Rising up from the warm tile floor, Donnor went in search of a service hatchway. Not more than 40 steps from his observation post he found the first one, and lucky for him, it was for the exact supplies carts that were going into the mystery door. He waited for a cart to come out of the hatch and dove through the opening before it could close behind. He landed roughly on the metal mesh cart track, scraping a gash into his elbow and taking a mild shock from the electrified grid before he could get to his crepe-soled feet to protect himself.
Gripping his bleeding elbow, Donnor looked around at the world of automated service machines he had entered. Everything was precise, sterile and hermetically sealed. Metal gleamed, rubber shone softly, and robot arms reached and placed, filled and filed all with a quiet whooshing sound like a heartbeat. Hospital infection rates were controlled partly by this quiet and clean efficiency behind the scenes. He felt momentarily guilty for the drops of blood that were falling to the mesh floor, but quickly banished the thought – he had never been sick a day in his life so there was very little chance he was carrying an infection, and besides a few drops of blood were nothing compared to his planned vandalism.
Moving cautiously along the grid, Donnor worked his way past the first rank of robot arms and deeper into the system. He needed to get far enough back to reach the un-activated carts. That way his tinkering wouldn’t set off any alarm bells.
The further back he moved the dimmer the light became, as fewer machines had active sensor lights. Gradually, his vision was reduced to the faint glimmer of the track below his feet, and the infrared glow of his embedded watch. He turned his wrist so that the pale light added what strength it could to his path.
Feeling his way carefully with his toes, Donnor inched along the path until he came to the cart storage facility at the end of the line. Here was rank after rank of supply carts, returned from the sterilization wash, sitting in standby mode, waiting to be summoned from electronic slumber.
Donnor pulled his pencil box from his pocket. The box was his own invention, built in applied robotics. Any casual scan simply revealed a very old-fashioned container for holding pencils and other archaic writing implements. He had told his teacher it was for storing some antiques inherited from his Grandmother. In fact, each of the 6 ‘pencils’ stored inside were highly advanced multi-tools. He had ‘found’ most of the technology in the University Robotics lab while on a field trip there when he was 13.
It had taken him two years of fiddling to discover what he had and how to use it. In the end run, by combining what he had found at the University with the basic student kit in his robotics course he had been able to direct his robots to build a red and blue laser, a fuser, a pocket sun, a holo-jector, and a flexi-chip interface; all cleverly disguised as harmless mementos that would evade security scans.
Power for the tools came from a perpetual fusion battery disguised in the base of the box.
Donnor pulled pocket sun from its cradle in the box, automatically activating its power. He projected his sun just above his head, and dialed up the light just enough to be able to see the electric panel on the front upper corner of the first cart. He slid the sun pencil into the chest pocket of his shirt (a fashion faux pas that he took a lot of grief for at school – pockets in shirts are entirely L.C.) and picked up the red laser. With quick deft strokes he removed the faceplate of the cart in front of him.
As he had expected, the electronic workings of the cart were all grouped to the front in a narrow space between the outer paneling and the break-wall that sealed off the supply hatch. This way, if a loaded cart needed repair or service, the technician never came in contact with the supply chamber.
Rising from his crouch, Donnor went around the cart to check out the supply hatch. It was his bad luck to have chosen a medicine dispenser cart first. This cart’s supplies space was entirely taken up by a complex system of conveyor belts which could feed the correct medications to patients one by one. No room for a teen-aged boy in this cart.
Donnor used his blue laser to seal the damage to the cart and moved down the line. This time he checked the supply chambers on the carts first. Food carts with larger versions of the medicine dispenser system; dirty laundry carts which would douse the contents with boiling steam as soon as the hatch door closed; clean laundry carts which had too many narrow shelves to allow space for a teen-aged boy; cart after cart proved useless and Donnor was beginning to think he would have to abandon the plan when he came to a row of carts that were slightly longer than the others.
The space in this cart was more than ample to allow for Donnor’s presence and judging by the size, his weight would not trip any sensors. All he would need to do now is program the sensor to tell the robots the cart was already full, and ride it into the room behind the forbidden doors.
A few minutes of work had the front panel open, and the interface tool effectively inserted. Donnor studied the holographic image his tool projected in the air above the panel. He found the appropriate switch, triggered it into the ‘full’ position and then used his fuser to seal it that way. For a few days this cart would both exit and return to the cleaning and storage facility labeled ‘full’ – until auto maintenance caught the problem and alerted a technician.
Sealing the control panel closed once again, Donnor maneuvered the cart out of the storage row and onto the electrified path. It began to move forward immediately and he jogged to catch up and climb into the supply hatch, pulling the door closed behind him. In the enclosed space of the cart his pocket sun was blazingly bright and he quickly dialed it down to a dimmer setting.
