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Cyndi Lynn Sheridan

English 3 – Rami

January 11, 2012

 

Story: Bender, Brains of a Genius

 

I was never the popular type. I struggled making friends, and I always felt like a disappointment to my family. I was faced with challenges that made me stronger in faith and dignity. I had natural talent, and never realized this until the day I joined the San Francisco Defense Academy. This was the only place I knew to call home.

It all started when I was ten years old, and understood that the only reason I was born was to save my older brother Adam’s life. He was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of three, and my parents decided to try and conceive a child that was purposely born to save his life. Through genetic engineering, that child was me. I hated Adam for ruining my life. Ruining the relationship I had with my parents. I was slowing drifting away, into a place of emotional destruction. Once I finally began to accept the fact that my parents loved him more than me, my mother and father had another child. Everyone thought that after my baby sister was born, we would all be one perfect family again, but little did they know that never happened. In fact, perfect in my eyes will never exist. The only thing I was left looking forward to, was possibly the battlefield.

 

After coming home from a long day of school, I saw a message on the answer machine reading “One missed call from San Francisco Defense Academy: (415)-243-0988.” They left a call back telephone number, and I could not stop thinking about the reason behind them calling. Was I finally accepted into this academy or did I do something wrong? Assuming things always hurts. I get my hopes up just to be let down and crushed in spirit. As I sat on my living room floor contemplating my existence along with what I wanted to be in life, I felt a single tear fall from my eyes. “What is my point in life? Will I ever really make my parents proud, or am I just someone they use to benefit from?” There’s not a single day that I don’t ask myself these questions. When my parents came home from work, I lied there with a knife in my hand, only trying to prove a point. They didn’t seem to be that much concerned with what was going on. Why I was lying on the floor with a knife? The never asked if I hurt myself, but that’s what was expected. These were the reasons why I no longer wanted to live in this hellhole, and really why I decided to relocate to somewhere far away.

 

“Bender, get up! Do you have any idea where your brother’s at?” My father immediately asked. I already knew that these would be the first words out of his mouth.

 

“I don’t know sir, why don’t you call him? That would be the logical thing to do, don’t you think?” I said in fury.

 

“You better not get smart with me boy, you’d have another thing coming! Also, I came home on my lunch break, and noticed that the SFDA had called for you. I decided to call them back just to see what they wanted. They are interested in having you attend the academy, the one you’ve always been interested in. In my opinion, I don’t think it’s the best idea.”

 

“WHAT? NO! Why not? Dad you know this is one of my dreams. It can’t always be about Adam, and you know it!” I quickly responded.

 

“Bender, now listen…”

 

“Stop! I don’t want to hear it anymore. It’s always about him. Adam this, Adam that. Dad, I’m sick and tired of feeling this way. Feeling like I have no purpose to live anymore besides for Adam. I know that sounds rude, but I can’t take it anymore sir. Just leave me alone; you’ll never truly understand my emotions inside. I really hate you and mom, but most importantly I hate Adam.”

 

No sooner those three crucial but honest words left my mouth, I ran upstairs, locked my bedroom door, and never left my bed for a full week. I wasn’t able to see their faces. That Monday, I heard a knock on my door. I knew it was my dad because he was constantly trying to get in contact with me ever since I isolated myself from society. Being in my room helped me gather my feelings, and improve myself for the better. At least I hoped. From this I agreed to open my door, but shockingly it wasn’t my dad.

 

“Hello Bender, don’t be frightened. My name is General Chase Ford. I will be your head captain at San Francisco Defense Academy. Get dressed and pack your bags. Be downstairs in exactly 30 minutes. No later!”

 

Before I could even respond, he disappeared simultaneously. After packing my whole wardrobe, I turned around to head out my door, but instantly General Chase was standing there in front of it. He explained to me that there would be no goodbyes, no tears, and no freedom. I had no choices, and there were rules for everything. The only thing I would do at this academy was fight. Fight all the pain away I have been suffering from. After I agreed to everything the General stated, the next moment we were standing on the battlefield. I was already dressed in army gear prepared for my first mission.

 

I stood there facing a boy with red hair and blue eyes. His name was Ryan, and it was his third year here at the SFDA. I thought I had no chance at beating him, but with hope and power, I did. It was a brutal fight but it was well worth it. This mission showed the other boys who I was and what I can provide this academy with. My fellow acquaintances were quickly to label me as Bender, the Brains. I never doubted my intelligence, but I did doubt some of the friendships I had with the kids around me.

 

Ever since I ranked up to third prestige, I have been doing things I’ve never imagined. Everything has been going great the past 3 months. I am happy with life right now, and none of this would have been possible without the help of General Chase Ford. I was approaching the day I faced the toughest soldier here at the academy, and this would define my fate. I went in the combat zone with a firm attitude and strong willpower. The task was to driver your automobile 21000 meters at a speed of 70 m/s, then complete a puzzle involving robots and their operations, and the final step was to set the path your enemy on fire using your robot. I was already off to a bad start when the engine of my car was not working properly. This put me 2 seconds behind my opponent. Once I fixed my car, I breezed through the other parts of the obstacle. The final task seemed the most frustrating and tense. I thought it would be the easiest, but operating the robot was quite difficult since I had to determine where the switch was to shatter my enemy. It came down to the last few seconds when the anxiety within me reached its maximum level. I pressed the button on the wall, and there I was. Flames and screams that resembled my achievement. The next few days were pretty lax; everyone either envied me or were frightened of the consequences they would face if they offended me in any way. This made the boys keep their distance. This feeling of authority and power left me once I heard General Chase said, “Bender, we have to talk. Something serious happened.” Right then I knew my life would be changed forever.

 

“Bender, we just got the news from your parents that Adam is severely sick and is on his death bed. Your parents claimed that the only way for him to live is if you give him a bone marrow. They want you home. Your brother Adam is expected to only have one more day to live. Your family would really appreciate it if you were at least home spending time with them for the last day at the least.”

 

“Sir, I just can’t go home. That’s my past, the old me. This place here, this is my home. I would never have been who I am today without the SFDA. Going back home would only remind me of how things used to be. How I felt each day, and the terrifying memories that haunted me. I just don’t think I can handle going back home.” I couldn’t control myself any longer. I broke down in tears right in front of General Chase. This was such a disgrace.

 

“Bender, do it for me. Just go home! Your family needs you. The least you can do is think about it. Please?” General Chase said.

