Cli-Fi
John J. Falco
This is the first five pages of my WIP, a military SciFi story with heavy time travel elements I have been writing for a long time. Some of you have read some of my ideas for this story in the past. I changed some things around and finally decided on a beginning.
Chapter One:
“Warning. Radiation exposure at maximum levels. Hearing degradation down to 32%. Chaotic brainwaves detected.”
What was that? Juliet Carpenter’s thoughts begged for answers as the muffled words blasted into her eardrums like a very extreme hangover she hadn’t experienced in ages. Everything was foggy as her eyes blinked rapidly and her ears became hot. The smell of burnt flesh tickled her nostrils, and her head began to swim. She couldn’t see. Everything hurt as she tried to move her arms to ensure that all her um… assets were intact, but she couldn't.
“Warning. Radiation exposure at above maximum levels. Hearing degradation down to 29%. Chaotic brainwaves detected.” The warning became more apparent as she got her bearings and the voice recognizable. The fog was lifting, and she could see the little square window above her head. Movement returned slowly but painfully. As she wiggled her toes and fingers, she could feel a film-like milky substance sloshing around below her. Then she felt something round and moist to the touch around her no longer manicured fingertips. Gross! She almost threw up right then as she picked it up. It smelled rancid, and she chucked it away. The goo trickled down chipped nail polish as she shook off the remnants of whatever that was. Ew! Why did she pick that up?
That was almost definitely some hard chunky bodily fluids that she’d rather not think about. Where was she? This wasn’t exactly part of the brochure. As lost as she was. She did know, one thing. That this wasn’t a good sign. How often do people wake up in strange tube-like storage containers full of poop, unable to see, hear, or move? She could only think of fictional occurrences from old movies, like The Matrix or Star Wars? Wait, no, that was a garbage pit.
“Warning. Radiation exposure at above maximum levels. Hearing degradation down to 25%. Brainwaves stabilizing.”
OK, at least this wasn’t The Matrix. She thought to herself as she noted the supposed progress her brainwaves and memory were making, but why was her hearing still degrading?
“Warning. Radiation exposure at above maximum levels. Hearing degradation down to 20%. Brainwaves stabilized.” Henry, is that you? She questioned the automatic message even though she was pretty sure it was a computer that just had the likeness of Henry Wilson’s voice, her one-time mentor who got me this far. However far, this was certainly not in her playbook. Playbook…the word suddenly triggered a longing to return to the office. To her work. To the Temporal Consortium. Oh God, what had happened?
“Brain activity normal. Edupod #77 engaging reeducation protocols.”
“sh*t.” She tried and failed to say in English, but all that came out of her mouth was muffled gibberish. Of course, as soon as she finally recalled who the voice belonged to, the damn computer was threatening to wipe her memory! This was definitely not good. She desperately felt around the small enclosure, searching for a way out. With one hand, she banged on the top of the lid of the pod and flailed around for some time before she knew what she had to do. It would be gross, but she had to dip her fingers in there once again.
Within moments of hatching her plan, her mind was flooded with images. She knew what was happening. The system prepared her mind to access an unlimited stream of “educational” content from the Edupod Learning Network. It’s more like propaganda from the big tech networks, but she had more pressing matters to deal with. She quickly made a slit in the tough Velcro wire protector that snaked around the bed. This protected the feed wire and the quantum light transmissions, which helped bring information directly into the brain. With difficulty, she dug into the mush and fished out the wire so that it was inches from her mouth. She nearly gagged as she snipped it apart. It surprisingly tasted like ham. She threw the mush back. Instantly a strong electrical current sparked after she placed the chewed-up wire inches in front of the small latch between the window and the curvature of the pod.
“Starting reeducation proceed—.” A bright light filled the open window as it snapped open. From the way her nose was clogged, the way her skin felt oily between her fingers, and the skin-tight leotard thing she was wearing, the effects of the direct sunlight hitting her eyelids for the first time seemed a little underwhelming. Her body was getting used to the shock of the unknown.
It was still painful to move as she lifted her head to see more of the area that she was in. She inhaled fresh air as she ripped the hose thing out of her nostrils. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. It hurt like a motherf—but at least she could breathe now. She sighed as she took a look at her surroundings; rows, and rows of black coated edupods, each with private glass enclosures, lined the extremely tall room, but that was about it. She sighed. Of course, opening the hatch didn’t reveal much. Opening hatches has been a letdown since the classic TV show Lost did it first. She gathered that this was probably a common standard blue-collar pod, a far cry from the upper-class luxury she had expected and had demanded in her ‘will.’ What the hell was going on here? It looked like nothing had changed, and did any time go by when she was in there? She swiveled her head to something shiny and pointy out of the corner of her eye. No. It can’t be.