All he had to do now was wait for the automatic system to deliver him behind the door.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Day 2 and 3 - Reality Bites!
Finding time to write is going to be a real challenge while I am working 14 hour days! But, hey! There is always the weekends! And who needs sleep anyway? One note - I am trying to get up at 6 am and write for a couple of hours - anyone who knows me knows that 6am is not my best time of the day. A nice mug of English Breakfast Tea, sweet and white, (thanks for that particular obsession Derek!) seems to help! Anyway here is the update for Monday and Tuesday:
Rising up from the warm tile floor, Donnor went in search of a service hatchway. Not more than 40 steps from his observation post he found the first one, and lucky for him, it was for the exact supplies carts that were going into the mystery door. He waited for a cart to come out of the hatch and dove through the opening before it could close behind. He landed roughly on the metal mesh cart track, scraping a gash into his elbow and taking a mild shock from the electrified grid before he could get to his crepe-soled feet to protect himself.
Gripping his bleeding elbow, Donnor looked around at the world of automated service machines he had entered. Everything was precise, sterile and hermetically sealed. Metal gleamed, rubber shone softly, and robot arms reached and placed, filled and filed all with a quiet whooshing sound like a heartbeat. Hospital infection rates were controlled partly by this quiet and clean efficiency behind the scenes. He felt momentarily guilty for the drops of blood that were falling to the mesh floor, but quickly banished the thought – he had never been sick a day in his life. If anyone’s blood was clean, his was.
Moving cautiously along the grid, Donnor worked his way past the first rank of robot arms and deeper into the system. He needed to get far enough back to reach the un-activated carts. That way his tinkering wouldn’t set off any alarm bells.
The further back he moved the dimmer the light became, as fewer machines had active sensor lights. Gradually, his vision was reduced to the faint glimmer of the track below his feet, and the infrared glow of his embedded watch. He turned his wrist so that the pale light added what strength it could to his path.
Feeling his way carefully with his toes, Donnor inched along the path until he came to the cart storage facility at the end of the line. Here was rank after rank of supply carts, returned from the sterilization wash, sitting in standby mode, waiting to be summoned from electronic slumber.
Monday, November 02, 2009
NaNoWriMo Day 1
Donnor was bored. The hospital staff wouldn’t let him dance, or play interactive vids or ping his friends, or even pull his feeds and sort the news from the trivia. In fact, his brain-tenna was automatically tuned out when he entered the facility and would not resume broadcast until he left the building. No wonder so many people died in this place – boredom is a killer!
Leaving his Mother at his Grandmother’s bedside, Donnor wandered the halls looking for anything to take his attention off the mind-numbing quiet. No music. No background commentary, not even any ad-vids to break the monotony - just corridor after corridor of artificially homey décor, steroid enhanced plants and soothing colors.
It was completely rankerous, Donnor thought, that the hospital employees were allowed to keep their brain-tennas tuned in – even if only to Government approved channels. He slouched down the halls kicking out at random planters, carts and dispensing stations, wishing he was anywhere rather than here.
Turning a corner Donnor came up against a door clearly marked ‘White Coats, Pink & Whites and Mothers only beyond this point’.
Finally! Here was something to get his mind off the lack of brain-tainment. Donnor had never been able to resist the temptation of the forbidden. From the time he was a little kid he was drawn to the things he was denied by his Mother or the Watchers. Tell him he was not to climb trees and he went into full monkey mode. Mention that the school was off limits after dark and it became his night-time haunt.
“One of these days,” was his Mother’s constant litany, “you are going to get into trouble you can’t get out of.”
Shaking off the ghost of her warning, Donnor considered the security pad on the door in front of him. It was a flex-plastic palm reader that read not only the lines of the palm, but the contours of the hand. Not easy to fool. Of course, in the vids you would just mob some unsuspecting Doctor, knock her out (or chop off her hand if you were violently inclined) and use her hand to gain access.
There was no real way to just sneak through when someone else opened the door – the entrance censor would sound the intruder alert. He moved back to a position across the hall and slid to the floor next to a giant violet. The 2 meter high blooms gave him great cover, and if anyone did notice him, with his spiky black hair and slumped posture, he would just look like another bored teenager.
The longer Donnor stared at the door the more intrigued he became. Unlike other similar passage doors in the hospital, this door had no plexi-panes to allow you to see the hallway beyond.