 

I had nothing else to say. I stood there facing fear right in the eye. One road was leading to my family back home, and the other bringing me back to my room at the Academy. Lets just put it this way, I took the road less traveled by, and it was the worst decision of my life. It haunted me. It made me regret every choice I’ve ever made, and led me to a place now where I feel nothing. I have no soul, no family, nothing at all.

 

 

 

 

            In the hills of Manchester lied the symbol of the Royal Government, the headquarters of the Queen, and the birth home of many of the elder HRH’s: Holygrove Palace. It stands in splendor, amongst the other buildings of the government, but much grander. The palace sat in a square, designed for the public, complete with fountains, statues, and Her Majesty’s Gardens. Great, wide steps lead a visitor to the front of the palace, where the gates denied them a chance to get too close, but also gave them an opportunity to see the splendor of Holygrove, adorned with regal brilliance of a royal line dating back centuries. Palace guards, there more as symbolism than protection, lined perfectly against the perimeter, standing in their summer outfits opposed to the usual, as despite this being a day in late October, it was sunny and mild in weather, favoring toward the warm. In the palace, Her Majesty the Queen was adhering to official Royal protocol swiftly attended to and aided by her assistants and aides. Her husband, the Duke of Ely sat in one of the many drawing rooms of the palace, quietly reading the newspaper. Amongst the nation was the issue of the couple; three royals, two princes and a princess, all with the intent of service on the behalf of Her Majesty. Of these issue, many bore their own line of issue, creating branches of the family tree known collectively as the Royal Family. The grandeur and lavish the Royals faced was that of imagination to the common man. They were treated with respect and dignity that many could only dream.

 

            Her Majesty the Queen, the head of the Royal Government, is briskly walking through the palace hallways. The Royals were holding one of their annual fall garden parties today, and it requires immense planning and preparation to allow for it to be swift and successful. An attentive ruler she is; Her Majesty felt it to be her duty to watch over all events of her realm, especially ones of importance, such as these.

“I’m not quite sure if these should be here. It would give obstructed access to the Grand Staircase,” the Queen said, her accent clear and her wisdom evident.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” her assistant, Roger Barnes.

“I just feel it would be more at place here, as all.”

 “Of course, ma’am” said Barnes, who quickly called an usher to side to tell him the new arrangement, which was changed with haste.

The garden parties were important to the Queen, it gave her a chance to mingle with the “commoners”, her ever-faithful subjects, many of which born under her long tenure as Queen. Yet, it also serves a purpose to the family, separated by all of their official duties as Royals, who now see each other less often than they used to. The parties are their duties, and so all attend the event.

 

            It was now 12 o’clock; the party began a 1 PM sharp. The ushers and organizers swiveled through Holygrove Garden, placing the final touches to make it to perfection. There are always the guests who arrive too early, and now there were a great amount of people outside of the gates of Holygrove, waiting for their entry into the most prestigious party imaginable. If the staff found that they were complete, then they would allow for the guests to enter ahead of schedule, which would allow for ease of the entire evening. Suddenly, from the road’s horizon, clearly visible from the slight plateau that Holygrove Palace was located on, a black car could be spotted, donning the official Royal seals. Behind the initial car, followed another, and one more, a total of five cars in all, the third, middle car was the largest, it was a limousine to be exact, and in addition to the seals, it had the two flags at its hood, one the Royal Coat of Arms, and the other the nation’s flag. This was evidently the motorcade of a Royal, and this was confirmed when Palace guards opened the gates for the vehicles, which briskly enter the open courts of the Palace’s interior. Once inside the gates, the formation was broken, so that now only that one, largest car headed toward the Palace inner-gates, and into a tunnel, which included a door that lead to hallways and corridors that made up sections of the Main House. The tunnel was added to give the Royals protection and privacy when they enter the home, which at times, and especially depending on the Royal, was quite essential. Yet today, there was no concern of the prying eyes of the public, as the only spectators didn’t watch with the intentions of intrusion but instead of awe of who was inside the car. The Royal’s identity was kept a secret until the car reached inside the tunnel, where the Queen’s eldest stepped outside, with no fear of the public spotting his presence.

 

            HRH Prince Alexander, the Crown Prince was his official title, the “Crown Prince” section was actually a privilege, and tradition states this title is reserved for the eldest son of the Sovereign. A fairly young man he was, in his forties yet still very handsome and young-looking for his age, and quite tall and with a nice build, the Crown Prince stood there, only a few feet or so from where he exited his state car, yet towards both his left and right we’re guards and Secret Service agents for his protection, the guards in their usual outfits while the agents dressed in their standard, black suit and tie combinations. The Prince’s suit was black as well, yet one could see the faint pinstripes in a certain light, and one could also see well the suit fit his body, how it was cut and tailored in its appropriate places. He stood there, as if to allow all the marvel in his splendorous presence, then he gave a few, Royal waves to the adoring public, watching his every move. After doing this, guards guided him to the tunnel door, and he entered to the sight of Barnes, who received word of the Prince’s planned arrival at this time the previous day.

“Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness. It appears you arrived on time,” said Barnes.

“Of course, I did. Is Her Majesty available?” said Prince Alexander, terse and sharp.

“Why, yes, of course” answered Barnes, with a few stutters prior.

The Royal Assistant led the Heir to the Royal Throne through the hallways of the Palace until he reached the study, where the Queen, his mother, was currently working in one of Holygrove’s many drawing rooms.

With a quick stand, the Queen stated, “Alexander! It’s been too long, it has.”

“Yes, Mother,” said the Prince, who greeted his mother properly with a steady bow from the neck, “it has been quite some time.”

A attendant in the room pours a cup of tea for the Prince, who takes a seat across from the Sovereign.

 I’d say about a few months or so, yet I believe that the Royal duties of the Heir to the Throne would suffice of being the reason of our absence from each other.”

“Of course, of course. Your responsibilities are far greater than those of your siblings, and also are more imperative, as they will teach you how to become a proper monarch.”

“Yes, they will. So all is well?” Alexander quipped.

The Queen dashes a familiar, mothering look, and then said, “Yes, all is fine here.”

There was a silence after that. The Prince’s face smirked of hesitance, and the Queen could clearly see it, and pondered at its presence. The Prince instead sat on one of the chairs in the study and gently clasped his hands together in the proper manner. With that, Her Majesty sat at the desk and continued the final revisions. At last, after she sat, the Prince finally gained the courage to speak.

The Prince gulped, and with his voice faintly cracking, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I arrived so early. To be honest, I chose to arrive earlier than the others would.”

“And by ‘the others’, I’m sure you truly meant Jacob?” said the Queen, sure of her response.

