On a related topic, for anyone who would like an idea of what I've been writing for the past month, the title is "The Society" and the synopsis is as follows:
Thomas Quinn lives in a world where excess of technology is considered to be the bane of mankind after a tech-driven catastrophe decimated most of the world's population. Nature is nonexistent, for the planet had already been taken over by concrete and metal in the generations before he and his friends were born. Their city is a very rigid, structured place where every individual must fit into one category in which he or she can do the most good for everyone else. Thomas is a rare case, and faces a choice between two aptitudes: Oratory, the leaders and speakers who keep the city alive; or Challenger, the hardened warriors who fight on the front lines against the rogue mech that constantly threaten the people. But Thomas's dormmate, Joe Carpenter, is an even rarer case still—two days before Thomas must make the biggest decision of his life, Joe is told that he has no aptitude whatsoever. And when Thomas learns the fate that waits for those the council has decided cannot give back to their gloriously self-sustaining culture and meets the ones who have escaped it, his view of the society he's believed in his entire life may change forever.
Obviously, it's kind of a dystopia but without much of the sci-fi element that comes into a lot of them. There isn't a lot of majorly advanced technology because most of it was completely stopped when the former global society was destroyed... at least, as far as Thomas knows, right?
Aaand if you just happen to be dying for more, here's an excerpt! If
you like my writing, stay tuned--I plan on completing and editing this
for publication via Amazon.THE SOCIETY
by Tabatha Summers, ©2012
The sign lying in the gritty road read Lauderdale Memorial Parkway—pretty ironic, considering that no one
around here had any idea who or what “Lauderdale” had ever been. Maybe he was
some important orator who had united a people. Maybe that was the name of the
cataclysm that had ripped the world apart. Then again, maybe it had just been
someone’s pet dog.
But no, I was letting my mind wander; I had to focus! An
important part of this challenge, of every challenge that Proctor Anders gave me,
was to maintain my focus despite whatever odds and distractions were piled
against me. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to see past the smoke and grime that
veiled the city and whatever else might be lurking just beyond my sight.
There! Between the shell of a rusty old train car and the
wall of what might once have been a warehouse was the target I had been sent
after. But as I honed in on the object I
had been searching for, I became suddenly aware of the heavy footfalls behind
me. They were coming, and there was nothing between me and the advancing army.
I could either hide, watching them take my objective from a place of safety, or
fight them and most likely be taken down. This was exactly the type of no-win
situation that proved strength of character and will. Setting my jaw, I turned
to face the footsteps and my own imminent defeat.
And then I thought of something.
It was probably crazy, so completely insane that I would
surely be kicked out of the Challenger program if I was wrong. Yet as always, a
nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me that I just might be right,
and if I was, it might even be something no one else had ever thought of
before.
A streak of yellow light cut through the fog, undoubtedly
searching for me, and I made up my mind. If nothing else, I had to know.
I turned so abruptly that my boots sent gravel flying before
I even took off. I heard a buzzing behind me that I knew meant my adversaries
had pinpointed my location, but I didn’t allow myself to look back even as
several more yellow lights illuminated the ground in front of me and the small
leather package I was racing toward.
Something snagged my heel and I fell, rocks grinding into my
forearms as I caught myself. I ignored them and jerked at my ankle, which I now
realized was wrapped with a thinly coiled wire. The blue sparks coming off it
told me that it was electrified, and the only reason it hadn’t already shocked
me unconscious was that my boot had buffered the current before it could touch
my skin.
Another attempt to yank my leg free was also to no avail,
and then I could see the shapes of their bodies looming up ahead. Desperately,
I tugged at the shoelace, narrowly avoiding a flicker of electricity off the
wire as the knot came loose. Bracing my free foot against the heel of my
trapped one, I pulled with all my might and somehow my foot came loose, sock
coming within a hair’s breadth of the wire as it constricted the now-empty
shoe.
I didn’t know how close they had gotten while I struggled
and I didn’t stop to check, just launched myself forward with new resolve. I
had barely cleared the entrance of the dilapidated train car when something
thudded against the iron outside. Undoubtedly it was another electric lash, and
it was lucky I had dodged it because I had no more time to spare.
Practically throwing myself out the other side of the hollow
car, I landed in the grit and tried to slide the door closed as a temporary
barrier. But the door was rusted and not properly on the track, and as soon as
I heard the distressed screech of metal, I gave that up. Besides, if I was
right, all I needed was the package.
Almost on cue, one of the yellow lights focused on my
location, illuminating the carriage’s shadow and the small leather bag dangling
a foot from my left hand. It was a courier’s purse, just like my mission
briefing had described, and it was firmly stuck on a part of the train’s wheel
that I didn’t know the name for. I tried to pull it loose, but neither the
thick leather strap nor the corroded metal would give. Another electric lash
struck the metal and bounced away, twisting on the ground like a snake made of
lightning. I had no time for this.
