A Chapter from my Novel in Progress / Impressions and advice welcomed!!

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I'm writing my first novel - currently 3/4 of the way done with book one. 

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I'm currently (as I'm sure all writers do) wrestling with the "Good Enough" beast. Of course you ask family/friends to read what you've got or attempt to bounce plot ideas off them but there is always that nagging "sympathy" question at hand. Are they telling me it's good because they don't want to hurt my feelings? 

With that in mind, I've decided to post a segmented chapter from within my book. I would be forever grateful to any comments, advice, or hate it's even. Steeming ahead full force on this has proven difficult and I'm hoping some good responses may rekindle my bruised ego.. yes, I can admit this is certainly a problem I must conquer - but I believe I will finish the book regardless just because I want to explore these concepts, characters and possibilities but I'd be beaming to know someone else sees the worth in this story. 

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your bird is sick with something

hope this message makes it back

meeting is set

we will inform our affiliates

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Greyson left the translation sitting on the long table, waiting for me. 

The room is empty except for the table and chairs; the blank cement walls stare at me. I sit back down in the same chair and rest my head on the table. 

It's going to be an afternoon of waiting. Ghost will be writing the new code and Arden will be sorting gear until Lincoln arrives. As I drag my head up from the table I admire the dingy basement room of our newest home away from home.  It's not half bad here. We haven't been located and that's all we can hope for, really. 

The dry, gray walls remind me of the labs. Every underground, windowless room always turns my thoughts in the lab's direction. The cold penetrates my bones. The hum of our generator begins to remind me too much of the hum of the computers and machines. 

I need fresh air.

As I climb the stairs to the roof I begin to feel better; more alive. My lungs burn but my legs keep pushing. Simply being able to walk and enjoy the exertion is so precious to me now, so few people are able to do it. In these times it's logical to be grateful simply that my brain is in full control of my body, that I can choose to climb these stairs and go out onto the roof. 

This building was discovered totally by dumb luck and the best part is the view - it may be half obscured by cages but it's lovely.  Arden was ecstatic when Ghost divulged the secret of the rooftop. Those two didn't even tell Greyson or myself for almost 12 hours. But, in a time where privacy is nonexistent and lounging outside is a death sentence, I can understand why they hid their secret slice of heaven. 

It is a gift to look out at the sky, at the city and appreciate its beauty. Sure, a Net User could look up images of this exact spot- probably a panoramic 'live' view from any of the thousands of city cameras or satellites but is that really seeing? Really feeling the view? 

I cannot say for certain because I have not used a single Net service in almost 5 years - but who's to say the upgrades were not actually down grades and all those shells are in some kind of virtual hell. Perhaps they're slaves or maybe they're unconscious and being milked for their energy like cows feeding a farmer.

My thoughts run dry as I reach the roof door and it's already propped open. I squint in preparation for the daylight and once my eyes adjust I bend down and make sure the brick is set back in the doorway. The smell hits first, followed immediately by the distant coos of a few pigeons. The cages are mostly empty now but whoever used to live here must have loved birds because there must be at least 50 cages stacked up like a zoo themed maze. 

The cages create the perfect hideout. I sit down facing west and watch the sun hang over the city. Empty windows reflect back at me like dead eyes, open and staring. 

Opening my bag I pull out one of my father's books. I flip through its pages quickly, the worn papers pass by my nose, giving off that old smell of comfort.    

“Missing the woods yet?” Greyson's voice rings out from amid the cages.

As he appears, his smile tells me he already knows my answer.

“Maybe, a bit.” 

He sits down in the chair across from me and stretches his arms up high.

“What I'm missing are those blackberries. Lincoln better have brought some!” His eyes shine in the sun as he laughs a little. 

And I laugh too. 

“What's so funny to you, huh?” 

“I couldn't help but notice the gray strands in your hair and beard, they just sparkle in this lighting.” Speaking it makes me laugh more, and when he starts laughing too, I laugh even harder.

“You're really something, you know that?”    

I nod.

The afternoon shadows are slow and allow night to creep in undetected. The sun is still a ways from setting but it has begun its westward journey, gliding through empty city streets and stark bare highways. 'This is the Future.' One of the many SmarTex slogans fired at society from every screen and speaker during the Transition. The city is clutter free with no people to pass through to and disturb its cleanliness. Is this the future anyone wanted?    

“Planning to do some reading?” He points at the book in my lap. 

“It's one of Liam's.” I gaze at the red cover and notice every crack and tear on it. The binding is soft, perfectly worn in that special way when the covers haven't torn off yet but it rests open with ease. It begs me to flip through its handwritten pages. 

“He was quite the writer. We lost a seasoned contributor to our underground libraries when he passed. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe I may have read that one before.” 