“Why, yes. Jacob, my son, your youngest grandson, and third in line to the Royal Throne. And from the lack of television cameras or photographers outside, I’m assuming he hasn’t arrived yet?” The sarcasm was evident with this Royal father, speaking of his son, a media deity and target.

“Why, no, not yet,” said the Queen, equally sarcastic in her voice as well.

 

            HRH Prince Jacob of Wales is the younger of two boys of Prince Alexander, and his lineage to the Heir of the Throne has him at third in the Line of Succession. He was the Queen’s grandson, and his looks, as well as his persona caused for much public and media attraction, and at times scrutiny. Though the likelihood of Prince Jacob becoming King was very small, in order to do that, he would have to survive the reigns of his father and his older brother, HRH Prince Andrew of Wales, yet his public appeal was unprecedented, yet at times his behavior was despised by his family.

 

            Nevertheless, Prince Jacob was a member of the family, and was treated as such. The Queen and Prince Alexander continued their conversation; the opinions clear in their speech. As they talked, their solidarity in their perspectives of Prince Jacob’s celebrity status was prevalent.  The speeches of the elder Royals ceased, however, when Prince Andrew arrived in the room.

            His Royal Highness Prince Andrew of Wales was Prince Jacob’s elder brother, and the two were very close. The straight-laced future heir to the throne was very in tune to his brother’s sense of fun and freedom, as he would never have to endure the responsibility of the Crown, and often defended his brother’s behavior and conduct.

“Father, grand mum” the Prince greeted his elders.

“Andrew, how are you, darling”, the Queen uttered in clear delight, as Andrew walked across the room to greet his grandmother in the customary fashion.

Prince Andrew swiftly pours himself tea as he takes a seat next to his father and across his grandmother.

“I believe that today will call for a very pleasant party,” stated Andrew cheerfully.

“As do I,” his father chimed in with delight.

The young prince sat with his elders.

“You know, I was talking to a man in crowd the other day during some of my military training and above all else he couldn’t stop talking about what the monarchy meant to him. It really makes this all seem worth while.”

“So before, did it seem like a waste of time?” Prince Alexander joked.

“No, father”, Prince Andrew chuckled, “However now, I think I see what the monarchy truly does to the morals of this country”.

“I see that the Crown will rest safely on your shoulders, Andrew,” the Queen stated.

“Thank you, grand mum,” Andrew concluded as he placed his finished cup of tea on the coffee table. He rose to leave.

“I’m sure everything will go exactly as planned today; it’ll be great. I’ll be off now.”

The second in line to the throne proceeds to exit, but stops at the door.

“Has Jacob arrived yet? I’d like to practice some polo with him before the game today.”

“I suppose you would know where he was more than we would,” the Queen stated sharply.

“I haven’t the slightest clue. Father, do you know?”

“No, I have not,” stated the Crown Prince.

“Predictable, I suppose. Your brother does have a reputation for such behavior.”

The Prince was very willing to defend his brother, as he often does, but didn’t. He was wise enough to know not to argue not only with the Queen, the Sovereign, but his grandmother. Instead, he said his good-byes and went off his way.

Prince Andrew was very popular not only amongst the public, but with many of the palace workers and government official as well. To them, the Prince represented the new monarchy, with his younger, looser approach to certain aspects of duty. His blend of dedication to duty as well as ability to modernize had many very optimistic as his future as King. This unique method of duty was evident on the day, as the Prince spoke with many of the staffers of the Garden Party, giving his input and sharing his suggestions when needed. Soon after, other members of the family arrived.

Prince Benjamin, the Duke of York, Andrew’s uncle, arrived first, with his children, Their Royal Highnesses Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret, and Prince Robert. The Duchess of York completed the set of the family. Another one of Prince Andrew’s strong suits is his indomitable ability to socialize. Within minutes of greeting his cousins, a polo game was already in the works, between the two young princesses and the Princes Andrew and Jacob; even if he hadn’t arrived yet. Prince Andrew soon became a bit concerned; he had enough faith in his brother to believe that he wouldn’t arrive late, and he did know that he had a Royal engagement earlier today, but feared for the worst, as he usually did. The Prince had no more to fear, however, as His Royal Highness Prince Jacob arrived.

Prince Jacob had no flashy entrance, as he knew such a thing would be frowned upon. In fact, his arrival was less ostentatious than many of the other members of the family earlier. His exit from the car, and subsequent entrance to the palace, however, was conducted much differently than all previous Royals, as it was a very rushed ordeal; both the Prince and the guards knew that absolute media frenzy would ensue should a photographer spot the popular Prince. When Prince Jacob arrived at the Palace, there was a different aura than that of his brother. With Prince Jacob, it almost felt as if one was in the presence of a celebrity instead of royalty. There have been many occasions when one forgot to greet Prince Jacob with the customary bow upon meeting him. However, as a member of the Royal Family, he was treated with the respect due.

The Prince was lead through the halls by Palace guards, in the search for his older brother. He and his brother’s close relationship was highly evident at social events, as one could often see the two sticking together. After a while, the Prince spotted Andrew outside, with their cousins and greeted him with a hug, a break in formality.

“The traffic was dreadful today,” the Prince said, excusing his nearby tardiness.

“So, are we in accordance?”

Chief Inquisitorial Detective Marrows stood before a line of firemen, all solemnly standing with their arms folded in a way that could easily insinuate anger, distrust, or protest.

“Lieutenant Michaels, I require an answer, “ Detective Marrows stated impatiently. “Now.”

A rather gruff man stepped forward and uneasily glanced around the firehouse for a moment, his pupils constricted as he saw the police squad standing just outside.

“I’m afraid I can’t make that decision without a captain present,” he responded nervously.

“Well, Unfortunately, your captain is dead,” Marrows sneered. “but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

The whole team of firemen shifted posture as the obvious tension in the room rose to the tipping point.

“I don’t appreciate your tone,” Michaels responded. “Chief Detective.”

“Frankly, that doesn’t matter to me.” Marrows stated bluntly. “What matters to me, is the assurance that your squad will report the fire that burned down the CAGT building as an accident.”

“But there is obvious evidence that the fire was ignited by an arsonist,” Michaels said. “you wouldn’t need to be an expert to see that.”

Lieutenant Michaels looked at Detective Marrows with an apprehensive stare. They both knew it wasn’t an accident that a whole team of prominent CAGT protesters perished in the fire. A whole team including the Lieutenant’s mentor, Captain Nichols.

“I don’t care if God himself came down and told the whole city that the fire wasn’t an accident,” Marrows stated impatiently. “it is required that your team reports the fire as such. This is a matter of national security.”

