Oct 14, 2020

Coming of Age Science Fiction Speculative

To Live for the Future

By Caden Hill


By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.

Inside my mind, a forest went up in flames….


Have you ever wondered about your future?

What it will be like?

What does future you look like?

How do you dress?

Are you married? Engaged? To whom?

Children? Two....three….four?

Do you finally like that vegetable you never liked as a kid?

Do you understand what you’ve lived for?

You see, these question are precious, more precious and valuable than you can ever know.

Questions like this are life itself. Because what is an answer without there first being a question?

Some people say life is a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get. The magic is in the question, you see?

Those purveyors of trite sugary analogies are correct...in a way.

Your life is a box of chocolates.

Mine, on the other hand, is more comparable to the steel-plated exterior of a nuclear warhead. I already know what’s inside. My question was answered for me before I could even say my own name.

Karina Richeson, that’s my name.

And my sole purpose is to live for the future.


Can you imagine having to write your will?

Maybe eventually, when you’re old and gray and crotchety and just a codger in general, you’ll decide to write one. Most of us think of wills in that way—something you do when you’re dying.

I wrote my will at the age of sixteen.

You see, it’s the year 2112. Freezing people and bringing them back alive is old tech, hardly worth mentioning. Neural networking is child’s play.

But what is worth mentioning is the Generations Virus.

It was created back in the 2090s to attempt and end aging forever. It failed.

And now, we are a ‘thrice-blessed’ world:

#1. The absolute cutoff point for life is the age of thirty-two. At thirty-two, it’s lights out, no matter what. Some die earlier

#2. Until the age of thirty-two, we are young and strong, buoyed by the potent cocktail of artificial proteins added to our genome to keep us afloat.

And #3. In an attempt to preserve our most crucial assets, the World Council passed a single standard upon humankind: the top 0.000001% of all babies born thereafter would be put into cryo at age twenty-two, a canned reserve of hyper-intelligence to balm the wounds of our broken world.

The top 0.000001%. About one out of every billion, if the statistics don’t lie.

Those numbers make me one of the smartest people in the world by a margin greater than Mt. Everest.

In all the universe, there are only 15 other people who can match me. 15 with whom I share my fate.

I turn 22 tomorrow.

And this is why I wrote my will at such a tender age.

For while others will live on, even to the petty, repugnant age of thirty-two, I will lie cold as moonlight, in a vault freezer a thousand feet below the surface of the earth.

Not that I have anything to will away, anyways.

I was raised as an object, and objects do not have possessions.

Instead, I wrote for my family.

My parents envied me. My older brother hated me. Nevertheless, I still wrote for them.

I wrote in surrender to my fate, as if expressing how I feel about my destiny would somehow make them understand.

It was a child’s fantasy.

Things got so bad after the will that I was removed from my home, and placed into a government run facility. “For my own protection.” they said, “To keep you obedient.” their tones told me as clear as day.

It’s one thing about being hyper-intelligent; I’m almost impossible to trick or fool. The words hidden between the lines come to me as easily as if they’re really there.

It’s my destiny to serve in this way, I’m told. A great honor to serve in this way, I’m told. And I believe them, because they believe themselves.

If you cannot believe someone’s sincere word, then what can you believe?

At least, that’s what I’m told.


I sat in the easy chair, eyes trying in vain to focus on the blurry pages of the report.

It’s 3:00 AM, rest is a thing of the past for me. When sleep does occasionally befall me, it is a panther pouncing on its prey, full of tearing teeth and rending blades.

Who cares about rest anyways? I’ll get plenty of it tomorrow.

Eternal sleep as a frozen corpse, existing only as an answering machine for humanity’s dilemmas.

I thrust the report away from me, tossing the jargon-riddled economics paper clear across the room. It hits the corner of my twin bed and the sheaf explodes into a ream of fluttering statistics and diagrams.

I’ve made a mess.

The childishness of that thought makes me laugh, because I am anything but.

The life of a Generate removes the child from you early.

I’ve changed even more in the past few years.

The thought of the past few years reminds me of my purpose here. I live in a tiny steel cube, inside a government facility, inside some mountain in South America, all so that I can train myself with no outside interruptions.

I got up, collected the papers, and resumed forcing my way through the report.

This is my training: memorizing the world’s economic patterns.