Whenever a Doctor approached, they checked the hallway behind to ensure they weren’t watched before pressing their hand into the flexi reader. The doors slid open for the briefest of moments, revealing a flash of electra-sun washed space before sliding firmly closed again.
For the supplies carts the doors did not slide back at all. As the self propelled carts arrived, a port appeared in the left hand door only fractionally bigger than the cart itself. The cart whisked through, and the port closed seamlessly into the door once again. The fit was so perfect that not even a glint of sun-light bled through.
Donnor sat and studied the door for a long time. By now his Mother would have finished her visit with his Grandmother and would probably have headed to the Vac without him. He had been riding the Vacuum cars on his own since he was 8, and she was used to him disappearing. As long as he made it home before general curfew was sounded she never worried too much.
As afternoon turned to evening an idea gradually began to dawn – it would involve some vandalism and destruction of hospital property, and it might mean a spell in deten if he got caught, but the intrigue was too much to bear. Donnor had to see what was on the other side of those doors – he would take his chancequences.
Leaving his Mother at his Grandmother’s bedside, Donnor wandered the halls looking for anything to take his attention off the mind-numbing quiet. No music. No background commentary, not even any ad-vids to break the monotony - just corridor after corridor of artificially homey décor, steroid enhanced plants and soothing colors.
It was completely rankerous, Donnor thought, that the hospital employees were allowed to keep their brain-tennas tuned in – even if only to Government approved channels. He slouched down the halls kicking out at random planters, carts and dispensing stations, wishing he was anywhere rather than here.
Turning a corner Donnor came up against a door clearly marked ‘White Coats, Pink & Whites and Mothers only beyond this point’.
Finally! Here was something to get his mind off the lack of brain-tainment. Donnor had never been able to resist the temptation of the forbidden. From the time he was a little kid he was drawn to the things he was denied by his Mother or the Watchers. Tell him he was not to climb trees and he went into full monkey mode. Mention that the school was off limits after dark and it became his night-time haunt.
“One of these days,” was his Mother’s constant litany, “you are going to get into trouble you can’t get out of.”
Shaking off the ghost of her warning, Donnor considered the security pad on the door in front of him. It was a flex-plastic palm reader that read not only the lines of the palm, but the contours of the hand. Not easy to fool. Of course, in the vids you would just mob some unsuspecting Doctor, knock her out (or chop off her hand if you were violently inclined) and use her hand to gain access.
There was no real way to just sneak through when someone else opened the door – the entrance censor would sound the intruder alert. He moved back to a position across the hall and slid to the floor next to a giant violet. The 2 meter high blooms gave him great cover, and if anyone did notice him, with his spiky black hair and slumped posture, he would just look like another bored teenager.
The longer Donnor stared at the door the more intrigued he became. Unlike other similar passage doors in the hospital, this door had no plexi-panes to allow you to see the hallway beyond.
Whenever a Doctor approached, they checked the hallway behind to ensure they weren’t watched before pressing their hand into the flexi reader. The doors slid open for the briefest of moments, revealing a flash of electra-sun washed space before sliding firmly closed again.
For the supplies carts the doors did not slide back at all. As the self propelled carts arrived, a port appeared in the left hand door only fractionally bigger than the cart itself. The cart whisked through, and the port closed seamlessly into the door once again. The fit was so perfect that not even a glint of sun-light bled through.
Donnor sat and studied the door for a long time. By now his Mother would have finished her visit with his Grandmother and would probably have headed to the Vac without him. He had been riding the Vacuum cars on his own since he was 8, and she was used to him disappearing. As long as he made it home before general curfew was sounded she never worried too much.
As afternoon turned to evening an idea gradually began to dawn – it would involve some vandalism and destruction of hospital property, and it might mean a spell in deten if he got caught, but the intrigue was too much to bear. Donnor had to see what was on the other side of those doors – he would take his chancequences.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
NaNo Officially Begins
This year's novel:
Wish me luck!
Unwilling Donor
Donnor was bored. The hospital staff wouldn’t let him dance, or play interactive vids or ping his friends, or even pull his feeds and sort the news from the trivia. In fact, his brain-tenna was automatically tuned out when he entered the facility and would not resume broadcast until he left the building. No wonder so many people died in this place – boredom is a killer!Total of 500 words today - that is a poor start, but I will be up at 6 am in the morning to write.
Leaving his Mother at his Grandmother’s bedside Donnor wandered the halls looking for anything to take his mind off the mind-numbing quiet. No music. No background commentary, not even any ad-vids to break the monotony - just corridor after corridor of artificially homey décor, steroid enhanced plants and soothing colors.