Michaels sneered. “So, protecting national security to you is murdering civilians in order to keep your party members in office?”

The firemen standing behind the lieutenant exchanged glances of discomfort.

Marrows Paused before answering.

“I suggest you watch your tongue, Michaels.” he said. “I would hate to have to dispatch a team of Collectors to retrieve you and your family for processing”

The Chief Detective’s threat resonated throughout the whole firehouse. The line of firemen shifted angrily.

“How dare you threaten my family!” Lieutenant Michaels shouted. “You have no right!”

“Actually,” Marrows responded. “I do.”

A fire ignited in the Lieutenant’s eyes. He lunged for the Chief Detective, his face distorted in anger. A single fat vein protruded from his neck. Alas, his attack was too slow for the detective, who produced a handgun within milliseconds. The previously quiet firehouse echoed with the discharge of Marrow’s retaliation. Blood splattered every surface in front of the detective as Michaels’ corpse fell to the ground with a pathetic thud.

The remaining firemen were scattered across the firehouse floor, streaks of crimson blood stained their yellow uniforms. Before they could regain their composures and attempt to retaliate, squads of police officers and Collectors stormed the firehouse, disarming and retaining all the firemen. They were marched outside and thrown against the steel door of the firehouse. One by one they turned to face their captors, squinting from the intense sunlight.

“Well,” Detective Marrows started. "What are you waiting for? Death by firing squad effective immediately."

The detective disappeared amongst his government personnel. Shortly after, a crescendo of bullets resonated throughout the empty streets surrounding the firehouse.

Alex let go of everything that had once held him back and let his hands fly. Smack! In an instance one was down and his mind went racing. He couldn’t believe he had killed the um well he didn’t know what it was. His mind raced to find an answer it wasn’t a human not anymore; at some point it had pushed past the ability to be called human. It was now a, a… just then another body raced towards him anger and rage in its eyes. Alex squeak in the pure fear and confusion that had took hold of him. He yanked the ax free of the head of his last victim tears ran down its face as he swung it again. It was only 13 he had once called his neighbor, his friend, Tom. But it wasn’t Tom anymore now it was just another freak like all the other freaks he had seen since he had open his eyes this morning. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t tom but every thing inside him burn with the desire to take back the blow that had stopped the boys charge. Alex was 14 the biggest worry he had before this was whether he’d pass algebra this quarter or not. He heard a screech from the house next store his heart raced as he glanced at the clock on the wall, 3:30. It was 3:30 eight hours ago his day had started with his mother standing in the door, not to say good morning but to rip his neck off. He knew that the house next store did not hold his family the people that he loved but a load of the freaks that had 4 ago had tried to end his life. Another scream shattered the thought.

            Alex ran outside and found the source of the screaming. Two girls were cornered by a load of the freaks. Everything inside of him told him to run to leave them and run for his own life. But the thought of this new world scared him more then the freaks on that lawn. Alex did not know what lay beyond this block. Whether there were more or if everyone else didn’t know what was happening. Either way he knew he couldn’t leave these girls these, people. Alex saw a boy running by, Mark Coleman a juniors at his school. “Mark stop!” Alex was able to pull the words from his gut. “Grab that bat! Help me.” Alex chocked as he took off in a sprint towards the girls. He had no way of knowing if the boy followed but he did know he would be able to take on the freaks alone. There were three of them once full grown men. As he grew near the junior joined his side looking almost as scared as Alex did.

            “What’s the plan kid?” Mark shocked Alex the human interaction seemed wrong to him after the day that had. The only people that had try to interact with him today try to bite his neck off. “Well I was, um.” Alex dug threw his mind for an answer. “Oh come on kid you have to have to plan you didn’t just call me over to die with you.” Pure panic now leaked from Mark but he nee lost his cool tone. “Yea, I do.” Alex stuttered, Marks words had sparked something in Alex’s brain an answer. Pictures of old video games Alex play ran threw his mind, it was crazy but it just might work. “Go to the right of the freaks ill take the left, you take the heads I’ll take the legs.” “Freaks? I like that, by the way kid what’s yours name, you know just in case it doesn’t’…” “Its Alex and it’ll work.” They swung Mark distracted them so they never saw Alex coming as he took out their legs. The boys took up their weapons and started bashing into the creature that lay on the ground. For a moment the boys were animals drool slid from Alex’s lip veins popped out of Mark’s head. For a moment the two boys had completely left their old sense of reality and entered the new world where they were united not just a freshman nobody and junior sports star that that walk the same hallways, but as teammates, survivors.

            The boys were snapped back by the sudden hugs they received by the girls shaken to the core by the terror of a day they have had. The four took up shelter in a shed trying to avoid the sight of the freaks who chased people down the streets ripping at their skin. Once in the shed they all proceeded to share the events of their morning the girls who Alex learned were seniors from the all girl catholic high school two blocks from his. They were on their track teen and were on their morning run when shit went to hell. Half of the team turned into a swarm of freaks every one left on their team torn apart fell but then got up again and joined in on the madness. They were chasing them, they ran for almost an hour before the whole team broke off and took shelter in Alex’s house probably very shortly after he had abandoned it. But then those freaks them and they lost all strength to run. They had only been able to get outside before they were cornered. They thought it was end. Their names were Jamie and Kara typical names in their boring suburban area. Before today they were probably typical seniors addicted to their go-jo-pro juice and always up for brain links. As mark was sharing his life as a jockey junior who everyone loved even though Alex couldn’t figure out why he thought about what he would say when they got to him. He was just a lame freshman. He wasn’t allowed to drink go-jo-pro because his mom thought is poison even though she had like five a day. He had never ran like the girls or played football like mark. He never linked in to someone’s brain either he just played video games all day and watched TV. The coolest thing he had ever drinking was a sip of wine at a wedding. He was a nobody. Mark finished up the tale of his day one of heart breaking loss with the same cool look he always wears then looked towards Alex. What was Alex gonna say he woke up that morning expecting hugs from mommy and instead almost had his neck torn off. He proceeded to push her off run next store where he was almost murdered. He the killed Mr and Mrs jackson then Tom. He’d found the girls and now he was here in a shed trying to explain himself. He had to make up a better story.