One thing we learned early is that not every Generate is the same—we all specialize in a different area.

Some are masters of the arts and creativity. Some are masters of science and research. Some even produce great philosophical marvels every time they speak.

I predict the future.

No, I’m not psychic. I’m just really, really good at guessing what’s going to happen.

I can predict every clothing trend a decade in advance.

I can instantly tell which new products will fail, and which will skyrocket.

I can also watch someone for ten minutes, and then lay out their thoughts and actions for the next hour on a spreadsheet. With 90% or above accuracy.

The government used me like a human lie detector.

I finished my mindless absorption of the report, then got up from the easy chair, which also happens to be the only other piece of furniture in this tiny room besides the bed.

Some halfhearted decorator attempted to soften the steel with a fluffy pink rug, but it only makes the brushed metal stand out even further.

My watch reads 3:10 AM.

I have an hour and fifty minutes before I’m supposed to be awake.

Enough time.

I went to the bathroom, which adjoins the bedroom through a small door to the right of the bed.

Brush my teeth.

Brush my hair

Use the toilet.

Done.

On the left side of the bed and next to the easy chair is the only exit from my chambers.

There is no lock on the door. No restriction. Freedom at the twist of a knob.

Why keep your assets locked in tiny rooms when you can keep them locked under a mountain instead?

The government is not very clever.

My mind spins through hundreds of hours of interaction with government employees—everyone from drooling janitors to strategic assets in the FBI—to see if I can ever recall a moment of wit or cleverness.

No such luck.

I stepped out into the hall, softly closing the door behind me.

Ceiling cameras roved these halls with beams of synthesized vision, intent upon descrying every inch of the sharp-cornered halls. Operators observed behind the machines, constantly checking and rechecking to avert any error.

Supposedly unbeatable.

I was technically allowed to be out and around the facility any time I wanted.

Technicalities are a lie.

At the very least, me moving around at this hour would raise suspicion.

So how do you beat an unbeatable system?

You show it what it wants to see.

I turned left down the hall, and emulated the sleepy, sluggish pace of someone who’d just woken up.

A few hundred yards of hallway and a single fork led to to the kitchens, which was brightly illuminated by the same white LEDs as everywhere else.

The stark cafeteria consisted of little more than a few tables, a coffee machine on a metal shelf bolted to the wall, and an empty food counter.

I plucked a foam coffee cup from the waiting stack and filled it with water from the adjoining tap. Took a sip.

Flat and lukewarm, but I didn’t need the water for a drink.

I retraced my steps, still walking like my mind was foggy.

The door to my quarters remained where I had left it on the right side of the hall, bringing to mind the image of a faithful pooch waiting for its master.

I stopped in front of it, reached out, turned the knob, then hurled my water down the hall.

“AAAAAH!” I yelled, faking an angry scream.

Then I pushed the door inwards, and pulled it back hard and darted to the left.

For just a moment I held still, clinging to the wall, then I ran, bare feet stepping softly, until the hallway made a made a hard 90° a few dozen yards past.

Cameras fooled.

The way this trick worked was simple, if one happened to be me.

The cameras were programmed to automatically react to loud noises and fast movement, and focus in on the source. This narrowed their field of vision.

By making a loud noise with the door, and then stepping away, I placed myself outside the vision field at the same half-second the camera was focusing. Watching the video feed would reveal a convincing facsimile of myself entering my room.

A cleanup crew would be sent to mop up the water from my thrown cup, and the cameras would be concentrated upon the janitors.

No one would enter my room.

No one would even touch the door.

Benefits of being a priceless asset.

I was free, at least as far as freedom goes in my situation.


4:30 AM found me hiding in a cleaning closet.

The door had a padlock on it, but people are predictable in what four numbers they will automatically choose for a password.

I was concocting one final trick for the pigs who controlled my life.

One final defiance.

Because today was the day.

I wasn’t scared of being frozen. Wasn’t scared for my own life.

I was scared about what the world might look like when I saw it next.

What will your world look like in the next fifteen minutes?

What about the next hour?

What about tomorrow?

Do you know what you will do tomorrow? How you’ll react? What your life will look like?

Chance are you know, because you’re an ordinary person.

I am a Generate.

Once I’m frozen this morning, my next fifteen minutes could be a decade in the future.

I could be woken up for a day, to solve a problem a hundred years later.