For a second, I fumbled with the catch on the bag, and by
the time I got it open, the shadows of my pursuers were so close that I knew they
would be turning the corner any moment. Jerking back the flap, I reached inside
and at first thought in a panic that it was empty. Then my fingers closed
around a cube in the corner and I pulled it out frantically.
One side of the thing was about the size of my palm, and I
had never seen anything like it before. It seemed to be made of two different
types of metal set in with tiny flickering images under glass. I had no idea
what any of it meant, and my first impulse was to drop the thing like a hot coal—things
like this were dangerous! This was exactly the type of tech that had split the
world, which every child was warned of in school from the time they were old
enough to listen.
Then they came around the corner, and I realized I was
wrong; they were the tech that had
ripped society apart. Some had been built to look like men, with bodies made of
the same metals I had just seen on the cube and glowing yellow spotlights in
place of eyes. I was nearly blinded when they all focused on me at once, and
ducked back to the other side of the train car for cover.
If I figured right, I probably had less than ten seconds. I
didn’t think my heart had ever been beating faster, but I tried to ignore it.
Ten seconds was enough time to figure out how this thing worked, right? Of
course, that was assuming my hunch had been right in the first place…
I turned the cube over in my hands, my mind turning even
faster. The tiny images, I now realized, were actually buttons, for they gave
way beneath my fingers. The images even seemed to change when I pressed them,
but I had no idea what any of them meant; they had only symbols, no words. Desperation
took hold and I considered smashing it against the ground, though I doubted
that would solve anything. But as my fingers clenched around it, suddenly one
square lit up bright yellow. Exactly the same bright yellow as their spotlight
eyes.
Heart hammering in my chest, I pressed the yellow light and
held it in. Three seconds… two seconds… The lights on the cube abruptly all
flickered off, and the motorized whirring of the mech-men’s footsteps came to a
sudden stop. I almost didn’t dare to breathe as I leaned to check around the
corner.
The mech-men had crumpled like marionettes with their
strings cut, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had been right!
“Excellent work,” said a familiar voice, and it took a
tremendous amount of willpower to keep from letting Proctor Anders see that he
had startled me. I kept on a straight face though when I turned to face him,
inclining my head appreciatively.
“Thank you, sir.”
Proctor Anders was one of the younger instructors at the
Institute, but he was probably nearing forty years old, and the lines around
his dark eyes showed it. Just then, he also had a line between his eyebrows,
and he seemed to be looking at me as if he couldn’t figure me out.
“Mr. Quinn, how did you know that cube would control the
mechs?”
Something in his tone put me on my guard. I knew without
being told that my answer too would be part of this test, and I cleared my
throat to give myself time to think of the right words before answering.
“My orders in the mission briefing were to retrieve an item
of vital importance that had been lost in enemy territory. The letter also
stated that the item in question would be the key to defeating the mechs in the
area. I was cornered, and I drew a conclusion; it turned out to be the right
one.”
Proctor Anders nodded understandingly, though his eyes
remained unreadable as always. “And how did you know the correct deactivation
sequence?”
I didn’t recognize the words; I wasn’t in the Mechnotechnology
program, after all. My expression must have given away my ignorance, because he
repeated more clearly, “How did you know how to make the cube shut off the
mechs?”
I smiled tightly, but I didn’t lie to sound smarter than I
really was. “I didn’t know. But one of the screens started to glow the color of
their eyes. I thought it was my best bet.”
“A very good guess,” Proctor Anders said, sounding
satisfied. “You are certainly coming to show that you have the instincts to be
a top-notch Challenger, Mr. Quinn.”
I finally let myself breathe again at that. I had passed yet
again, where so many failed. The Challenger program was one of the most
difficult to remain in all the way through ten years of aptitude honing, but I
was almost there; my eighteenth birthday would be in two days, and then I would
have my dedication day. If I made it two more days, at least—the last week of
tests were known all around to be the toughest, set by the proctors to be
completely certain anyone without the appropriate aptitudes had been weeded
out.
“Here, I’ll dispose of that,” Proctor Anders said, holding
out his hand for the cube, which I gave over gladly. He must have noticed my
expression, because he smiled wryly. “They’re right to tell you that tech is
dangerous, you know,” he said in a voice I hadn’t heard before, serious and
pensive. “Uncontrolled tech caused a lot of damage to our world that can never
be repaired—and you’ve seen a little of what the mechs can do in training.” He
paused and scratched at the dark stubble on his chin before adding, “But not
all of it is overtly dangerous. You ride in autos and don’t think of them like
the uncontainable ones, right? They’re mechs as well—of a much simpler variety.
And we still use small forms of tech in keypads on doors and everything else
electrical. Lines aren’t always simply drawn between black and white or good
and evil. Make sure you remember that, and never let anyone convince you to
lose the ability to draw your own conclusions if you dedicate to Challenger.”
I nodded, and just like that his normal unreadable
expression was back as he called on a short-wave radio for
a car to take us back to the city. But I couldn’t help but think that perhaps
Proctor Anders had just given me my first real glimpse into the mind of an
experienced Challenger.