“I was drinking my daily go-jo-pro and I then…” Alex was interrupted Jamie. “ Ew you drink that crap its nasty I never would it’s nasty almost everyone on our team drank it before every run expect me and Jamie that stuff man….” Mark jumped into the end of Kara’s sentence including something about how it would mess up his prefect body or cause cancer or something. Alex didn’t really know he was lost in his own head to confused about what just happened to move forward with marks lecture. He had lied to sound cool but ended up just sound even dumber then he already felt. But under the embarrassment Alex start pasting together facts in his head one his mom drank go-jo-pro every morning before she went to wake him up, the girls who turned drank it before they ran, and tom drank  it all the time cause he thought it made him cooler. This thought only past over his mine for a moment before BANG! A loud nice came from behind the shed followed by screams. The teens dropped to the floor Jamie starting crying. “Shhh” Alex hissed after the first whimper. He edged over to his ax as the sound of footprint made its way closer to the shed. Alex grabbed an ax as a shriek marked the presences of freaks outside. The shriek shock all the teens to the core except Alex whose eyes glowed with determination. He wasn’t going to die inside this shed he wouldn’t let it happen. His thin wall had already been shattered autopilot was off now and he was in charge he rolled towards the door ax in hand. The door slammed open a swarm of zombies looked Alex in the eye he did not blink he raised his ax…. THE END

​

Prologue

Knowing that if the Sierrian government had discovered this, Wayman stowed it in his quarters and hoped he could save it for a possible rebellion when ever someone had the courage to start one. Until recently, they stayed hidden while Wayman did his job.
His job wasn't much worse than the plans under his floor. 
But something happened. Somehow the Sierrians had discovered the plans, and had killed him lab partner to punish Wayman. 
Since then, he's been ordered to test the new weapon on humans. With the plans, his father left him front row tickets to ten funerals. 
He looked at his new young "partner".
What's your name, boy?
The young boy looked back at Wayman, and in his eyes Wayman saw his entire life in the labor fields. "Khai, sir. Just Khai."

Jordan Hairston

December 4, 2012

English Benchmark

  Reading multiple novels written by literature majors has advanced my language. If I were to say that I have been practicing this language for three years, in a lot of cases, certain cases it shows. I choose the time and place to use the intelligence I’ve come across. In places were I am known and comfortable I speak the way that I have always spoken. That’s with slurs, slangs, unnecessary sounds or silence. An over heard dinner conversation with my family would be a good example of my comfort language.

 

“Yo Jay, I’m feelin’ your sneakers though.”

“Right, these got me lookin’ fresh.”

“I need to snatch a pair for me.”

“I know that’s right for real.”

 

Having two ways of speaking is an advantage in the world I live in. Being who I am requires an explanation every now and then. In a world of confusion and judgment I have the chance to choose the time and place to switch between the two. When I’m in the state of mind where I am able to find the right words to say what I know is right, I find power in those words.

 

I understand the meaning behind the words of James Baldwin when he wrote, “You have confessed your parents, your youth, your school, your salary, your self-esteem, and at last your future.” In “If Black English Isn’t A Language, Then What Is It?”  Language represents power and is significant to have a higher level that represents my intelligence. It’s best for me to use my advanced language in a professional environment. However, if I were revealing who I am and who I am going to be, wouldn’t it be smarter to use the powerful language at all times? If my writings are ever read I get out of it the questions and comments on my how I chose to portray my experiences.

 

“I have found that putting a time limit on something important-like writing a song- further delays the significance from fully being finished. The right way.”

 

“You don’t have to justify everything you do.”

 

“But if I don’t I know that my point won’t get across without the right speech.”

 

“ Either way we understand what your saying. We also speak English.”

 

I don’t know if differing the language is right because it is the same language. The proper thing to say is differing the way the language is spoken and who it is spoken by. The question of what is the right to speak is asked. The proper way most will agree.

 

But what happens if I bring the two together in one place? Will it force me to lose power and fall behind? I think that I will just gain power and move forward in this world. For personality and the courage to do so. I wouldn’t want to look back in life and say what Richard Rodriguez said in “Hunger of Memory”. “In adulthood, I am embarrassed by childhood fears.” Fearing that an element such as language will bring my power down because mispronunciations and miscommunication. Language gains power depending on how well it is portrayed. Literature majors will continue to gain power because they are able to maintain communication through language.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 34. I’m already starting to notice the changes in my self and others. We can’t believe this is happening. We have wings. It’s like we’re angels. But angels know where they came from and who they are. I can’t remember anything after escaping the school and people in white cloaks. I see my little sister Angel playing with Harmony. They are so young and naïve. They just are as confused as we are. Red is getting firewood for the night. He is so strong and is there for us even though we barely know him. The only person I know is my sister. Red and Harmony we found while trying to escape the school. Are there others out there like us? Are they different? Why did they want to experiment on kids? Those questions won’t be answered any time soon. Maybe when we do find them, than they can become apart of our family. Or flock.

Melody’s’ eyes started to flutter as she fell asleep. The next morning the shine was shining brightly over the ocean. She stretched and tried to feel for her sister that always slept with her, even when they were younger. Once she didn’t feel her sisters’ body she jolted up. No one was there. Not Red nor Harmony, not even Angel. The only thing next to her was a note. It said:

I have you sister and the rest of your friends too. If you know what’s good for you and them, you better come home now. Your decision between whether they die or not. Your choice.

With anger, she screamed at the top of her lungs as her wings came out of her back. Slow and steady and white as snowflakes, they picked her up from the ground and she flew back to the school.

Finally she got there within the hour. She realized that they were closer than she thought. But when you’re trying to run, or rather fly, home is always closer than you think. This isn’t home to her. This is prison, where they prick needles in her skin and watch her like a lab rat.

“Melody!”

            She heard a scream. It sounded like Angel. She started running as fast as she can, into a battle scene room. Big as a gymnasium with padding, almost like a training center. Suddenly, three men in white cloaks grabbed her. They help her hands behind her back and she had no have of escaping without hurting herself.

 “No! Let go of me! Where is Angel? Angel! Harmony! Red!" she started.

 “Angel!” she cried out as she saw her little sister being held at gunpoint by a man in all black. She noticed it said FBI on his badge, was he a detective.

Scared and afraid, her wings glided open as white as pigment but smooth as the wind. Her wings flutter, babies eyes when they start to first open. She stares down her enemy showing that she is not afraid.

"Let her go!” she demanded.

"Now why would I do that? She is too precious and we might use her for more experiments and possibly other things. " he replied while a sinister grin spread across his face. “Try to fight them than I’ll kill her just liked I killed your friends.” He says as he points across the room.

She swayed her head to the other side of the room and sees Harmony and Reds’ lifeless body lying on the floor. Blood is oozing out from the gunshots that are placed in their heads. Red’s eyes stare blankly at her almost have if they’re saying why did you have him kill me? She quickly turned away and repeated with anger “Let her go!”