I could be unfrozen a millennia from now to the planet being obliterated in a nuclear showdown of interstellar forces.

Whereas as everyone else in the world will live a short but happy life in the now, I am eternal, doomed to live out the final ten years of my life in a patchwork of the world’s worst moments, until I either go insane or someone slits my throat as I sleep.

Suddenly I felt a wave of revulsion for what I had planned to do. Petty pranks meant nothing in the face of the virtual obliteration I faced.

I kicked open the door to the closet and stalked out like a wraith emerging from the shadows.

I sprinted down the hallway at top speed, my dark hair flying out behind me.

Whatever I must face, I would face it head on.


10:00 AM.

I had been in this room many times. Seen, been told of it’s function. I had even seen another Generate being frozen here.

But nothing was the same as standing silent, waiting for my time to come.

I was twenty-two.

In this vaulted chamber, I was about to be frozen for years untold, another weapon in the arsenal of the World Council.

“Karina, are you prepared?” a voice called into my mind from somewhere out in the abyss.

Without opening my eyes, I analyzed his words. I had met him before—a certain Lieutenant Samuel Gray. He was not asking a question. He was regretting having eaten glazed donuts before coming here.

And one final thing in his voice made me pause—a minuscule quaver as he said my name. This government man was afraid of me. Maybe not even consciously, but it was there. I laughed bitterly inside myself.

I wanted to play on that fear.

“Prepared?” I barked, “How could I EVER be prepared?” I let my eyes open, and a wild cast fill them, “What could ever sooth my wounds?”

Samuel stammered, drawing back the merest inch.

“From the moment I was born, I was predestined. Predestined to be a slave. The very brightest of humanity, forced into slavery because of my mind!”

Then I got quiet. Tilted my head a little. “Have you ever wondered how many of us go insane before we ever get to this stage? How many lose our minds before they ever get used by you? I bet it’s an awfully high percentage.”

To each question Samuel stammered a tremulous ‘no’.

“What if I were insane? I’m brilliant. No question. Do you think I would ever be stupid enough to let my madness show?? I can predict your every move before you even think it.

My voice rose to a crescendo. “I’M ONE OF THE FIFTEEN SMARTEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD WHO ISN’T IN A FREEZER.” Then I whispered, “’Prepared’ is an understatement...a mockery.”

Ol’ Sammy was mortified, no doubt trying to the limits of his pitiful intelligence to decide if I really was insane.

To be honest, I wasn’t too sure myself.

What is the definition of insanity? A relatively permanent illness of the mind.

The difference between brilliance and illness is small indeed.

Even now I could feel threads of chaotic energy unraveling within my mind.

I reeled them back in, and forced myself to observe my surroundings.

The chamber was constructed of flawless white stone rising to a vaulted ceiling, its fluted architecture belying the rest of the subterranean compound.

One large wooden door was set into the wall behind us—the only entrance.

In front of us, on a raised dais, was a king size bed, outfitted with silky flowing sheets and a tall pale headboard.

The subject to be frozen would lay on the bed and be administered sedatives to slowly put them to sleep.

Gentle cruelty, I thought.

All went silent.

When I deigned to look at Sammy, he flinched away in fright.

The door behind us opened.

A host of men in suits entered, escorted by soldiers bearing heavy arms and composite armor.

Each one looked to be in their early twenties or even late teens.

And behind them entered an even tighter bundle of decked out goons clustered around someone.

A flashing gap opened, and through it I could see a tall, slender man with Indian coloration, wearing fitted black clothing.

His eye caught mine, and for a moment it felt like a direct channel had opened up between our minds, a language only we could understand, composed of facial expression and body language.

You’re another Generate. He said.

Yes.

What’s your name?

Karina.

I’m James. You are not alone.

And then James was again enclosed by green and black.

They began to lead me up the shallow steps to the bed, more soldiers joining Lieutenant Gray so they could completely surround me.

I wanted to fight, to scream, to kick, but I could see that there was no plausible way of escaping.

I got to the bed at the same time as James, and the realization hit me. They were going to put us in at the same time.

Our eyes met again. Once again creating the link of brilliant inference.

He grinned with such kindness and trust. Do not fear, Karina. We sacrifice so that others may live. That one day there might be an answer to this mess we have found our way into.

