Zealot2120
Smash Lord
I just started a story recently, and I would love some constructive critism.
I have only just begun the story, and it will turn into a sci fi story, but not in the usual sense, nor in the sense that it appears at the moment. I can't quite tell you exactly what it is, because that'd ruin the plot. Just comment on what's here so far.
Jonah Munro stared solemnly at his computer screen. His fingers pressed on the keyboard rapidly, although Jonah was unaware of this. The action was so repetitive, so simple, that it has become an action of his subconscious. He does so without any thought as to what he was doing. As his digits pressed down like the hammers in a piano, Jonah’s mind wasted away. Only one thought prevailed at this moment; “I’m bored... So bored.... Jesus Christ, I’m bored.... Someone save me... please, save me.” But no one did.
He looked around at his very plain cubical. He put up no pictures of his family nor of his friends. He had no decorations of any sort. Simply plain walls. He stood up and looked over the walls of his cubical that trapped him for eight and a half hours a day. He saw many other workers typing away as he just was, except for they seemed to be more involved in their work. They seemed to actually enjoy the mindlessness that comes out of programming.
“Math students.” he muttered to himself.
Of course he himself was a engineering student, having just finished four years at the University of Waterloo for mathematics. He spent his days studying numbers and their relationship to the world; spent his nights memorizing pointless formulas and equations for the sake of learning formulas and equations. He looked at bridges, and the equations that created them. He took courses in computer mathematics, and here he is now, applying the knowledge.
Why did I ever take that ****ty course? He thought. I loathe it. This wasn’t completely true though. He did enjoy the course, it was the people he hated. They were your stereotypical nerds. The people who spent all their time in my room with a textbook in their face, memorizing not only the formula’s for the day, but taking the time to learn material that they’ll be learning in the coming days, months, and years. They were the type of students who did not know how to have fun; did not know how to laugh. He found he couldn’t relate to them. Worse, he found that because of them, he couldn’t relate to others. Because of the social emptiness he was placed in, he had lost his ability to be with those he truly wanted to be with. Some referred to these people as party animals, others called them immature; Jonah saw them as exciting. At least these people enjoyed themselves.
Carl, Jonah’s next cubical neighbour, looked up. Jonah quickly sat back down in his seat, aware that he had just been staring at his neat-and-tidy co-worker and classmate for the last five minutes. Carl was exactly the kind of person Jonah detested. Calculator in his beast pocket, thick glasses on his nose, hair parted in a comical fashion. He feeds the image that people have about math majors. Carl is everything that Jonah doesn’t want to be.
“It’s amazing that evolution would allow such a thing,” Jonah would often tell himself. “Such a feeble creature. Survival of the fittest my ***.”
Jonah looked at the clock in the lower right corner of his computer. It was 5:29 PM. One minute until work ended. He stood up and put on his jacket. He looked back at the clock. The minute still had not passed, but he left anyway. His boss will forgive him for leaving twenty seconds early. He picked up his briefcase and headed home.
Jonah took the bus to his apartment downtown, and took the elevator to the 14th floor (which should actually be the 13th, but due to superstition, that floor is removed; though if you were to count the floors from outside the building, Jonah knew he still lived on the 13th, regardless of what it was called). He walked down the hall to apartment number 1403, unlocked the door and walked inside.
Jonah’s apartment was nothing special; one bedroom, one bathroom, one kitchen, one living room, each room on the smaller side. He didn’t have any need for a larger home, it was only him who ever used it. It was also for this reason it was hardly decorated; he himself didn’t care for fancy pictures, and he never brought anyone over. His light blue walls were bare, except for a single photo of his family.
He placed his briefcase by the door and went into his room and dressed into more comfortable close, removing his tie as fast as he could. The tie always marvelled him. Who was the first man who decided to wear a noose around his neck? Jonah thought. He figured that upon seeing a hanging, this mysterious man looked at the dangling body and said to himself: “Geese, that man sure do look good.” Some reason the tie was necessary, though that reason was beyond him. He worked in a cubical, where he had minimal human contact. What difference should his tie have?
Jonah microwaved a dinner and watched television. He detested the TV, but no one can deny that it’s a fantastic thing to do while you eat. Food is something that you rarely give full attention to. Although the taste of food can be exquisite, you can never really focus all your energy on it. You must either be talking to someone, in the case of a restaurant, be doing something else socially, spend time pondering, or in this case, watch television. It seemed, paradoxically, that making food a conscious secondary, the experience is enhanced.
Once he finished his food, he turned off the TV, left his apartment and made his way down to the Dawn’s - the local bar. It was the only time he ever really managed to get out of the house.
Dawn’s was a very popular bar, full of people. It was this that made Jonah caused Jonah to be left alone. In one of those nearly empty bars, the regulars always begin to know each other and therefore create friends among each other. Here, Jonah was simply one of many faces who come and go. Undistinguished, Jonah was left completely alone - normally.
“Is this seat taken?” said a man whom Jonah had never seen.
Jonah just stared at him for a second, before shaking his head no in silence. He then looked back at his drink in front of him. He heard the man sitting down at the seat across from him at his table.
