I recently received my final two grades of the year, and they're my best yet! When I pulled them out of the envelope and saw 74% and 78% a huge grin broke out across my face. Two Firsts! My mission for my final year of uni has been achieved - to get at least one First.
The amazing feeling still hasn't worn off yet, and it has really inspired me to write more. So next week, when my social life is a little less hectic, I am going to do some serious writing. Maybe I'll get a good chunk of a novel done. Here's hoping at least.
One of the pieces is a short story, untitled at the time of hand-in but I've now entitled it Hardwired. I was so nervous about this piece as the lecturer was incredibly picky about everything. I edited it over and over, then had my friends and sister read over it many times too. This assignment was for the Creative Visions module - looking at life in fifty years time. I was going to write the first chapter of Tainted Blood, but the lecturer tore it apart, so I ditched that idea. I figured in a slightly more down to Earth, more compact short story she would have less to question and complain about. My last Creative Visions piece Logged On got 64% with feedback saying the ending could have more of a twist, so I took their advice.
Anyway, less talk, more reading...
The amazing feeling still hasn't worn off yet, and it has really inspired me to write more. So next week, when my social life is a little less hectic, I am going to do some serious writing. Maybe I'll get a good chunk of a novel done. Here's hoping at least.
One of the pieces is a short story, untitled at the time of hand-in but I've now entitled it Hardwired. I was so nervous about this piece as the lecturer was incredibly picky about everything. I edited it over and over, then had my friends and sister read over it many times too. This assignment was for the Creative Visions module - looking at life in fifty years time. I was going to write the first chapter of Tainted Blood, but the lecturer tore it apart, so I ditched that idea. I figured in a slightly more down to Earth, more compact short story she would have less to question and complain about. My last Creative Visions piece Logged On got 64% with feedback saying the ending could have more of a twist, so I took their advice.
Anyway, less talk, more reading...
Hardwired
Life Beyond 2050
He stumbled through the door,
the hallway lights turned on automatically.
‘Lights down,’ he slurred,
shielding his bloodshot eyes from the glare.
They dimmed and he lowered
his hand, leaning against the wall for support.
‘Jensen?’ Sylvee stood at
the end of the hall. She looked like a ghost, shrouded in a long white dressing
gown, her pale hair curled over her shoulders. There was no smile to greet him,
no hugs, no kisses. Wobbling slightly in the spinning room, Jensen stood up
straight.
‘Where've you been?’ Her
voice was controlled.
‘Out,’ he said, trying to
meet her cool stare.
‘Out where?’ Her tone never
changing.
‘Just out,’ he growled as he
pushed past her to their bedroom. She didn’t flinch; she only stood there, watching.
Jensen wanted to apologise. He always did, yet the words never seemed to come.
The full beam of the lights
in the bedroom burned his eyes and he ordered them off. The darkness was
better; he could avoid Sylvee in the dark.
He fumbled with the zip of
his overalls. He’d gone straight to Alfie’s from the wind farm, and they smelt
of beer and illegal cigarettes. Tugging off his dirty clothing he called for
the laundry chute. A hatch opened in the wall and he dumped his clothes down
the tube. He had crawled under the starched covers when Sylvee came in. Neither
of them spoke as she shed her gown and climbed into bed next to him. She lay on
her back staring up at the ceiling, whilst he curled up on his side facing away
from her.
Even in the darkness the
room was still spinning and Jensen breathed deeply to calm his churning
stomach. He was regretting spending so many credits on what tasted like heavily
watered-down piss. A sudden turn in his gut made him desperate for the
bathroom, but he could tell from Sylvee's breathing she was still awake.
Rubbing his stomach, he urged it to settle. He couldn’t hold it any longer. Saliva
flooded his mouth and his throat convulsed. Pushing back the covers he stumbled
to the bathroom. Vomit choked him, and he couldn't order the lights on.
Kneeling on the cool tiles, he threw up in the dark, hoping he aimed right.
Soon his stomach was empty.
‘Flush,’ he ordered as he
got to his feet. He took his time brushing his teeth and gargled multiple
times. When he entered the bedroom again he could see Sylvee's eyes were still
open wide, reflecting the dim light of the solar lamppost that seeped through
the curtains.
Jensen sighed. ‘Go to sleep.
Please.’
For a moment she didn’t move
and he thought to repeat himself. Then she rolled on her side and closed her
eyes. Jensen practically fell into bed, suddenly exhausted. Once again he
promised himself he wouldn’t go out again. And once again he would think of her and the urge would be too strong.
*
When Jensen awoke the next
morning, Sylvee’s side of the bed was empty. The curtains were open and warm
sunlight spilled into the room. Grumbling, Jensen pulled his pillow over his
face. He knew he’d have to get up eventually but the thought of his wife
sitting in stony silence at the kitchen table made him want to tear his hair
out. With a yawn Jensen rolled out of
bed to his feet. The wall next to his bed flashed brightly.
‘Eleven forty-two am. Sunday
the eighth of April 2063. Dagenham weather: sunny spells with highs of twenty-four
degrees. The main headlines today are-’ Jensen cut off the chirpy infovoice
with a hasty swipe. Sylvee would know he was awake now.