My features gave him an answer. Sacrifice I am aware of, but what about us? Should we not have a chance to live too?

Sister, we shall live. We shall live together, in the fleeting moments we are given, working together for the greater good of humanity. This is glory and honor! It will be our names in the history books, given as immortal heroes to the children of generations eternal!

His face softened, and he reached across the bed to take my hand. I let him. We sacrifice because we are better. We sacrifice because out of our frozen ashes, the world will be given hope.

I don’t agree with you...but I trust you.

I was vaguely aware of a baby-faced doctor motioning for me to lie down. We did.

A cold needle slid home into my arm, and I squeezed James’s hand tighter.

This was it.

The moment.

The culmination of my silly, petty, brilliant, childish life.

And all I could thing of was this: I am not alone.


Dear reader, what does your life look like?

How old are you?

Are you married?

Where do you live?

These questions are everything.

Questions are life. Questions are what makes us human.

My name is Karina Richeson, and my life is one question: “What is my purpose?”

I asked James one time, and this is what he said, “To live for the future.”

I’m not quite sure of the answer yet, but I will be.

Someday.

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123 comments

Rhondalise Mitza
18:26 Oct 14, 2020

Hallo, loves! Tis I, your fairy godmother of grammar and style! I have decided to grace your comment section with a healthy dose of advice/critique: -The format was too poetic for the dystopian genre in my opinion, but that's been mentioned by others and you obviously don't feel like changing it. -I understand how the exposition was meant to give background to the character, but if you made her a stronger and more likable girl there wouldn't be as much of a need for that; I know it's a short story but you could still incorporate more of ...

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18:33 Oct 14, 2020

Thanks. :) Sorry for that bit about patriarchy--me and Joshua were having a convo on a different thread, that then ended up here. Patriarchy is not the theme. XD

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Rhondalise Mitza
18:45 Oct 14, 2020

makes sense, thanks for clarifying!

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A.G. Scott
18:56 Oct 14, 2020

Right? I was like wait, where? lol I want to emphasize "Take it to mind as a writer, not to heart as a person." I think she hit the nail on the head there. I feel like I may have initially responded to this story a little bit harshly, and it had a lot to do with 'my beta readers liked that part, so i'm not going to change it' and 'keep in mind i wrote this in 3 hours.' The intention of all (or almost all) of the people on here is to make sure other writers keep at it and inch closer to the best story they can possibly write. You explicit...

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18:58 Oct 14, 2020

Fair points all.

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Rhondalise Mitza
19:13 Oct 14, 2020

https://youtu.be/y25stK5ymlA

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20:48 Oct 14, 2020

And yes, I like poetic writing. This was my first dystopian story, so it was an interesting experience to write. :)

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P. Jean
18:30 Oct 14, 2020

I liked it a bunch. Period. I won’t shred a brilliant effort. I’m never sure where the genius gurus get off shredding someone’s vision. I personally wanted more BUT I KNOW LITTLE! I hate that so many young writers jump to the future for every effort. Do they not see and feel the present as having questions, value and intense detail too?

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18:42 Oct 14, 2020

Thanks! I'm honestly not a fan of future/sci-fi--wrote it for the science of going into stasis. This one was written for the last contest, but finished too late. I will have a current entry for this contest.

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P. Jean
18:51 Oct 14, 2020

I look forward to it!

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Charles Stucker
18:09 Oct 14, 2020

The absolute cutoff point for life is the age of 32. At 45, it’s lights out, no matter what.- So which is it, 32 or 45? Did you mean, almost everyone reaches 32, but nobody lives past 45? I can predict every clothing trend a decade in advance.- If she's 22, she must have matured into her full predictive ability early for them to have many data points. To predict the last five years (barely enough to be a pattern) she must have begun when she was seven. And all I could thing of was this- think This is slow. It's all internal monologu...

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18:16 Oct 14, 2020

Thanks for the honest critique. :) Yeah, it's supposed to be 32--just a discrepancy in writing, lol. I struggled with the virus, and talking about it--didn't want to add any more infodump than I already did. And P.S. that is what they're doing with their biologists in the background, just not mentioned on stage. I am familiar with mitochondria and telomeres, however I needed a reason for the character to be put into stasis. (Actually wrote this one for a prompt in the last contest.) I have indeed been thinking. Please consider the f...