“Thanks. This place is absolutely packed. It’s hard to find a seat.”
Jonah just nodded, avoiding eye contact.
“The names Freddy.”
Freddy held out his hand. Jonah looked up at this outstretched palm, and after a second, took it. He gave a quick handshake before retreating. Very quietly he gave his name to Freddy. He had to repeat it a little louder as Freddy scrunched his forehead indicating that he didn’t hear. Freddy said “Nice night, ain’t it?” Jonah nodded. Each man took a sip of his drink.
“I don’t get to go out much.” said Freddy.
“Oh.” Jonah responded.
“So what do you do for a living Jonah?”
“I’m a programmer.”
“A programmer, eh? That’s exciting. What kind? Do you make software? Games?”
“Whatever I’m told to.” Jonah said.
“Interesting, interesting.” There was a moment of silence before Freddy added “at this point, you ask me what I do.”
“Mm?” Jonah grunted.
“You ask what I do. To keep the conversation going, ya know?”
Freddy, as far as Jonah could tell, was only a little older than himself. He had long hair tied back in a ponytail, and a friendly smile etched onto his face. He waited patiently for Jonah to comply to his suggestion.
“Oh, right. Sorry. What do you do?”
Freddy smiled. “By day or night?” he said, playing.
“Day.” Jonah couldn’t help but smile at this point. Freddy’s energy was contagious, even to a someone as empty as himself.
“Not important.” He joked.
“Not important?.” Jonah said.
“Not in the least bit. It’s only what I do to eat. I’d hate to define myself by it, so I won’t even mention it. Understand?” Freddy said.
“I suppose” Jonah said, though he knew exactly what Freddy meant. “Alright, so night then.”
“Ah, see, that’s the far more important thing, I’d say. Though I don’t get paid for it, it’s by far more interesting.” After a moment of silence Freddy added “Now here is where you lean forward in anticipation and say ‘go on’”.
Jonah smiled. Going along with the joke, he leaned forward and said go on.
“I’m part of a top secret organization to stop the destruction of society as we know it.”
“How so?”
“To remove the genetically modified creatures out of our senate.”
Jonah stared at Freddy with frightened eyes. The first man he’s talked to in months, and he’s off his rocker. Well, Jonah figured, it really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. It must take a true nut to talk to me. What’d Freddy think Jonah was? If he was really fighting these “creatures” in the government, why tell Jonah? Does he make it a habit to tell every stranger the talks to about this “secret” organization? If it were legitimate, there’s no way he would, and yet it appears as though this is exactly what this man does.
I have only just begun the story, and it will turn into a sci fi story, but not in the usual sense, nor in the sense that it appears at the moment. I can't quite tell you exactly what it is, because that'd ruin the plot. Just comment on what's here so far.
Jonah Munro stared solemnly at his computer screen. His fingers pressed on the keyboard rapidly, although Jonah was unaware of this. The action was so repetitive, so simple, that it has become an action of his subconscious. He does so without any thought as to what he was doing. As his digits pressed down like the hammers in a piano, Jonah’s mind wasted away. Only one thought prevailed at this moment; “I’m bored... So bored.... Jesus Christ, I’m bored.... Someone save me... please, save me.” But no one did.
He looked around at his very plain cubical. He put up no pictures of his family nor of his friends. He had no decorations of any sort. Simply plain walls. He stood up and looked over the walls of his cubical that trapped him for eight and a half hours a day. He saw many other workers typing away as he just was, except for they seemed to be more involved in their work. They seemed to actually enjoy the mindlessness that comes out of programming.
“Math students.” he muttered to himself.
Of course he himself was a engineering student, having just finished four years at the University of Waterloo for mathematics. He spent his days studying numbers and their relationship to the world; spent his nights memorizing pointless formulas and equations for the sake of learning formulas and equations. He looked at bridges, and the equations that created them. He took courses in computer mathematics, and here he is now, applying the knowledge.
Why did I ever take that ****ty course? He thought. I loathe it. This wasn’t completely true though. He did enjoy the course, it was the people he hated. They were your stereotypical nerds. The people who spent all their time in my room with a textbook in their face, memorizing not only the formula’s for the day, but taking the time to learn material that they’ll be learning in the coming days, months, and years. They were the type of students who did not know how to have fun; did not know how to laugh. He found he couldn’t relate to them. Worse, he found that because of them, he couldn’t relate to others. Because of the social emptiness he was placed in, he had lost his ability to be with those he truly wanted to be with. Some referred to these people as party animals, others called them immature; Jonah saw them as exciting. At least these people enjoyed themselves.
Carl, Jonah’s next cubical neighbour, looked up. Jonah quickly sat back down in his seat, aware that he had just been staring at his neat-and-tidy co-worker and classmate for the last five minutes. Carl was exactly the kind of person Jonah detested. Calculator in his beast pocket, thick glasses on his nose, hair parted in a comical fashion. He feeds the image that people have about math majors. Carl is everything that Jonah doesn’t want to be.