He padded into the bathroom,
making sure to lock the door behind him. Rummaging through the medicine cabinet,
ignoring the Paroxetine, he grabbed a brightly coloured box. Hangover Ex! The New Morning After Pill was written across the front in bold
letters. There was only one capsule left in the packet. Jensen swallowed it
with a glass of water. Instantly his queasy stomach was gone and the sunlight
no longer pierced his eyes. He still didn’t feel any better about facing
Sylvee.
Once he’d showered and
dressed he slouched into the kitchen. Sylvee sat at the table, her back
straight and stiff. Her hands rested on the table, a full cup of tea sat in
front of her. A film of milk covered the surface. She looked directly ahead,
her gaze flickered slightly when he sat down next to her.
‘About last night,’ he started.
‘You’re a grown man; you’re free to do what you
want.’
It was not the answer he was expecting. He wanted
anger, shouting, fighting.
‘No, I shouldn’t be free to do what I want. That’s
not right.’ He slammed his fist down on the table. She blinked at him.
‘If that’s what you say,’ she agreed with the smallest
of nods.
Suddenly, all the fight left him and his headache
came back despite the pill. ‘It is what I say.’ Jensen stood up quickly and
went over to the countertop. ‘Coffee, black.’ His voice seemed too loud in the
silence of the room. There was a whirring in the walls and a cup of steaming
coffee was revealed behind a hatch. This
is more warmth than I’ll get from her, he thought as he cradled the cup in
his hands. Jensen watched her as he drank. Whatever she was feeling, if she
could even feel, she hid it well; her face was expressionless.
‘Go, do something with yourself,’ he found himself
saying.
She looked at him then.
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Fluff the
pillows. Read a book. Take a walk. Do whatever, just stop sitting there.’
She nodded, got up from her
chair, and left the room. Jensen hadn’t meant to sound so rude; he just
couldn’t control his temper around her anymore. He put his half empty coffee
cup carefully on the counter, resisting the urge to smash it against the wall. His
thoughts turned back to her. Her
gentle eyes and loving lips. Tonight he’d be with her again. He could never
keep his promises.
The phone rang and Jensen
hurried to answer it before Sylvee could.
‘I got it,’ he called out.
Looking at the screen he
recognised the number straight away. He debated whether he should answer it or
not then swiped his finger across the screen.
‘Hey, Jen,’ Matty’s cheerful
face appeared on the monitor. ‘What night is it? It’s bowling night!’
Jensen could not share his
enthusiasm. He picked up the handheld receiver. ‘I told you not to call me.
What if Sylvee picked up?’ he hissed, looking over his should to check she
wasn’t close.
‘I wouldn’t have told her
anything,’ said Matty, his cheeriness gone. ‘I got you.’
‘I know you do. It’s just
been a rough morning.’ Jensen massaged his temples.
‘Guess that means no
bowling.’
‘Sorry, I can’t. I just keep
thinking about her.’
‘Look, Jen, this is going to
come out eventually, you can’t keep her a secret forever. You know I’m fine
with it, but the others, well, they’re not as understanding about this sort of
thing.’
‘You’d think people would be
more open-minded these days,’ Jensen said grudgingly. Everything Matty said was
true, but he didn’t want to think about it. Not now.
‘Well they’re not. Jensen, I
don’t want you to get hurt again. I was there for you last time but I can’t
keep doing it. You have to tell Sylvee the truth or get rid of her.’
‘I know. I love her so much
though; I can’t just stop seeing her. It’s too painful.’
‘Life is painful. Let me
know if you change your mind about bowling.’ There was a beep as Matty hung up.
Jensen placed the receiver
back on the wall, ignoring the advert for a new upgraded phone that scrolled
across the screen. Matty was right, he needed to tell Sylvee the truth and live
with the consequences. He was being selfish and it wasn’t fair to anybody.
Jensen sat opposite Sylvee
and watched her as she played with her food. His lupine steak was tasteless and
every mouthful was an effort to chew. He thought about what Matty had said. He
did need to end it, but he had to know he was doing the right thing.
‘Do you remember, a couple
of years ago, when we had just started dating? I was trying to be cool and
threw that bottle at the recycling bin but it completely missed. You picked it
up, and as you walked over to me you said “Your awful aim will cost you hundreds
of credits in litter fines one day.” Then you popped it over your shoulder and
got it in the bin straight away.’
‘I don’t recall that. Was it important?’ Sylvee said
as she pushed her peas around, the fork scraping on the plate.
I fell in love
with you that day. ‘No, nothing special, just a memory.’
Silence hung between them. Jensen looked down at the
remainder of his meal and grimaced. He got up suddenly and threw it into the
compost chute. All food waste in the apartment complex went down chute to the
compost heap, which was then spread on the surrounding gardens and parks.
Sylvee had once lost an ill-fitting bracelet down there. She’d said it was a
precious heirloom of her Grandma’s, so they’d spent the day digging through
rotting vegetables. They’d shared a shower after too. But she probably didn’t
remember that either.
At the sound of the fork scraping on the plate again
Jensen turned around. ‘Would you just eat the damned food.’