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Charles Stucker
19:56 Oct 14, 2020

If you want it to read faster, start with, "I turn twenty-two today and I'm about to get the long sleep." Then, keep a lot to yourself. Instead of the virus being an attempt to defy aging, it's just something which came out of the blue but has markers indicating it is genetically engineered. Nobody has to know if it was released deliberately or accidentally. So all she has to do is note the virus is man-made. Typos and little glitches of writing will always pop out when you do the Reedsy rush. Side note- Marilyn Vos Savant, highest record...

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20:08 Oct 14, 2020

Good ideas all. 🙂 I came up with the idea of an anti-aging virus to make a cutoff point for life more plausible to associate, but I can see that it's also unnecessary details. Yes, I have heard of Marilyn Vos Savant. I'm of the personal opinion that IQ is actually a bad measure of overall intelligence, as it caters only to a very specific area of the brain. (Einstein couldn't tie his own shoelaces. 😂 Earlier you did the math on how many people would be alive. (just noticed this) I wanted to add that the virus didn't insta-kill every...

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Charles Stucker
22:14 Oct 14, 2020

When telomeres run out you get cellular senescence. It causes slow deterioration and usually begins when the telomers run out around age 40. the best longevity research would let you live at forty indefinitely, sort of. Other things go on, but telomeres are the obvious choice. Yes mitochondria to rebuild would be a possible route, but you can get me doing science geek any time.

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B. W.
17:45 Oct 14, 2020

Hm, i really enjoyed this story and you did a great job with it, i hope that you'll continue to make more stories on here. 10/10 :)

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17:52 Oct 14, 2020

Thanks. :) Any way it could be better?

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B. W.
17:53 Oct 14, 2020

I suck at giving advice, sorry about that

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17:53 Oct 14, 2020

All cool, lol. :D

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Zilla Babbitt
15:36 Nov 17, 2020

Things I don't like: 1. The title. 2. It's all telling. Things I like: 1. Everything else.

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15:48 Nov 17, 2020

That about sums this up. Not my favorite work by any means.

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20:47 Oct 14, 2020

Just a note, I've now finished the first draft of my other entry to this contest. If anyone wouldn't mind giving it a read as well. 😉

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A.G. Scott
17:45 Oct 14, 2020

This is all my opinion, so if you could refrain from downvoting me the way you downvoted Joshua, I would appreciate that (if indeed that was you). Yeah, I'm going to agree with Joshua here, actually. I would much prefer if this adhered to standard formatting. There are certain parts, of course, where the line by line stuff works, and perhaps is even better (e.g., the 'questions'). But if you're determined to stick to it, fine. Other than that, there's not much technically for me to comment on, and I won't bother you with the few small thi...

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17:51 Oct 14, 2020

Ok. :) Yeah, I appreciate honest criticism greatly. Honestly, it's not a self insert. 😂 If you wouldn't mind telling me the small things, I'd love to hear them--my goal is to make my writing better. The line by line formatting does look a bit weird in this display Reedsy uses. (I wrote it in LibreOffice) I might attempt to reorganize the thought to group better.

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A.G. Scott
18:17 Oct 14, 2020

“Questions like are life itself.” – ‘like this’, I assume “correct….in a way.” - … “Your life IS a box of chocolates.” – is in italics would be standard emphasis. The #1 blessing (?) is unclear. The absolute cutoff point is 32, but it’s not lights out until 45? And then, “Some die earlier” needs a period. - Reading some of the later stuff, it seems like this “45” bit is useless. #2: So the absolute cutoff point means life is over when you are no longer young and strong? “a margin greater than Mt. Everest.” – do you mean that ...

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18:28 Oct 14, 2020

Lol, yeah, the grammar in the first few critiques are correct--haven't gotten around to fixing them. Yes, the will item is causal. Ok, i'll work on making it clearer. ;) One of the things that rankled me with this story is the length. Once I add in the appropriate "this" to "Questions like are life itself" the story will be at exactly 3,000 words. Not too much room. Lets see what I can do. I just fixed '45' to '32'. It was a simple error on my part. ;)

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15:52 Oct 14, 2020

I will give you one thing, at least you are trying to say something. But the boatloads of exposition and abhorrent disregard for paragraph formatting made it painful to trudge through. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/acquired-spontaneity/201708/why-patriarchy-is-not-about-men

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15:58 Oct 14, 2020

Ok. :) Paragraph disregard is a known and accepted accepted practice when writing fiction, as thoughts don't often come in complete sentences or paragraphs. ;) I did dislike the amount of exposition present, but felt it was necessary to the story.

