I wanted to find a Pocahontas meme to insert here, and this was my favorite...
So! Keeping on the fiction theme, I'm gonna start writing short stories. As I've said before, I want to be a fiction writer, and I actually have some pretty decent ideas, I'm just not ready to give them to the world yet. So I'm gonna do short stories and see how it goes.
I had kind of a long day today, so I'm actually publishing a short science-fiction story I wrote in high school, circa 2008, that I thought was pretty good... or at least interesting.
As always, I value your feedback!
_________________________________________________
The war was in it’s final stages, and every maneuver had to be executed flawlessly. A single mistake could end all hope of victory. But, unexpectedly, a stroke of luck had been granted to them- one of the enemy’s higher-ups had suddenly been captured. Normally, they took no prisoners; every living creature bearing the mark of the enemy was slaughtered. Men, yes of course, but they weren't about to underestimate a woman’s love or a child’s determination.
But they weren't about to kill this enemy. He alone possessed secrets that could be used to win the war in an instant. He wouldn't have been chosen for his position if he couldn't keep secrets, but they had ways of making even a mute man talk.
He was brought into the interrogation room, a small, cold cell with no windows, harsh lights, wires running all around, and soundproof walls. He sat in his chair tall and proud, like a wall made of pride and honor and every brave man that had fallen for his side in battle.
As they waited for the chief interrogator to arrive, they began to hook him up to the machines, wires circling him, clamped near his brain. The door opened and the chief interrogator entered. The technicians rose, nodded curtly and exited the room. The chief sat down by the control board and said briefly, “Let’s begin, shall we?”
He hit and button, and a wave of energy surged through the prisoner’s brain, collecting memories and emotions, and then sending them to the computer.
The computer screen instantly flooded with names and images and feelings from the captive’s
mind. The interrogator studied the information for several minutes and then turned to the prisoner.
"We have now scanned and copied information from your brain. These machines are made to take this information, mutate it, and feed it back into your brain as a hallucination. You have information we need. Give it to us willingly, and we won’t have to use the machines.”
The prisoner just maintained his cold, stony gaze, but with just a bit of fiery determination festering behind his eyes.
“Very well, then,” said the interrogator, and hit a series of buttons.
Instantly, the prisoner’s mind was filled with horrible, gruesome images. He saw his 6 year old daughter beaten and mutilated, his wife shot in the head, his parents festering in the bottom of a ditch, his home burning to the ground.
Suddenly, the images stopped, gone from his brain. He looked quickly around the room, becoming aware of the sweat on his brow, and screams still hanging from his lips.
“Ready for some more?” the interrogator asked, his face polluted with mock concern and sympathy.
Half an hour later, the interrogator emerged from the room, smiling. The technicians approached and peered behind him into the room. There was a man in there, but it wasn't the same one. This one was broken and defeated. His head hung low and he was crying.
The interrogator said, “He broke. Go get the information and then finish him off.”
The technicians all went in except for one. She lingered for a moment by the interrogator as if debating with herself. Finally, she asked him, “Sir, why is it that you don’t just extract the information from his brain? The hallucinations really aren't necessary.”
He smiled strangely for a moment. He put his hand on her shoulder and said quietly, “Where’s the fun in that?”
And walked away.
No comments:
Post a Comment