The sinister grin was still on his face and his lips slowly said, “Come. Get. Her.”

Her wings started to swing and sweep in more wind with every push. The look in her eyes was pain and anger that could pierce through any soul. She dove in the crowd of people with white cloaks. Fast moving bullets shot out of the guns trying to shoot her down. But she was determined. Fast and quick she glided over the enemies trying to safely get Angel. But she wasn’t quick enough; the FBI agent pointed his gun in the air and shot her point blank in the stomach. As if in slow motion, she fell to the ground.

“Melody!” her sister screamed and she ran to her sister’s side.

            As soon as she got to her sister’s side, the FBI agent shot Angel right in her chest. Her sister watched and screamed out in pain as her sister collapsed to the ground. Melody reached out for her dying sister and pulled her close.

“It hurts.” Angel started to whimper.

“I know it does.” Melody replied. “Just relax and the pain will go away.” She said with tears slowly going down her face. “I love you Angel so much. Now we can be together forever in peace.”

“I love you too.” As she said those four words, Angels’ body went lifeless as her eyes started to close.

            The FBI agent looked into Melody’s eyes and she thought This is it. All this and I was going to get killed anyway. I’m sorry Angel I couldn’t save you. He shot her in the head. Once her head dropped to the floor in defeat, he turned around to look at the men in cloak and said, “Next time try using younger kids. They don’t talk back as much and they cooperate. If another experiment tries to escape or leave the school…Get. Rid. Of. Them. By any costs. There is no contemplating. We invested to much money into this avian project. Now clean this up and get back to work.” He looked back at the work that he has done. As he walked away he thought It would be cool to have wings.

​

Note to Reader:            

 

As of now if you are reading this it probably means I have been inspired by something that will play an imperative role to the main purpose of this piece. It is Monday, January 2nd, 2012, 1:20 AM. I still have not started my pre-calculus benchmark and I am catching a flight to Philadelphia tonight. It has come to my understanding that I should be very grateful for the age of humanity I was brought up in. Sometimes, it is difficult for me to think of my life as interactions between humans (a.k.a humanity).  I realized at an earlier aged I didn’t ever want to be in the presence of most of my peers. Being a twelve year old saying you do not like people sounds extremely sick in a humane sense. I now understand that Humanity has evolved from what it used to be. At one point I get tired of the microwave society I have fell accustomed to.  I used to think that technology was the evil of all evils but it came to my realization that it is not technology itself, but mankind’s manipulation of technology. We live in an age where we are holding our planet hostage, and waging war among each other in every aspect using the Earth’s womb as a battlefield. As a human being, it is my understanding that my life is no different from anyone else’s. We are all apart of a global/cosmic consciousness. But right now we are not willing to channel humanity’s greatness for the greater good of humanity. I do not want to ramble, but I like to think of Earth right now as a radioactive barren wasteland, once home to a great kingdom. In closing it is up to myself, you, as well as the rest of humanity to restore that great kingdom to its once awesome existence.

 

To Mother

Sagan

Asimov,

Ad Astra.

 

           

Chapter 1

“Heima’s Dream”

 

Babu

We had skies that allowed the veins of our bodies to run free, opposed to the sky that suffocates us now like a plastic bag over our heads. Our ground was covered in the nerve endings of Terra Madre and as we marched with our companions she responded in a plentiful abundance of life.

 

Heima

What happened as of now? Why must we live in such an isolated dessert? Was the entire world like this?

 

Babu

Why of course not my young darling. There were cities of Gold, Platinum, and Silver. Mega metropolises that ruled the highest points of the sky acting as receptors to the beams of sun and moonlight.  But we must not speak of the past anymore.

Heima

But why not Babu? I dream of a time where I could see birds flying, the beast racing along the stone, the days of night, when man became alive. I’d give anything to see the things that you saw, to breathe the air you breathed…

 

Babu

You mustn’t talk about such silly dreams. You will never see nor want to see the things that I witnessed. At the time of my existence, life may have seemed well, but I and everyone around me were only contributing to the downfall of mankind.

 

Heima

But Babu I want to know of the marvelous things man could achieve. It could have only been better back then… Some say that the end of the world is upon us, but I think we are living in the end of the world. Life doesn’t seem natural. I only know of the same blistering sun, and the redundant seas of sand that go on until the edge of the world. What more can be out there? There has to be something more to life.

 

The current year is 2035 and contrary to beliefs, the beginning of the end of humanity has not come because of nuclear welfare. Humanity has been in an unstable period of changes as if a pandemic of death has spread across the world. But not death in the way that most of us would think of it, but death in progression of human thought.

 

Kiume

Oya! Heima, come play some ball with me. We wont have this sun forever.

 

Heima

What may he mean by that? The sun is the object that makes man suffer for human’s mistreatment upon the heavens. At least according to Nabi…

 

Kiume

Heima come over and play ball!

 

Heima

You must be patient little boy. I am too old to be playing ball with you. Don’t you have anything better to do in life?

 

Kiume

Better? Life? Ball is my life. Now please play.

 

Heima

All right little boy… But we must not be late for supper, shall Mamai notice we will be in trouble. How can he only have ball, as is life? Do we, the misfortunate descendants of human beings have nothing but finite things such as ball to live for?

 

The new place of Earth is now called Terra Madre by its inhabitants and by the heretics Jangwa. Many have came to believe that the Earth is now a desolate planet nowhere near the possibility of being apart of the galactic consciousness called the milky way. Not many humans no anything of the realm outside of the planet. Life’s everlasting redundancy has taken a toll on humanity. Because of the early humans of the 21^st century pursuit in warfare, the infighting was taken to a cosmic level. The sun is always in the sky, and the oceans have turned to sand. And just for the reader of this journal to know, Jangwa is not referring to the physical state of the world…

-

            Nabi                

 

 

https://dl-web.dropbox.com/get/Public/Spanish%20Interview.m4v?w=a26848f5

October 13^th, 2434

He lies there. Blood gripping the outline of his body, bold red.

His eyes.

Both eyes open.

His left eye had rotated to the left. About 1.5 centimeters.  His right eye rotated up by 1 centimeter, and to the right about 1. His brain lies 2 feet away from his skull.

Still functioning.

His brain sends waves through the eyes of the body. The brain begins to search back through the memory cells to recall the events. In fatigue, it goes straight to day 1, when the brain developed.