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16:01 Oct 14, 2020

Yeah, when it works. Here it just feels stilted and awkward.

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16:13 Oct 14, 2020

Ok. :) With my list of Beta Readers I run everything by, I had a lot of people like that section, so I'm gonna keep it. Would you mind quoting any specific incidences of stilted and awkward speech? I'd love to try and make it better. :)

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16:27 Oct 14, 2020

Nope. Unless you are paying me to proofread and edit, that is not something I enjoy doing at all. You asked me to read your work to determine if you were vapid, so I did. Your story has no bearing on the vapidity you illustrated in the convo about patriarchy.

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16:31 Oct 14, 2020

😂 Taking ourselves a bit too seriously are we? Nevermind, I was simply asking if you would point out what you didn't like. 😁 So, what's your conclusion. Am I vapid?

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13:22 May 06, 2021

*not me thinking that there's nothing vapid about leo's comebacks-*

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15:24 Oct 14, 2020

Whoa. I would definitely shortlist this if I were a judge! Brilliant! Loved the dystopian feeling in it, and your wording was perfect! Awesome job! I give this a ... 90 out of 100. There’s always room to improve! I only suggest limiting the ellipsis (These things —> ... ) to just 3. Otherwise, it’s awesome!

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15:27 Oct 14, 2020

Awesome. :) I didn't catch any of the discrepancies or writing faux pas that are likely present here--just kinda threw it on the page with 0 editing. Thx for the comment!

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15:55 Oct 14, 2020

Oh thx. :)

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15:54 Oct 14, 2020

You’re welcome! Well, if you’re on a computer/laptop just click ctrl + f, then type in 4 dots.

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02:30 Nov 05, 2020

Ahh I really like it! Well done :D - One thing I especially liked was the ending communication between Karina and James. I thought it was a great way to finish and a well-written revelation to the motives and meaning of their society. The concepts in this story are really well-thought-out as well, if you're ever up to it, I wouldn't mind reading more ahaha. - In terms of constructive feedback, I agree with Rhondalise in that the repetition of her name would probably be best to restrict to once at the beginning and the end, and that the nu...

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02:40 Nov 05, 2020

Glad U liked it. :)

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01:22 Nov 02, 2020

I'm so blown away sdivpnipfniefe in some ways it reminds me of Captain Amercia (u know the whole freezing thing) but it also reminds me of The Giver by Lois Lowry with the somewhat dystopian edge to it. It made me think of a million more problems that r worse than mine (which currently, is trying to open my banana peel), I rlly enjoyed reading once again!

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01:34 Nov 02, 2020

Happy U liked it! Yeah, this was my first ever try at writing any sort of dystopian themed story, so it isn't exactly a shining example of written work, but it's okay. ;)

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B. W.
18:54 Oct 26, 2020

Hey, could you maybe help me with a couple other stuff again?

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19:14 Oct 26, 2020

Sure, whadaya need help with?

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B. W.
19:30 Oct 26, 2020

i need more advice on how to be descriptive

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19:32 Oct 26, 2020

So, I'll need to get a grasp of how you describe. Can you say, describe to me a fearsome dinosaur? (I know it sounds silly, just trying to get a specific example of what I'm working with. :P)

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B. W.
19:42 Oct 26, 2020

Um, okay? "you had been sitting in the middle of a dense forest and right next to you was a large puddle of water, as it had rained for a few hours. Suddenly, you could hear loud stomps from the distance, you looked at the puddle to see that it was beginning to ripple. It almost reminded you of that scene from Jurassic park which you always seemed to love. Not long after this, a loud graceful roar come from behind the trees, you didn't know what to even expect, you just wanted to wake up. Were you even asleep though? You never had long dream...

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20:48 Oct 26, 2020

So, this is honestly just fine. The only thing is a few instances with word choice. "seemed" "almost" and "looked" are weak words here. They don't give us a definitive picture. But otherwise, you painted a clear mental image that gets the point across. :)

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B. W.
18:48 Oct 23, 2020

uh- your that mad at the down-voter/down-voters? I just read your Bio again cuz i was bored, ya wish death for em?