“It’s amazing that evolution would allow such a thing,” Jonah would often tell himself. “Such a feeble creature. Survival of the fittest my ***.”
Jonah looked at the clock in the lower right corner of his computer. It was 5:29 PM. One minute until work ended. He stood up and put on his jacket. He looked back at the clock. The minute still had not passed, but he left anyway. His boss will forgive him for leaving twenty seconds early. He picked up his briefcase and headed home.
Jonah took the bus to his apartment downtown, and took the elevator to the 14th floor (which should actually be the 13th, but due to superstition, that floor is removed; though if you were to count the floors from outside the building, Jonah knew he still lived on the 13th, regardless of what it was called). He walked down the hall to apartment number 1403, unlocked the door and walked inside.
Jonah’s apartment was nothing special; one bedroom, one bathroom, one kitchen, one living room, each room on the smaller side. He didn’t have any need for a larger home, it was only him who ever used it. It was also for this reason it was hardly decorated; he himself didn’t care for fancy pictures, and he never brought anyone over. His light blue walls were bare, except for a single photo of his family.
He placed his briefcase by the door and went into his room and dressed into more comfortable close, removing his tie as fast as he could. The tie always marvelled him. Who was the first man who decided to wear a noose around his neck? Jonah thought. He figured that upon seeing a hanging, this mysterious man looked at the dangling body and said to himself: “Geese, that man sure do look good.” Some reason the tie was necessary, though that reason was beyond him. He worked in a cubical, where he had minimal human contact. What difference should his tie have?
Jonah microwaved a dinner and watched television. He detested the TV, but no one can deny that it’s a fantastic thing to do while you eat. Food is something that you rarely give full attention to. Although the taste of food can be exquisite, you can never really focus all your energy on it. You must either be talking to someone, in the case of a restaurant, be doing something else socially, spend time pondering, or in this case, watch television. It seemed, paradoxically, that making food a conscious secondary, the experience is enhanced.
Once he finished his food, he turned off the TV, left his apartment and made his way down to the Dawn’s - the local bar. It was the only time he ever really managed to get out of the house.
Dawn’s was a very popular bar, full of people. It was this that made Jonah caused Jonah to be left alone. In one of those nearly empty bars, the regulars always begin to know each other and therefore create friends among each other. Here, Jonah was simply one of many faces who come and go. Undistinguished, Jonah was left completely alone - normally.
“Is this seat taken?” said a man whom Jonah had never seen.
Jonah just stared at him for a second, before shaking his head no in silence. He then looked back at his drink in front of him. He heard the man sitting down at the seat across from him at his table.
“Thanks. This place is absolutely packed. It’s hard to find a seat.”
Jonah just nodded, avoiding eye contact.
“The names Freddy.”
Freddy held out his hand. Jonah looked up at this outstretched palm, and after a second, took it. He gave a quick handshake before retreating. Very quietly he gave his name to Freddy. He had to repeat it a little louder as Freddy scrunched his forehead indicating that he didn’t hear. Freddy said “Nice night, ain’t it?” Jonah nodded. Each man took a sip of his drink.
“I don’t get to go out much.” said Freddy.
“Oh.” Jonah responded.
“So what do you do for a living Jonah?”
“I’m a programmer.”
“A programmer, eh? That’s exciting. What kind? Do you make software? Games?”
“Whatever I’m told to.” Jonah said.
“Interesting, interesting.” There was a moment of silence before Freddy added “at this point, you ask me what I do.”
“Mm?” Jonah grunted.
“You ask what I do. To keep the conversation going, ya know?”
Freddy, as far as Jonah could tell, was only a little older than himself. He had long hair tied back in a ponytail, and a friendly smile etched onto his face. He waited patiently for Jonah to comply to his suggestion.
“Oh, right. Sorry. What do you do?”
Freddy smiled. “By day or night?” he said, playing.
“Day.” Jonah couldn’t help but smile at this point. Freddy’s energy was contagious, even to a someone as empty as himself.
“Not important.” He joked.
“Not important?.” Jonah said.
“Not in the least bit. It’s only what I do to eat. I’d hate to define myself by it, so I won’t even mention it. Understand?” Freddy said.
“I suppose” Jonah said, though he knew exactly what Freddy meant. “Alright, so night then.”
“Ah, see, that’s the far more important thing, I’d say. Though I don’t get paid for it, it’s by far more interesting.” After a moment of silence Freddy added “Now here is where you lean forward in anticipation and say ‘go on’”.
Jonah smiled. Going along with the joke, he leaned forward and said go on.
“I’m part of a top secret organization to stop the destruction of society as we know it.”
“How so?”
“To remove the genetically modified creatures out of our senate.”
Jonah stared at Freddy with frightened eyes. The first man he’s talked to in months, and he’s off his rocker. Well, Jonah figured, it really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. It must take a true nut to talk to me. What’d Freddy think Jonah was? If he was really fighting these “creatures” in the government, why tell Jonah? Does he make it a habit to tell every stranger the talks to about this “secret” organization? If it were legitimate, there’s no way he would, and yet it appears as though this is exactly what this man does.
.