 

October 13^th, 2433

 

            Jonathon awakes in his bedroom perfectly dosed with sleep and energy for the day. He pushes on the glass box surrounding his bed. The top opens at first touch but Jonathon was in a hurry. He was in a hurry to go to Enhancement Facility. He wanted to be on time to be able to receive his award. He stands on the Transportation Apparatus and selects turbo. Jonathon had no time to waste. As he stepped off the TA he caught a glimpse of himself. Jonathon wouldn’t waste time on anything except for one. And that was himself. He examines himself in the mirror and gives a quick wink. Jonathon is very conceited and has the truth to back it up. “Oh hey Kayla. Yea yea I know its big. I won it just for you”. He says in confidence. He then looks down and thinks of what can go wrong. He can either win the 32^nd grade science fair trophy and get the girl, or loose the fair to his nemesis Kevin Muleon. He then shakes off the thoughts reassuring himself that his project will definitely win for he has been studying all year and the neurologic vitamin tablets were a key to his success. He then preceded two steps forward and 5 steps to the right. The halls were narrow and short. He approaches a clear cylinder about 10 feet in height and can fit 2 average people in width. He dials the machine to “light breakfast “ and enters the cylinder. He steps out and gathers his belongings for the Fair and flees out the door.

            As he stepped on the TA he began to feel light headed. His vision came to a blur. His blood pressure was on the rise. His heart racing.

 

December 30^th, 2433

            Jonathon’s parents came to visit him at the hospital. His mother. Short and pudgy. Her complexion so pale as the white cows Jonathon learned about in Enhancement Facility in grade one. Since that day Jonathon called his mother “moo-ma”. But today. Her cheeks were a soft yellow. Her eyes low and sweat covered her face.

“Jonathon is diagnosed with bran cancer…we are not sure exactly…Creutzfedlt… no cure…sorry for your loss…” The voice of the doctor played throughout her mind as she slowly left the hospital. There was no hope for her son. His disease is found one in every million persons and there is no cure. The protein in the brain mixed with unwanted prions causing his brain to slowly deteriorate. One cell killing 10 every minute.

 

 

January 1^st, 2434

            Jonathon has entered a coma.

 

January 2^nd, 2434

            Jonathon awakes from his coma. His eyes have changed from a brown to a light hazel. The diagnostics made by the doctor turned out to be wrong. Actually, it was a complete opposite. Jonathon’s brain cells were actually developing and reconstructing themselves. He develops brain cells 10 times faster than an average human. He bursts out of the wires hooked onto his body. As he arose from the bed his face showed no expression. The veins on his temples were pulsating. His body moving but not with his intention. His mind has taken complete control of the body. With one glance Jonathon changes the walls in the room to dust. His body then moves towards the control center of the city.

 

As he levitated across the city windows shattered, buildings were collapsing and the ground shook. The frequencies sent from the brain have taken an inhumane toll. As he approached the control center his eyes changed from hazel to clear. The brain was attempting to reach the city’s control tower. The tower was capable of communicating on a global level. Once the tower was under the brains possession he can control the world. The amount of destruction the brain caused left no chance for any army to stop him. Within minutes the brain used the tower to gain complete control of all humans in the world.

 

February 3^rd, 2434

            It has been one month. The brain is commanding the world and reconstructing the environment, creating monuments devoted to Jonathon.

 

October 13^th, 2434

            Jonathon’s brain continues to develop. In size and in strength. Jonathon’s brain is growing by the minute. Jonathon’s skull was not. The brain soon began to push against the top of the skull. As the pressure increased Jonathon began to feel pain. Every bone, every nerve, and every muscle in his body felt as though electrocuted simultaneously. The top of his head began to tear starting from the back of the neck to his far head. Jonathon falls to the ground and his brain rolls out of his skull. The brain has exactly 24 hours to stay functioning. With no legs or arms there was no possibility for the brain to find an alternative body. 

Maleena Mel

Benchmark/ Gold Stream

My life as a Cambodian

 

"Omg look at that Chinese girl hair. That shit long."

"Thank You, I Said"

"The lady have to hurry up with my food mane, she is taking for ever…. Ayo Chinese girl can you

Speak Chinese and tell them to hurry up with my food because they taken forever."

"Not to be disrespectful but I aint Chinese… So can you get my race right because its annoying me."

"What?"

"You herd what I said"

"Oh This Chinese girl really tough… She sounds a little black…."

"You mix wit black, Because You sound like it"

"Look listen, I aint Chinese, nor black, I am Cambodian."

 

The girl looked at me really hard, and she looked really mad. So I asked her what was she looking at and is she "okay? What is a Cambodian?" I didn't explain to her what Cambodian was, so I just kept it as that and I just left and walked out of the Chinese store. Later on that day when I was walking to my cousin house my grandmother had called me. My grandmother dosen’t understand English. Really so I was speaking to her…

 

"Hello?"

"Gah Lena, Tewh Nah?" (Where are you going?)

"Yom Tewh Tih Monica" (Im going to Monica house)

"Tewh Twuh aye?"(Why are you going there?)

"Yom Ock Sop" (Im bored)

"Okay, Mow Tieh Mouwng tuwp" (Okay come home at 10:00 o'clock)

"Okay"

 

A little girl had asked me was that Chinese I was speaking. And I told her no. She said why were you talking so fast? I told her to go home because didn't your mom ever tell you not to talk to strangers? She said okay Chinese lady.

 

When I got to my cousins house she had a friend over and she was Puerto Rican, and when I was talking to my cousin mom her friend said were you speaking Chinese, I told her your like the 3000^th person who asked me that. Than she said are you? I responded back no, do I sound or look like I'm Chinese. And she had the nerves to say yes. I told her where was she at, and she said Monica’s house. So I asked her what was her race? She responded back Cambodian. Than I asked her this is a Cambodian home right? And she said yea. So I said now think about the question you just ask me? Than she was like oh? You still sound like your Chinese because you talk just like them, fast and never take a deep breath. I replied back with anger. So I just kept the conversation as that. My cousin tried to not make it as a big deal, but all I see is a woman that was trying to be funny. When she wasn’t. I had told Monica that it was not funny and she tried to be funny, and when it comes to my race, culture, and language I speak. People like her should not just say things out of there mouth like she did because people like me wouldn’t like it. Later that day I ignored her friend all day until finally as soon as I was getting ready to leave she came out of nowhere and apologized to me and told me that she was wrong for doing what she did, she thought it was funny but than it wasn’t because she didn’t know I would of taken it that way. I told her I take things like that seriously and she dosen’t even know me so she shouldn’t just come out of the blue with it. Afterwards I just went home and slept.

 

​Nicholas A. Doroba

English BM – Language Autobiography

1-4-2012

 Weading and Witing is a Hawd Thing!