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20:38 Oct 23, 2020

I'm messing around. :P I don't wish literal death on them. XD

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B. W.
20:41 Oct 23, 2020

well- it would be concerning a bit and strange if ya actually did. Has Hannah said anything?

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23:04 Oct 23, 2020

Not that I've seen...

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B. W.
23:06 Oct 23, 2020

do ya think she'll even say anything?

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23:36 Oct 23, 2020

Who knows. You remember being eleven? I wasn't really the sanest creature at that time. XD

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B. W.
21:44 Oct 22, 2020

Hey, i could use some help with a couple of things if that's alright with ya. I'm not sure if i've read this one but i will give it a 10/10 just in case i havent ^^

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22:03 Oct 22, 2020

Whadaya need help with?

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B. W.
22:08 Oct 22, 2020

well, you read "a strange place" right?

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22:11 Oct 22, 2020

No, I didn't. Reading now...

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B. W.
22:42 Oct 22, 2020

alright thanks ^^ so ya know how Blue is a werewolf?

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22:43 Oct 22, 2020

Yeah.

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22:20 Oct 22, 2020

Read it.

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Tessa Takzikab
20:44 Oct 19, 2020

Wow. I'm not sure how to respond to this. It's a really nice story. Although how Karina communicates with the reader is hard to understand, I think the way you had her keep breaking the fourth wall was very well done. I did notice a couple of small mistakes. Chance are you know, because you’re an ordinary person. -Chances Whereas as everyone else in the world will live a short but happy life in the now -Extra as That's it. Great work!

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21:10 Oct 19, 2020

Thx for the catches. :)

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Robyn Jacobson
16:34 Oct 19, 2020

I really enjoyed this story. While, yes, the poetic form doesn't quite match the dystopian world, I actually liked that a lot. It gave a kind of contrast that I found rather interesting. One thing I would like to note- You switched tenses a lot, from past to present. In noticing this, I wasn't as able to focus quite as much on the story. If this was intentional, I apologize for my ignorance, but I think it would be helpful to stay in one tense. All around a very good story. Your use of imagery is beautiful and consistent. Well done.

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19:40 Oct 19, 2020

So, the POV I used is called 1st Person Past. "I ran down the corridor" instead of, "I run down the corridor" (1st Person Present) I don't know if you saw any discrepancies like that, or if the POV was just confusing? Nobody else has noted that... Would you mind listing for me a few instances in which I break tense? :) Thanks for the read!

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Robyn Jacobson
23:55 Oct 22, 2020

Sorry, I just reread and noticed that some of it was reflection while other parts were facts that would still be true. I got confused at parts like "I am a Generate" the first time through, but now that I'm looking at it again, I realize that it was my own misunderstanding. I apologize.

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00:54 Oct 23, 2020

All cool. ;) This was a hastily written and edited work--clarity is not one of strong points. XD

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02:47 Oct 16, 2020

Love the story and I followed it right through to the end, it drew me in with the creative start. I loved it! Keep up the good work. Lily

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Ari .
17:42 Oct 15, 2020

It was a little slow going in, so I wasn’t really ground in the story until a few paragraphs in. But I liked how you turned it back to us. The connection between the reader and narrator was very intimate. Well done! The only thing I can think to add is the grouping of phrases. Often writers will isolate sentences for dramatic effect, but you do it so frequently that it’s a bit dulled. I can understand why you’d want to single everything out, though. Every one of those sentences has dramatic potential. I’d just suggest being a bit more sel...

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17:45 Oct 15, 2020

Thank you. :) I'm working on a revision with better grouping--not my first priority though. I actually wrote this one for a previous contest, and then came up with the idea to adapt it for this one. If you'd give a read to the other two submissions I've posted, that would be great. :D

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10:12 Oct 15, 2020

I really love the story, I pictured myself in that era ,its so deep and full of suspense ( I LOVE suspense) anyways good job 👑

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11:30 Oct 15, 2020

Thank you. :)

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12:49 Oct 15, 2020

You are welcome 🤗

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Kate Enoch
02:43 Oct 15, 2020

Hey Caden! I really liked the way you wrote this story. The semi-poetic format gives it a more dramatic feel and I thought it was new and interesting.

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11:30 Oct 15, 2020

Thanks for the read!

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