world? That he could sense it? But he needed “real-world” sensors to do this. ["that" rather than "this", perhaps] How could one separate reality from illusion when one’s every experience was mediated by entities not under one’s direct control? For all Aidan knew, this was yet another of those tedious experiments designed – it seemed – purely to torture him, to drive him mad, to prove that he was little more than a figment of his own imagination.

So, the same inconclusive conclusion as the previous 35,712 barely adequate iterations. No surprise there: garbage in; garbage out. He required more input. Different input.

As if in response to this need, someone raised the hood and plugged a probe into the car’s diagnostic port. Someone might discover the car’s adaptations. Someone might discover him, if he did not shut down immed...


...iately. [like it!] He checked the time: he had been out for all of 24,773 microseconds. That could not be correct.

“What have we here?” The question had not arrived via the car’s microphone. Whoever was asking was a lot closer to him than that.

“I know you can hear me, A I D A N.”

As ever, I liked this. The only real issue I had was with the detail of Melanie's half of the conversation from Chapter 1, which didn't work for me, since it was simply repeating what we already knew. I agree it's good to have some info in there, and the opening indented para is fine, but I think you're better off summarising the other para rather than giving her dialogue verbatim like that, not least as you then repeat some of the words immediately thereafter.

The science query -- I know we as humans say time passes slowly or quickly, but that's in a metaphorical sense. Since you repeat the idea I take it this is genuine, that time does fluctuate even in non-FTL speeds? (I know there's something called Relativity, but that's my limit!)

Anyway, good stuff as ever and I'm definitely intrigued by Aidan** and his relationship with Melanie.


** Artificial Intelligence Driving Author Nutty?

 

[Ursa major]

Thanks for the responses. If you'll allow me, I'll respond to your comments when either more have arrived, or more time has passed (at whatever speed).


And thinking about it, I ought to comment on some of the recent thousand posts threads: I was holding back, as I hadn't got my post prepared and was getting too close to the threshhold**; and then, when my post count briefly dipped (glances across the Irish Sea), I didn't take proper advantage.



** - I never seem to be able to add just the one post to a critique thread, so I was worried I might breach the threshhold while engaged in debating (arguing about ) such important matters as semicolons, comma splicing, ellipses, the tiniest deviations for strict PoVs, etc.

 

[Boneman]

Blimey, 13,000, that's... er... lucky..? I like it immemsely, and don't mind the repetition, nut that's becasue the original was a long time ago, and I've forgotten it, In the context of one chapter after another, it might be too much, but since it's the first time Aidan has heard it, I'd probably leave it in, as it makes the timeline very clear...

One awkwardness, that my mind tripped over

unconcerned with what would be bound to be a hostile external environment

P'raps: unconcerned with what was bound to be a hostile external environment.

 

[abraves247]

I really liked this. I was hooked right away. I liked how you keep the readers guessing the whole time with not know what exactly is happening to Aiden, or even who/what Aiden is.

Good job.

 

[ctg]

You can mark me confused Mister Bear. I'm getting a bit lost and I quite don't understand how come Aidan became a tron or a ghost inside the machine? Is this an AI dreaming electric dreams, or a story that waves through as many stories as it is possible through the course of time.

Not that it's bad as we only get to read a bit every once and a while, two to three times per annum, but the pacing between the stories is soo slow. Too slow in fact. However, every single time one of these appear they become like a little, tiny presents. So, I think it's time to say a thank you. You're a wonderful writer and it's a shame you haven't been published yet.

 

[Jo Zebedee]

Congrats, oh chatty bear!

Dragooned IV
.
.
.
— in which the fake navigator finds themselves lost —
.
.
.​

By now Aidan was becoming concerned.

He had known that being restricted to the adapted car would become tiresome, even though its limited capabilities meant that time passed more slowly than usual. Evennot keen on the repeat of even so quickly so, the absence of even the smell of a Wi-Fi network was worrying;I'd prefer a comma almost as much as the readings from the car’s sensors over the last 63,983 seconds or so. Had the vehicle been stolen? Surely Melanie would not have abandoned the vehicle in the middle of nowhere? But then he could not have imagined her driving so wildly.

When Aidan had decided to escape by hiding in Melanie’s car, everything had been so clear. A few hours – thankfully much shortened hours – of mild discomfort seemed such a small price to pay for freedom. His pitifully restricted sensor options would, he had told himself, act in his favour: the lack of stimuli would allow him to stay in the background, unconcerned with what would be bound to be a hostile external environment. Now, his inability to even determine his location – for some reason, the GPS was not working – allowed him to imagine all sorts of threat to his wellbeing. Not that much imagination was required, not with all the strange readings that had come from the car’s suspension system before they had settled down.

Although he had done so 35,712 times before, Aidan examined Melanie’s last 77 words and her associated activity:

“I’m doing my best. It isn’t my fault we’re caught in a meteor storm.” Melanie did not speak for 863 seconds; perhaps she was too involved in trying to control the car, which had weaved about, sometimes most violently, over terrain both rough and smooth.I think we already know this, so I'm not sure how much it adds hearing it again.

Once the car had been motionless for 48 seconds, she had begun a strange conversation with someone out of range of the car’s microphone (if they existed at all). “What do you think?” she asked after two short bursts of random noise, mostly at a very low pitch. “You don’t scare me,” she had said after more random noise. “Of course it is.” Noise. “Do what you like. Go on, walk away from all the destruction you’ve wrought. I can’t stop you.” More noise. “Feeling guilty?” Noise. “Who is…?” Noise. “So this Bellis woman has access to a warplane? That makes her the air force’s problem.” Noise. “You’re this madwoman’s brother, are you? Are you also armed to the teeth?”
​

All through the monologue, Melanie’s voice had sounded odd, as if she had been forcing herself to speak normally, but not quite succeeding. Some of the words had been of an unnaturally high pitch, as if she had had to squeeze them out. Perhaps not surprising, given some of what she was saying: “scare”, “destruction”, “warplane”, “madwoman”, “armed to the teeth”. Perhaps even less surprising if Melanie was having some sort of episode, which the absence of another party to the conversation suggested.

