'Athena' - Big Dumb Sci-fi

Finished. Kaput. Finito. 

Open University Creative writing module A215 has breathed its last. Below is the final piece that I submitted. It is clearly, hugely derivative of James Cameron's output but that is what I was going for. I wanted to see if I could write Big Dumb Action.

Perhaps a final exam is not the best time to flex those muscles and I should possibly have gone for a theme that leaned more towards the cerebral as opposed to the visceral. But, I made my decision and I stand by my opinion that this is Quite Good Actually.

The Open University examiners felt a little differently, however. Oh, I passed. But only by the skin of my teeth. My overall output during the course of the year earned me 76/100. The piece you're about to read was marked separately and scored me a Grade 3 Pass. Which is a score that sits sheepishly somewhere between 55 and 69.

If you haven't read all of my Open University stuff and feel like catching up, here you go:

• The House Opposite - a free-write
• Developments - a short story
• Videogame poetry... you read that right.
• Alone in Class 5C - life writing
• Whiteout - a short sci-fi story

Lessons learned: 

• Give myself more time to write assignments.
• Prepare.
• Read the bloody books I get sent.
• Don't stick to one particular theme. Broaden my scope.

Next up is A363 Advanced Creative Writing. Applied for and starting in October. Must try harder.

But... I still think the story below is fucking ace.

Athena

Chapter 1 of a book that doesn't exist.

I had a nightmare that I was born on a battle-field. As a 19 year old baby I screwed my eyes closed tightly and clutched cold metal to my chest in a comforting embrace. Blind, knew nothing of my surroundings other than what my remaining senses told me. I heard thunder; rumbles and cracks that at times felt distant and mountainous, at others at such close quarters that I felt pain. Cold, wetness spattered my face, giving temporary relief to my burning cheeks. Shouts and screams accompanied footfall either side of me, the muffled, hurried treading of dozens passing me on their way to God knows where. The ground beneath my knees shook. Fireworks exploded in my nerve endings as my shoulders were grabbed and I was hauled to my feet by unseen hands. Opening my eyes filled my life with light and provided such a shock that the rest of my senses shut down. Numb and deaf I saw an ashen face in front of mine; so close that it filled my vision. It was the face of desperate anger; covered in grey dust, a foundation of grime that did its best to hide cuts and grazes filled with blood and oil. The coating of dust did nothing, though, to hide the man’s craggy, scarred complexion; and was even more ill equipped to hide the fear in his eyes. I dumbly watched his mouth open and close in silent roars. I tasted his saliva and saw in his passion and urgency that his main concern was making sure that whatever it was that I was doing, I should stop doing it and start doing something different. He held me by the shoulders and he was strong. Turning his attention away from me for a moment, I saw in his thick grey hair dried blood and more of the grey dust that covered his forehead and nose, and coloured his eyebrows. The desperate man turned to face me again, he let go of my shoulders and grabbed the assault rifle that I had been holding against my chest. He didn’t take it from me and I didn’t or couldn’t let go, he just shook it and slammed it against my ribs three times, mouthing a silent refrain. Then he let go of me entirely, stared a stare that filled my blood vessels, turned on his heel and ran. The black tunnel of my vision could only take in his retreating form. Knowing of no other option, I followed.

Silence turned into white noise which became a ringing in my ears as I pounded after the grey haired soldier. With every step I took along the crumbling landscape my field of vision improved. The dark tunnel which my quarry occupied gave way slowly, gently revealing to me a surrounding landscape of silent chaos. We were running, dozens of us, down a street I recognised. Every one of us armed. Every one of us scared.

A pain in my head; crushing, like it was caught in a vice. My chest burned and the intense heat spread out to my limbs as though they were on fire.

Everything went white. And for a moment I heard everything; the gunfire, the explosions, the mechanical, rhythmical beat of the advancing mechs; bullets bouncing off steel; metal feet punching concrete; the sound of my nightmares.

A surge in my head. Everything went quiet. And black.

I awakened.

I opened my eyes and saw a ceiling, and a bare light bulb swinging gently, almost  imperceptibly, a glowing metronome, ticking silent seconds until,

“What do you think they’ll do to you when they get a hold of you?” I made a mental note of the gravelly voices use of the word ‘when’. I didn’t reply. “They’ll slice you from here,” pressure jabbed at my navel and I felt a rough cleaving sensation, felt like wood, up my torso, “all the way up to here.” A blade entered my lower field of vision and I realised that the implement of demonstration was the butt of a field knife. I also realised at this point that I was naked and completely paralysed. The pressure on my chest lifted and the voice continued, “Oh, they may have to do a little sawing to get through that bony chest of yours, but they’re not the squeamish sort.” The voice was moving away from the table on which I lay. I heard diminishing footsteps, echoing in what seemed like a large, otherwise empty room. A drawer opened. A metal, office cabinet. I heard aluminium rollers and a loud bang as it was slammed closed again. The footsteps neared and paper rustled. I broke my silence,

“Aefmmmp?”

“Well, amigo, it’s funny you should ask,” The man mocked me, but accurately guessed my question, “what ARE they looking for, indeed.” A light file was placed on my chest and I saw the grey haired soldier from my nightmare. He was clean shaven, and from the mid chest upwards at least, in a clean uniform. I saw four silver stars and a row of colourful decorations. He didn’t look at me as he talked, instead he leafed casually through a small pile of documents spread out on his makeshift desk, “what could a rookie like you possibly have to offer? What do you get for the alien scum that has everything?” He looked me in the eye and smiled without humour, “it’s a dilemma I face every Christmas.”

I heard a door open and the General looked up. I wiggled my toes and hoped no one saw. A woman’s concerned voice, “Sir?”