But it was. There for all the comatose bodies to see, was the sign for the USS Wilson. Beaming down on them like some religious statute. The sign was about as large as a forty-six-inch flat panel. Now she at least had the where she was part down in her mind. sh*t. This really isn’t good. She understood the where, but she didn’t understand the how? As a politician who dealt with time dilations and temporal disputes for most of her career, the how always interested Juliet. Mostly so that she could figure out a way to use it for some political advantage, but this was something new. This was something she had never even thought of before. No one had ever thought of this before. This was something both genius and evil at the same time. If she were on the same side of whoever thought this up, she would call them national heroes. But it was clear that she was not. Or was it?
A glimpse of the reflection in the glass freaked her out. It made no sense, and yet there she was. The bob of salt and pepper hair was gone, replaced by long shiny shoulder-length hair. The drooping of the wrinkles had been tightened, she looked down at her fingers, and they were indeed as smooth as a baby’s bottom, and was that pink nail polish?? The eyebrows and eyelashes were prepped, the breasts perky and firm. Juliet felt her butt and legs fit and toned through the tight um wet suit? She was still unsure what to call the thing she was wearing, but she was now shaking with horror after realizing that she was young!
What the f*ck am I supposed to do with this? Juliet thought to herself as the frail person she barely recognized as a younger version of herself at some point in history mouthed the words back at her.
“THERE!” Suddenly her hearing had returned to normal. That was good, but ow—my god. Shut up, man. She told to the voice that echoed throughout the glasslike spiral room while rubbing her temples. Movement felt easier now, too, that she had opened the pod. The lights flickered, and the faint light turned blue, which sparked in pulsating increments. In between the flashes, she could now see the dull ceiling of Israel Falls Nursing Home, which seemed like it was miles above her head with its crisscrossing metal beams indicating the floor levels. What was going on out there?
A bunch of soldiers in an unrecognizable military uniform ran past her pod’s lookout point. She sluggishly made her way over to the glass panel and banged on it to make as much noise as possible to get their attention.
The bullet-proof semi-transparent square glass would have revealed her green eyes and blonde-reddish hair to anybody that bothered to look in the direction of Pod #77. Strangely no one had. Anybody underneath would see her bare feet.
But the soldiers seemed more interested in the machine throwing blue sparks all over the place. She couldn’t help but notice a stack of crates on the opposite side of the room. As she peered through her viewer, things came more into focus.
“Warning: Radioactive Live Specimens.” Oh great, now what? She thought to herself. The notification system alerted them.
Chapter One:
“Warning. Radiation exposure at maximum levels. Hearing degradation down to 32%. Chaotic brainwaves detected.”
What was that? Juliet Carpenter’s thoughts begged for answers as the muffled words blasted into her eardrums like a very extreme hangover she hadn’t experienced in ages. Everything was foggy as her eyes blinked rapidly and her ears became hot. The smell of burnt flesh tickled her nostrils, and her head began to swim. She couldn’t see. Everything hurt as she tried to move her arms to ensure that all her um… assets were intact, but she couldn't.
“Warning. Radiation exposure at above maximum levels. Hearing degradation down to 29%. Chaotic brainwaves detected.” The warning became more apparent as she got her bearings and the voice recognizable. The fog was lifting, and she could see the little square window above her head. Movement returned slowly but painfully. As she wiggled her toes and fingers, she could feel a film-like milky substance sloshing around below her. Then she felt something round and moist to the touch around her no longer manicured fingertips. Gross! She almost threw up right then as she picked it up. It smelled rancid, and she chucked it away. The goo trickled down chipped nail polish as she shook off the remnants of whatever that was. Ew! Why did she pick that up?
That was almost definitely some hard chunky bodily fluids that she’d rather not think about. Where was she? This wasn’t exactly part of the brochure. As lost as she was. She did know, one thing. That this wasn’t a good sign. How often do people wake up in strange tube-like storage containers full of poop, unable to see, hear, or move? She could only think of fictional occurrences from old movies, like The Matrix or Star Wars? Wait, no, that was a garbage pit.
“Warning. Radiation exposure at above maximum levels. Hearing degradation down to 25%. Brainwaves stabilizing.”
OK, at least this wasn’t The Matrix. She thought to herself as she noted the supposed progress her brainwaves and memory were making, but why was her hearing still degrading?
“Warning. Radiation exposure at above maximum levels. Hearing degradation down to 20%. Brainwaves stabilized.” Henry, is that you? She questioned the automatic message even though she was pretty sure it was a computer that just had the likeness of Henry Wilson’s voice, her one-time mentor who got me this far. However far, this was certainly not in her playbook. Playbook…the word suddenly triggered a longing to return to the office. To her work. To the Temporal Consortium. Oh God, what had happened?