It was completely rankerous, Donnor thought, that the hospital employees were allowed to keep their brain-tennas tuned in – even if only to Government approved channels. He slouched down the halls kicking out at random planters, carts and dispensing stations, wishing he was anywhere rather than here.
Wish me luck!
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Things That Stop Me From Writing
Work
Stress
Work
14 Hour Days
Excuses
Work
But NANO is coming - I must get control of this!!
This year's novel - an alternate reality vision of the future - with Pirates!
Stress
Work
14 Hour Days
Excuses
Work
But NANO is coming - I must get control of this!!
This year's novel - an alternate reality vision of the future - with Pirates!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
How to Get Back to Writing
I have written over 300,000 words since April and I haven't written a thing.
Colon Cleansing
Dermatological TV
Puppy Training
Escort Services in London
Automating Your Home
More Colon Cleansing
Snake Oil of Many Types
Domestic Violence
Prostitution
Sigh - all those words wasted on things, excepting the occasional bright spot, that have no meaning.
I think free-lance writing is not so good for a novelist!
Colon Cleansing
Dermatological TV
Puppy Training
Escort Services in London
Automating Your Home
More Colon Cleansing
Snake Oil of Many Types
Domestic Violence
Prostitution
Sigh - all those words wasted on things, excepting the occasional bright spot, that have no meaning.
I think free-lance writing is not so good for a novelist!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Bad Dreams of Unfair Justice
I dreamed bad dreams all night.
Of standing before a disapproving judge.
Of getting the evil eye from an unforgiving former friend.
Of trying to bear up under the unrelenting hatred of a hostile DA.
I despair and dream of slitting my wrists and collecting the blood to mail to these people with a note that simply says "Are you happy now?".
Of standing before a disapproving judge.
Of getting the evil eye from an unforgiving former friend.
Of trying to bear up under the unrelenting hatred of a hostile DA.
I despair and dream of slitting my wrists and collecting the blood to mail to these people with a note that simply says "Are you happy now?".
Thursday, September 10, 2009
When o When can I Write?
I am so good at overbooking myself. I currently have bubbling on my writing stove:
Words for a Christmas Cantata (or an Easter Oratorio)
Words for 12 hours of Opera
Words for 2 Lullabys
1st novel revision/finishing
2nd novel plotting and brainstorming
So - I have LOTS to write and almost no time to work on it.
Instead I write about lawyers and colon cleansers and puppies. Yes, this writing pays the bills (just barely), but still... I want to write fun stuff!
Maybe the fact that I am starting a new job tomorrow will help.
Part time work, but at a really good rate of pay.
Should mean I have to do less freelance writing so hopefully I can swap that time out for fiction and musical writing.
Wish me luck!
Words for a Christmas Cantata (or an Easter Oratorio)
Words for 12 hours of Opera
Words for 2 Lullabys
1st novel revision/finishing
2nd novel plotting and brainstorming
So - I have LOTS to write and almost no time to work on it.
Instead I write about lawyers and colon cleansers and puppies. Yes, this writing pays the bills (just barely), but still... I want to write fun stuff!
Maybe the fact that I am starting a new job tomorrow will help.
Part time work, but at a really good rate of pay.
Should mean I have to do less freelance writing so hopefully I can swap that time out for fiction and musical writing.
Wish me luck!
Friday, September 04, 2009
Life in a Corpocracy
The book that is stirring around in the back of my mind for this year's NaNo is based in the future. When Corporations have taken over all of the 1st and 2nd world governments. You know, the stuff of science fiction...
Until my son points out this...
http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/20090323_america_is_in_need_of_a_moral_bailout/
Ah brave new world...
Until my son points out this...
http://www.truthdig.com/
Ah brave new world...
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Between Parachutes - What I Learned
I don't like writing about my personal travails. An author must play God and put her characters through challenges, set backs and travail - this is what makes books exciting. Unfortunately, when it comes to my own life, I seem to prefer waiting until after the challenges are done so that I know 'how it ends'. I am a storyteller - I tell dozens of stories about my own life - repeatedly. My friends tease that they like listening to my stories to 'find out what happened this time'.
So - as an update - I am still between parachutes, but there are good things on the horizon. My husband starts his Master's degree in a week and we have settled into an apartment in Denver. I am looking forward to beginning work again on my novel. And I have begun to anticipate NaNo 2009.
I'll probably start popping up here again more often now, trying to tell the stories that are my life.
So - as an update - I am still between parachutes, but there are good things on the horizon. My husband starts his Master's degree in a week and we have settled into an apartment in Denver. I am looking forward to beginning work again on my novel. And I have begun to anticipate NaNo 2009.
I'll probably start popping up here again more often now, trying to tell the stories that are my life.
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