As of recently I’ve been doing more blog writing when I’ve had the spare time than actual fiction writing which is what I enjoy.
Part of it is too many things on the go so I don’t know what to work on (surprise fucking surprise) and part of it is a self-imposed obligation to keep content flowing into the blog.
Which mean when I get the opportunity to write I tend to just do that instead of writing fiction.
Well tonight, I’m in my creativity dungeon (Which finally has a heater so the gimp has stopped complaining that it’s too cold) plotting and planning some fiction.
I kind of liked what I wrote so I’ve chopped off a small slither and am offering up a little taste of what’s got my attention at the moment.
It’s entirely out of context as you’d imagine but just fill in the gaps and enjoy.
According to Two there was a time long ago when they weren’t called “Drones”, he and his kind were called “Clones”.
Even though they were a runty malformed carbon copy of the original that bore barely any physical resemblance, they shared the same blood and were classified as duplicates in servitude.
They had rights, they received schooling and they were treated with a modicum of dignity.
Then resources started to become scarce. People began to ask why an imperfect copy of a person received the same rights and privilege as a true born human.
Slowly things were taken from two and his kind.
First their names were taken. Serial numbers were more fitting to property.
Then, their right to an education. Why spend the effort when they’re barely a pet.
Then citizenship. Unless you count the sector of manufacturing information encoded on the chip.
Finally, a loss to basic human rights. Human being the operative word.
The extent of an “education” that was received by 47 and any generation following the first was an imprinted genetic memory. He and his predecessors were birthed from vats into true servitude and carried just the basics needed to serve their owner. Enough to eat, breath, shit and work with the special bonus capacity to multi task the whole lot at the same time. A skill that had been put to the test more than several times.
47 was not educated like 2, he didn’t know about the sun, grass, the ocean, certainly not animals like cows.
But at this very moment, with the car that was serving as his shield slowly melting to slag right before him from the unrelenting onslaught of a pyro-fly swarm, with the “Gauntlet armours” HUD screaming at him about overheating issues despite it not being nice enough to play ball and activate its shield, and with his robotically assisted vice like grip coming up trumps to the now malleable metal of the car shield forcing him to slowly lose ground while changing grip 47 knew several facts.
Right about now is when his owners ancestors probably started doing that “Praying” thing 2 had mentioned before.
And even though he had no idea what a cow was or looked like, he knew that this situation, was complete and utter bullshit.