Jensen watched her take the first bite but soon left,
his head pounding.
*
He had wanted to go out that
night, to drink and be with her
again, even if it was for just a few hours. But he had work tomorrow and he
already had two warnings for being late. Another would see him fired.
He had tried to sleep. In
his dream an army of Sylvee’s chased him down a narrow corridor. The more he
ran the slower he went. The corridor was endless. Each one of them screamed, ‘It’s
your fault I’m like this!’ One eventually caught him. Her thin fingers bit into
his flesh. He wanted to scream but no sound came out. ‘It’s all your fault!’
she shrieked as she tore off his face.
He woke up in a cold sweat,
breathing harshly. He tried to remember the dream but it was already fading. No
longer tired, he lay next to his wife, yet all he could think about was her. How she had felt lying next to him in
bed. His arms wrapped around her, her soft body warm beneath his chest, feeling
her heart beat in time with his. The
cold woman beside him was no more than a stranger.
When his alarm went off he
leapt out of bed.
Beep. Beep. Beep. ‘Seven am. Monday the ninth-’ Jensen swiped a hand across the alarm
screen shutting up the infovoice before it could wake his wife. He pulled on fresh
grey overalls and headed out the door, careful not to make a sound.
*
The Dagenham wind farm was
already bustling when Jensen arrived. The turbines needed plenty of maintenance
checks if they were to supply the South East with enough energy. There were
still plenty of people opposed to the idea of wind farms too; Jensen couldn’t
believe how narrow-minded society could be.
‘Hey Jensen,’ Randal said as he scanned the schedule.
‘You’re on E-13 today.’
‘E-13? That’s on the other side of the estate.’
‘Yeah and we’re out of solar carts I’m afraid. Looks
like you’re walking.’ Randal smiled crookedly.
Jensen knew he shouldn’t be surprised; that was his
luck. The hammering in his temples grew, and no amount of drugs would help. He
needed the booze, and her. He grabbed
his tools from Randal before setting off between the forests of turbines.
It was over an hour before
he finally reached E-13. His head had pounded with every step. The turbine was
over a hundred and twenty metres tall if you included the rotor. When he first
started work there Jensen had nightmares that the entire wind farm had fallen
over in a domino effect and crushed him, the rotors slicing his friends and
family to pieces. A shudder washed over him as he looked at the slowly rotating
blades. Just get this work done. Then you
can drink and be with her, he thought as he unscrewed the work hatch. But Sylvee will still be there. His hand
tightened around the screwdriver. His conversation with Matty ran through his
head. He needed this to be over with. He put the screwdriver away and glanced
at the other tools in the box, one especially caught his eye. He would end it
tonight.
*
Unsurprisingly, Sylvee was sat
at the kitchen table when Jensen got home from the farm. He had considered
going straight to Alfie’s but he knew he had to deal with his wife first.
Her blonde hair was perfectly curled as usual, her
pale skin unblemished and smooth. The top she was wearing had been one of his
favourites, low-cut and clingy, but now he felt nothing. Cold, blue eyes
flickered over him as he walked behind her and ordered his coffee, but
otherwise she didn’t move. She would have
been perfect, he thought, but she
just wasn’t her. As his coffee
was being made, Jensen fingered the object in his pocket with a shaking hand.
‘Work was fine, thanks for asking,’ he said, hoping she
didn’t hear the waver in his voice.
‘That’s good.’
The coffee was done but Jensen didn’t pick it up.
Instead he drew the tool from his overall’s pocket. Staring at the back of her
head, the hammer suddenly felt too heavy in his hand and he was afraid he would
drop it.
‘How was your day?’ he asked. If she would just say
something, anything, that could change his mind.
‘It was fine, thank you for asking,’ she said, not
even turning around.
Jensen closed his eyes, shook his head. The hammer slipped
in his sweaty palms. He raised his arm up. He thought back to all the days they
had spent together, before this. They were carefree, they were happy, they were
in love. But it could never be the same again.
‘Can you even say it?’ he whispered, a tiny bud of
hope still growing inside him.
‘Say what?’
‘That you love me!’ he said in a sudden burst of
passion.
‘I can say it, if that’s what you would like.’
It’s not what I
want, it’s what I need. ‘Say it.’
‘I love you-’
He brought the hammer down heavily on the back of her
skull. Jensen felt it collapse beneath the weight of the tool. Satisfaction
sped through his body as he swung it down again, this time harder. Pieces of
skull, circuits and wires scattered over the kitchen floor. Again and again he
brought down the hammer until the back of her head was an electrical mess. The
body slumped forward, all the stiffness gone. Jensen took a deep breath, the
hammer slipped from his grasp with a loud thunk
as it hit the linoleum. The sight of a synthetic flesh with blonde hair
attatched made Jensen retch. Tears chocked him. The pain in his head almost
blinded him. Slowly, he lifted the head off the table. Its eyes had reverted
back to factory settings. Grey with no pupils. He let it drop. He wanted a
drink, but even that wouldn’t bring her back now.
‘I’m sorry Sylvee. I should have let you go instead
of clinging on. Now I’ve lost you twice.’
