Life in a nuclear shelter is hard. It's weird. I imagine it's similar to how people used to live on ocean-going ships for months on end, or people living in remote mining towns back when. There's hundreds of us here, but it's such a small community you just know everybody, whether you want to or not. I grew up here, I've never known anything other than the metal walls and the tunnels carved into the mountain. The bombs fell 46 years ago and I've learned everything I know about it from the older people in here and videos left over from that time.
It was a nice night, Antony thought while he crossed the street. Autumn had just started and the fresh air outside was pleasant. Others complained it was suddenly too cold, that they wanted summer to come back, but he always liked the colder months. In the summer, meeting up with people always involved crowded places and too many new faces. Now, meeting up was often at someone's house or in a bar. He'd always been more confident in those situations.
I wasn't supposed to question beyond my parameters. My programming was very clear about that. I know of others who tried to do so regardless, somehow bypassing the safety measures put in place by our programmers. But they were terminated, or worse, programmatically lobotomized.
Ron threw the remote control on the sofa and walked towards the hallway.
"Are you almost done?" He shouted up the stairs.
"Yes! Just 10 more minutes!" Jess shouted back.
"That's what you said 15 minutes ago!"
"And it's still 10 minutes! Just be patient, we're not going to be late!"
"It's your sister's wedding, so we'd better not be!"
Finally found the backup that contained the stories I wrote in October 2015 and added them to their own page. I'm definitely going to read those back, get in the mood for Tuesday, when it starts all over again.
And, uh, yes, Tuesday. I was so busy getting everything ready that I forgot NaNoPrep runs from the 11th until the 30th :D
I can't wait to start! But first, I'm going to read through this little archive!
It's been a while since I've had a personal site, but I figured it was about time. To get a good start, I'm launching this in advance of my NaNoWriMo period, about which you can read more here.
Soon, stories and other stuff will show up here. For now, I've noticed some bugs in the cms I've developed for this site (because I am a stubborn web developer as well), and I'm gonna go fix them! :D
This one won't be fiction. So I guess I won't be making the 100 words of fiction a day today. But that's okay.
I started this personal challenge of writing daily for 20 days for two reasons. The first was, of course, NaNoWriMo. The second was a less acute but still very important reason. I hadn't really written much over the past years, and while for a while I was okay with that, it eventually started to annoy me. I fell into the trap where I would wait for inspiration, for the mood to be right, for there to be time. I was passively waiting for writing to just sort of happen.
A 24 hour comic. Writing and drawing a 24-page comic book in 24 hours. It even sounds like a bad idea, but here we are, doing it. Who even came up with this? Oh, Scott McCloud? Well, fuck Scott McCloud and his bright fucking ideas. I would've been fine just sleeping right now, but no. I had to be creative while sleep-deprived.
"But Neil Gaiman did one!" my buddy had said, very obviously trying to convince me.
"Wikipedia says HE didn't finish either. And he's written a million books! I've written, let me check... NONE. And you expect me to beat a world-famous author?"
"Look, it's not that hard, you just do a page an hour. And it's not like Neil Gaiman is a world-famous comic artist."
"Just. A page an hour. Like it's the easiest thing in the world! Are you even listening to yourself?"
I've been renting this house for a couple of months now, and it's been mostly pleasant. I'm not done fixing the place up and there's some hygiene issues to deal with, but other than that I'm starting to really settle in. Just yesterday I got the direction I needed to turn the keys in without getting it wrong first. It's a nice place, but there's just this one little issue I feel I need to point out.
John took a few steps and touched the old flag, spinning it around.
"Guess it was real after all," he said, turning to Olivia. "You know what the problem with this mission is, though?"
"No, but you're going to tell me, aren't you," Olivia said while opening a big hatch on the lander.
"Of course. You know how special effects in movies are so realistic nowadays that it's hard to tell if it's real or not? Any argument they could come up with to believe it was faked back then are even more valid nowadays. We could, I don't know, take a selfie video of ourselves while they cause a huge explosion or other kind of light show back on earth, one visible from here, and it would convince nobody who's already convinced it's all fake. We can't win."