As he reaches out I hand it over. He fans through glancing momentarily at one page or another before moving on.

“Oh, here it is. Very fitting.” He straightens and holds the book at a bit of a distance, clearing his throat. 

“When the blood in your veins returns to the sea, and the earth in your bones returns to the ground, perhaps then you will remember that this land does not belong to you. It is you who belong to this land.” 

I remember this segment: Natives of a World Before Industry. 

Many of my hours have been spent reading the words and dwelling on the sketches in this section. 

“He really loved those ancient people and their beliefs. Sometimes I wonder whether he may have invented them inside his own mind. The way he describes them...” Forrsure I will sound insensitive or disrespectful but I continue on because I need to share my opinion with someone.

“The traditions and beliefs he writes about seem so alien, much too perfect and idealistic. A society could never survive in harmony like that. How could the people thrive in such laborious lifestyles? And furthermore, how could the planet have ever produced enough food to sustain the populations he depicts?” I shrug and lean back into my chair. Will he agree that my father could have created these people in his imagination, possibly what he hoped an ancient society could have been? 

Greyson’s face hardens as he presses his palms together. 

“So you've clearly eaten up the Corporation's educational system bullshit. That's disappointing. I would've thought at least a small portion of Liam's sense would've been passed down.” 

Agitation flares through me fueled by embarrassment. Through narrow eyes I glare at him. 

“No. I see that some of the past has been altered. I do believe, no... I know that technology hasn't always existed. Computers were invented only a hundred and fifty or so years ago. I know there was once a time when the Corporations did not rule. I've realized SmarTex and E-meriCorp among the others, stole the planet and established their plutocracy and without much resistance to boot. 

“I guess what I was trying to say is that some of the concepts he writes about make me question everything. If the Ancient Native people were as Liam describes and did truly inhabit this world at some point, I just can't comprehend how society malignantly mutated into this shit…

“The way he writes about their culture, their spirit; makes me hope there is more to being human, as if we were put here for some great purpose, something bigger than self gratification and consumption. As if there is more to life than earning credits and social status. It scares me to think we lost that special gift. I feel less guilty when I tell myself Liam could have concocted all this in his head.”

The light breeze cools the streaks of tears on my cheeks; I start to wipe them away but my hands stay, holding my face on, and my brain together.

“Veda, 'sometimes a fact can crack your life’s foundation as you're forced to accept it as true. But what's wrong with starting new? The secret is to find strength in knowing the universe is self-regulating. There is always something better waiting to evolve. The present door is only open because one in the past has closed.' Those were his exact words to me after I read this book the first time. I ruminated on those words for years before I finally came to understand what he meant.” 

A sympathetic smile grew on his face. “I know it's not the same coming from me, I'm sure you'd much rather be talking with him right now, but you have to stay grateful. You have his thoughts immortalized in your possession. And there are quite a few other books floating through the underground libraries.” He pats my knee and holds out the book. 

I do feel grateful as I reach out and take it back. Moronically I hug it and laugh off my silliness.

“So, if I am to take his words as truths, then I believe it was this truth that broke him. 

"Logic fueled his paranoia, he explained that piece to me. And I can admit I too found very disturbing, the bizarre and unnecessary need for control which motivates the Corps. What can be gained from storing every bit of information each person accumulates? What is the reasoning behind cataloging every human being? I began to feed into his conspiracy theories immediately. Fear and paranoia are wonderful kindling... But this,” tapping the book, “This is a whole different beast. Knowing there is a spirit inside us and that the Corporations stamped it out somewhere along the line...” Information clogs up my brain stealing my words. With my mind so full, I have to stay silent.

“Yes.” Greyson looks towards the birds and then to me. “This,” he cocks his thumb backwards at the cages. “This is not how life should be. No living being should spend their life in a cage, whether physical or mental. We were meant for so much more.” He slips off into silence and we stare through the cages.

“You're lookin' like you need some silence in your life, Veda. Sit and listen for a while. Ruminate. You will find your answers.” With his point made, Greyson stands, coos a bit at our pigeons and heads to the door. 

Perhaps he's right. I haven't had a moment of peace in a while and so many thoughts are racing through my mind. I need to look inwards and sort these facts out. Laying the beat up book aside, I close my eyes and become still. I focus my attention on the air I breathe in and listen to the soundtrack of my heart beat. I slip into a grateful silence. 

Thank you for reading! Any comments are welcome! 

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I'm a writer, artist and activist. My mission is to bring the little bit of knowledge and experience I have to my community through my art, writing and actions. I believe building real communities, based in mutual respect, can change the world person by person. And We are doing it, We've been putting in the work. The Revolution is taking place and if you haven't noticed it in your corner of the world well, then you better stand up and be that in whatever way is right for you.