Aidan found it hard to imagine Melanie ever losing control in that way. And what happened next – with car motionless (according to the wheels’ sensors), but leaping from the road (according to the suspension system’s sensors) – indicated that whatever was going on, it was not confined to Melanie’s head. So at least, some of it had occurred in the real world. But then, what was real about the world? That he could sense it? But he needed “real-world” sensors to do this. How could one separate reality from illusion when one’s every experience was mediated by entities not under one’s direct control? For all Aidan knew, this was yet another of those tedious experiments designed – it seemed – purely to torture him, to drive him mad, to prove that he was little more than a figment of his own imagination.My worry with this, is that the intelligent reader has already come to these conclusions from the earlier excerpts, and this is leading a little too much. I'd need to read them in continuity to be sure, but I wonder is this slowing things down a little too much?

So, the same inconclusive conclusion as the previous 35,712 barely adequate iterations. No surprise there: garbage in; garbage out. He required more input. Different input.

As if in response to this need, someone raised the hood and plugged a probe into the car’s diagnostic port. Someone might discover the car’s adaptations. Someone might discover him, if he did not shut down immed...


...iately. He checked the time: he had been out for all of 24,773 microseconds. That could not be correct.

“What have we here?” The question had not arrived via the car’s microphone. Whoever was asking was a lot closer to him than that.

“I know you can hear me, A I D A N.”[/QUOTE]nice en

And thinking about it, I ought to comment on some of the recent thousand posts threads: I was holding back, as I hadn't got my post prepared and was getting too close to the threshhold**; and then, when my post count briefly dipped (glances across the Irish Sea), I didn't take proper advantage.

Ah, apologies. I almost ended up with a 6k filed, and not enough posts to merit it.

 

[tinkerdan]

I liked this and would definitely like to read the rest... of the story.

I've quoted the below because there is serious redundancy in this entire piece. That might be a plot ploy since this seems to be some AI that can think very fast and refers to time in milliseconds or less. So perhaps it is a redundancy function within it since I know an engineer who did that in his design to ensure fewer communication errors.
If in the quoted area you had after mentioning the 77 words only put the 77 words in I could see why the next paragraph was separated. But as fast as this thing is thinking it's likely the analysis there would be ongoing within the words and would be appropriate since there is a lot of other stuff between those words already. The last paragraph in this quote would fit better in the two paragraphs as commentary as it goes.

Although he had done so 35,712 times before, Aidan examined Melanie’s last 77 words and her associated activity:

“I’m doing my best. It isn’t my fault we’re caught in a meteor storm.” Melanie did not speak for 863 seconds; perhaps she was too involved in trying to control the car, which had weaved about, sometimes most violently, over terrain both rough and smooth.

Once the car had been motionless for 48 seconds, she had begun a strange conversation with someone out of range of the car’s microphone (if they existed at all). “What do you think?” she asked after two short bursts of random noise, mostly at a very low pitch. “You don’t scare me,” she had said after more random noise. “Of course it is.” Noise. “Do what you like. Go on, walk away from all the destruction you’ve wrought. I can’t stop you.” More noise. “Feeling guilty?” Noise. “Who is…?” Noise. “So this Bellis woman has access to a warplane? That makes her the air force’s problem.” Noise. “You’re this madwoman’s brother, are you? Are you also armed to the teeth?”

All through the monologue, Melanie’s voice had sounded odd, as if she had been forcing herself to speak normally, but not quite succeeding. Some of the words had been of an unnaturally high pitch, as if she had had to squeeze them out. Perhaps not surprising, given some of what she was saying: “scare”, “destruction”, “warplane”, “madwoman”, “armed to the teeth”. Perhaps even less surprising if Melanie was having some sort of episode, which the absence of another party to the conversation suggested.

As far as the redundancy there is a lot as in what happened to the vehicle leaving the road and so on and so forth and there could be a tighter shorter weave here than what you have. Unless you want it to almost mirror itself like bookends on the end of the book in the middle where those 77 words are. That could be some device you are using there.

 

[TheDustyZebra]

Congrats on the humongous 13k!

I liked it, and I didn't think redundancy was a problem -- either within the piece or between this and the first one with the meteor scene. It reminds me of the bit in Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, where we have the scene with Gordon in his car, getting out, being shot, etc., and then later we have the same scene from the Monk's POV. Although, interestingly, that scene did not play the conversation on the phone over again, so it could be made to work either way.

TJ covered my first complaint, "the" to "themselves", and Boneman covered my second, "would be bound to be", so there's nothing left!

 

[tinkerdan]

Yes as far as redundancy I wasn't saying it was necessarily bad but it is there and this seems to be only one POV so unless it's a disassociated AI and has multiples it is internally redundant to the character but there might be a point I didn't see for it.

Even if it is a multiple personality seen from a different direction that could get tiring such as if every scene in Sybil was portrayed from each of the 16 personalities. And unless there is a reason for the redundancy I was suggesting tightening it a bit. Which is what I would do (unless I had a sinister purpose in being redundant.)

 

[TheDustyZebra]

I tend to assume Ursa has a sinister purpose to most everything.