“Brain activity normal. Edupod #77 engaging reeducation protocols.”
“sh*t.” She tried and failed to say in English, but all that came out of her mouth was muffled gibberish. Of course, as soon as she finally recalled who the voice belonged to, the damn computer was threatening to wipe her memory! This was definitely not good. She desperately felt around the small enclosure, searching for a way out. With one hand, she banged on the top of the lid of the pod and flailed around for some time before she knew what she had to do. It would be gross, but she had to dip her fingers in there once again.
Within moments of hatching her plan, her mind was flooded with images. She knew what was happening. The system prepared her mind to access an unlimited stream of “educational” content from the Edupod Learning Network. It’s more like propaganda from the big tech networks, but she had more pressing matters to deal with. She quickly made a slit in the tough Velcro wire protector that snaked around the bed. This protected the feed wire and the quantum light transmissions, which helped bring information directly into the brain. With difficulty, she dug into the mush and fished out the wire so that it was inches from her mouth. She nearly gagged as she snipped it apart. It surprisingly tasted like ham. She threw the mush back. Instantly a strong electrical current sparked after she placed the chewed-up wire inches in front of the small latch between the window and the curvature of the pod.
“Starting reeducation proceed—.” A bright light filled the open window as it snapped open. From the way her nose was clogged, the way her skin felt oily between her fingers, and the skin-tight leotard thing she was wearing, the effects of the direct sunlight hitting her eyelids for the first time seemed a little underwhelming. Her body was getting used to the shock of the unknown.
It was still painful to move as she lifted her head to see more of the area that she was in. She inhaled fresh air as she ripped the hose thing out of her nostrils. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. It hurt like a motherf—but at least she could breathe now. She sighed as she took a look at her surroundings; rows, and rows of black coated edupods, each with private glass enclosures, lined the extremely tall room, but that was about it. She sighed. Of course, opening the hatch didn’t reveal much. Opening hatches has been a letdown since the classic TV show Lost did it first. She gathered that this was probably a common standard blue-collar pod, a far cry from the upper-class luxury she had expected and had demanded in her ‘will.’ What the hell was going on here? It looked like nothing had changed, and did any time go by when she was in there? She swiveled her head to something shiny and pointy out of the corner of her eye. No. It can’t be.
But it was. There for all the comatose bodies to see, was the sign for the USS Wilson. Beaming down on them like some religious statute. The sign was about as large as a forty-six-inch flat panel. Now she at least had the where she was part down in her mind. sh*t. This really isn’t good. She understood the where, but she didn’t understand the how? As a politician who dealt with time dilations and temporal disputes for most of her career, the how always interested Juliet. Mostly so that she could figure out a way to use it for some political advantage, but this was something new. This was something she had never even thought of before. No one had ever thought of this before. This was something both genius and evil at the same time. If she were on the same side of whoever thought this up, she would call them national heroes. But it was clear that she was not. Or was it?
A glimpse of the reflection in the glass freaked her out. It made no sense, and yet there she was. The bob of salt and pepper hair was gone, replaced by long shiny shoulder-length hair. The drooping of the wrinkles had been tightened, she looked down at her fingers, and they were indeed as smooth as a baby’s bottom, and was that pink nail polish?? The eyebrows and eyelashes were prepped, the breasts perky and firm. Juliet felt her butt and legs fit and toned through the tight um wet suit? She was still unsure what to call the thing she was wearing, but she was now shaking with horror after realizing that she was young!
What the f*ck am I supposed to do with this? Juliet thought to herself as the frail person she barely recognized as a younger version of herself at some point in history mouthed the words back at her.
“THERE!” Suddenly her hearing had returned to normal. That was good, but ow—my god. Shut up, man. She told to the voice that echoed throughout the glasslike spiral room while rubbing her temples. Movement felt easier now, too, that she had opened the pod. The lights flickered, and the faint light turned blue, which sparked in pulsating increments. In between the flashes, she could now see the dull ceiling of Israel Falls Nursing Home, which seemed like it was miles above her head with its crisscrossing metal beams indicating the floor levels. What was going on out there?
A bunch of soldiers in an unrecognizable military uniform ran past her pod’s lookout point. She sluggishly made her way over to the glass panel and banged on it to make as much noise as possible to get their attention.
The bullet-proof semi-transparent square glass would have revealed her green eyes and blonde-reddish hair to anybody that bothered to look in the direction of Pod #77. Strangely no one had. Anybody underneath would see her bare feet.
But the soldiers seemed more interested in the machine throwing blue sparks all over the place. She couldn’t help but notice a stack of crates on the opposite side of the room. As she peered through her viewer, things came more into focus.
“Warning: Radioactive Live Specimens.” Oh great, now what? She thought to herself. The notification system alerted them.