“Oh, pay no mind to him, Captain,” the General left my field of vision and his footsteps diminished to where I assumed the woman and the exit were, “he’s just got a thing or two to learn today, that’s all.”

The woman Captain lowered her voice and I strained to hear, “Athena, Sir. She’s…” The captain was cut off by her superior.

“Come outside,” He said. Footsteps; a door clicking gently closed and muffled, urgent voices. I listened for what must have been five minutes but couldn’t make out a single word. ‘Athena’ the Captain said. That was a familiar code; something that rang an alarm in my memory but was equally meaningless. Mobility was steadily returning from my feet upwards and I was able to move my toes, ankles, knees and hips freely. I wasn’t restrained to the table in any way and I took great pleasure in flexing my legs, arching my back and stretching my arms upwards and behind me, taking care not to dislodge the Generals paperwork from its precarious perch on my naked chest. The voices outside the door stopped and I resumed my prone position. While I waited for the General to re-enter and resume his lecture I explored the six square inches of table next to my hips that I was able to reach just by splaying out my fingers. The table was metal, not cold; it only occurred to me then that I was at a very comfortable temperature despite my nakedness; I felt an indent running the length of the table; a gutter. This table was not without purpose, then; a gurney. My skin had not been numb throughout this ordeal but I felt that I was able to move my neck before I had the chance to test it. The door opened and I heard two distinct sets of footsteps. The Generals purposeful strides were hard to mistake but the second set were not those of the female Captain, who must have had very short legs and, surely non regulation high heels; no, what I heard in the Generals new companion was a shuffle; as though he or she had come to work in slippers. The General spoke, not to me, to the visitor, “He was close to revealing how it happened.”

“Did you speak to him?” The second voice was soft and male. I could have listened to it all day. Made me feel sleepy.

“I don’t think me and this rookie have much to talk about.” The General lied, “I say we give him another dose, see what that tiny mind of his has to offer.” Another dose. I didn’t like the sound of that. The face of the softly spoken man came into view. He looked like he had never needed to shave. I was instantly put at ease by a kindly, almost pitiful expression. Dark brown, almost black eyes stared at me beneath a concerned furrowed brow. I saw he wore a lab coat. I saw it had a bloodstain on the collar.

“Do you think you can take another dose?” God help me, I almost blew my cover and answered him. They both clearly thought I was still paralysed and I was hoping that lying here listening might provide some answers to why I was lying here listening to a tetchy General and a gentle doctor. I assumed he was a doctor. He looked up at the General who I saw was standing with his arms folded, a look of impatience barely hidden. “Did you speak to him?” the doctor repeated.

“He asked me what I would recommend,” the General was indignant, “I advised against the fish. Now don’t you need to be getting your bag of tricks. The window is getting smaller.”

“Yes, yes,” the doctor stared at my face. I fought every muscular instinct and looked blankly through him, “I’ll be back shortly.” He disappeared from view, shuffled to the door and left. Around five seconds passed before a fist smashed into my stomach. Every muscle in my body reacted as I folded myself up defensively; eyes screwed tightly. I felt a hand on my thigh and one on my neck, pushing me back down onto the gurney. I opened my eyes again and saw a familiar sight. The grey haired Generals face filled my view; just as it did in my nightmare. Every deepened line in his face told me he was furious.

“I swear to every fucking God you can think of, rookie, I see your toes wigglin’ or your Adams apple bobbin’ I will gut you like a fish.” He straightened me out into the position I was in before, keeping a tight hold of my throat, “When the good doctor comes back you play dead. I will not lose another man to these metal demons. Play fucking dead, go to sleep and when you wake up the war will be over.” A shuffling outside the door indicated the doctors’ approach. As the door handle turned the General let go of me and quickly pressed his mouth against my ear, “Athena,” he whispered, “when you go to sleep just keep thinking Athena!”

“Problem, General?” said a soft voice.

“Dropped my pencil.” The General straightened up and stepped backwards. I couldn’t see him anymore. The light bulb over my head flickered and died for just a few seconds. When it buzzed back into life I heard the door swing open hard and bang against the wall. The female Captain spoke with urgency,

“General. Athena has taken level 2. We need you to make a decision.” The General looked at my face as I did my best impression of the waking dead. “Forgive me, Sir, but, Right now!”

He left me and the doctor alone as he hurried out after his Captain. The doctors face hovered over mine again and that soft voice said, “Are you ready to dream, Marshal?” ‘Marshal?’ I was the highest ranking officer in this room. I was the highest ranking officer in most rooms! What was all this ‘rookie’ talk? I felt a wet swab wipe at my bicep and then a not unfamiliar sensation of a needle piercing my skin. What did feel unfamiliar and increasingly uncomfortable was the warm sensation spreading through my arm; to my chest and then out from my heart; my veins felt like they were running with boiling water and I couldn’t keep up the pretence any longer. I screamed as my face, tongue and eyes burned from the inside. I sat up and saw the doctor backing away; I brought my hands to my face to tear at my skin; to feel anything other than this feeling of molten glass coursing through me. For the first time I was able to see the rest of the room, but wasn’t able to process the horror until the burning began to subside. It started in my chest; my heart cooled and I felt gentle swathes of iciness serving as antidote to each painful limb. As the coolness reached my head my eyes started to feel heavy and I knew sleep would not be long coming. Only then, in the few moments as my brain recovered did I recall what I had seen in the room where I lay. I was not alone in that room. My gurney was one of hundreds’, each one containing a prone body, each stricken face bore the same expression of horror and agony; and every man here was dead.

I knew every soldier in this room. I had fought with them, shoulder to shoulder in the battlefields of California. I knew what the doctor and the General were looking for. I knew I had to help the only way I could.

“Athena”, I said before I drifted to sleep, “Athena”, I said before I re-entered my battlefield nightmare.