“Come on just say it.”

“Stop being a baby!”

“I don’t want to.” I said.

 It hurt that they laughed and made fun of me. Instead of helping, they shouted out sentences for me to say. After seeing that my slur was just humoring my family, I couldn’t find the confidence to speak. It tore me down and I felt like there was something wrong with me. I was the only one in my family with a speech impediment.

Whenever I could, I would go to my room and sit on my bed. Sometimes in tears as I practiced words aloud to myself, “wun, wabbit, wace”.

Waking up to go to school every morning was the best. I loved reading out loud; feeling like the instructor was special, until I realized that the class wasn’t reading along and paying attention to the book. They were listening to me stumble over words and repeating myself, laughing at me. I felt alone.

I researched a little bit, and Polish people tend to have trouble with pronouncing their r’s. One can notice my accent anywhere. Everyone always does. They say I sound like Elmer Fudd from the Looney Tunes. I could understand why people would look at me if it were an uncommon thing, however it is a very common ‘language’. “Elmer's speech impediment is so well known that Google allows the user to change the search engine language to Elmer Fudd.” (Wikipedia, Elmer - Speak).

When it came time for second grade, I decided to step up. I hated being mocked and laughed at all the time. I told my parents that all I wanted was to speak normal.

They didn’t really know how to help me, other than to have me practice words with the ‘r’ sound in it. In school, one other kid in my class had an accent problem, too. She went to the speech impediment class twice a week that my school had offered. I told my parents about the class, and they filled out all the paperwork for me to go. On the first day attending, I was a nervous wreck. Thoughts went through my head; I felt like it was the end of the world. To my surprise, we didn’t even practice working on my speech until the 4^th visit there. The teacher wanted me to become comfortable speaking around her, so that she got to know me a little bit. Every night, I would come home and practice the words on the paper she gave me. I would write them over and over again, repeating them aloud to my mom and myself.

“Were you born in New York?” asked my teacher.

“No, why does everyone think that?”

“Well, people from New York tend to have a problem with fully pronouncing their ‘r’ sounds.” she replied.

Actually, I was born and raised in Philadelphia and have lived in the same house my whole life. Never, still to this day, have I visited New York. It confused the hell out of me when I was little why everyone asked if I was from there. Now that I am older, I realize that people often judge a person by their accent, and assume they know where their from.

As I grew older, my accent became more and more unnoticeable. The two major things that impacted my speech impediment were the classes, and also experience. As I became older, I felt as though people stopped paying attention to my accent.

I listen to people when they talk and pick up on their accents. I was listening to my little sister Julianna tell me a story last summer and couldn't’ help but notice that she sounded just like me when I was younger. I sat down with her and told her to repeat some words for me.

“Say Rob.” I said.

“Wob.” She replied.

“Say race.”

“Wace.”

“Say track.”

“Twack.”

Hearing my little sister speak is the cutest thing ever. Now I know that I am not the only one in my family, so there must be some type of gene passed along. I know she will do just fine and will grow out of it. Practicing words over and over will help her strengthen her speech skills. It’s almost like hiding our language history, and changing how we speak to fit in with the ‘modern day, ordinary language!’

Watch this:

As a junior at Science Leadership Academy, me and a few other students were selected to participate in a world-renowned science fair. The winner, would become rich and famous beyond their wildest dreams. And I knew exactly how I was going to win.

The first week of January has just dawned upon us, and I was once again by myself working in my kitchen. Like any other morning, I ordered a cup of coffee from the automatic coffee maker. “Medium extra/extra, on the way!” it replied with a robotic voice, and I began the day's work on the project I was sure would win the science fair. It was an amazing machine that was capable of switching the minds of any two beings into each other's bodies.

     As the coffee maker began pouring my coffee into a styrofoam cup, I was nearing the end of the project’s completion. So I went and got the mouse and and the canary, I had previously bought from the pet store, and prepared the machine for its first testing. Once ready, I gazed at the perplex items spinning and whizzing in front of me, holding the coffee I was too excited to drink, and prepared the switching process. To my relief, the machine whirred and hummed into action, my grin stretching from ear to ear.

     The machine rumbled, and began to glow a vibrant yellow in front of its targets. The bird, though, startled by the sounds, began to flutter around. The bird flew into the air, flinging itself onto the machine. I watched in horror as the laser-like gun swung towards me. And with a terrible trippy whirl of colors, I felt my body fall to the floor and everything go black.

     When I awoke, what I assume to be a few minutes later, I first noticed that I was almost 5 feet shorter. Then to my horror, realized that I also had no arms... nor legs. Then finally it dawned to me, that I was no longer myself... but my automatic coffee maker. Instantly, I knew something horrible happened. But I knew how my object worked, and it could certainly be reversed with the switch of a toggle.

     So instantly I began to set up a rescue plan. I began to teach myself how my new body worked. The boiler, the cream and sugar inserter, the speaker and the pouring spout. Through the device's motion-sensing detector which I could use as an eye, I could see my cell phone sitting on the counter. Aiming carefully, I began shooting packets of sugar at it. Obviously, I like to keep a lot of sugar inside, so I was quite in luck. Yet as more and more bounced pathetically off the phone, I began to feel exhausted.

Soaking the packets in cream before launch proved a smarter idea. A soggy packet of sugar finally knocked my phone to the floor, but it had just occurred to me that I had no way to dial someone for help. I had to wait for one of my parents to come home. Surely this couldn’t last for too long.

After hours of misery and guilt gave no progress, I was left with a terrible regret for the day's events. Determined not to give up hope, I began to pour cups of coffee to maintain my entertainment. I fought not only my own freedom, but also still maintained the thought of also winning the science fair. I soon found my sugar and cream dispenser to be empty, and sank again into a deplorable depression.

     A large bang shocked me from my unaware slumber. Before me, having fixed himself up from the floor, stood my own body. It looked me with a slight happiness. “I have been upgraded.” it announced in a slightly concerning monotone. The kitchen was silent as I struggled to understand the situation. Then it said, “Would you like some coffee?'”

     The idea dawned on me, and I wasted no time in seeing the possibility of this revelation. I told the coffee maker, which was now in control of my body, that I really needed help. It observed me cautiously, then asked if I would like that with extra cream or sugar. Maintaining patience, as difficult as it was at this point, I explained the instruction more detailed. I watched with great anticipation as my body of seventeen jerked its way out of my kitchen. It rounded the corner down the steps, and there was a hopeless crash. It had tripped down the steps. But to my relief, I heard it continue on its way out the door.

     Minutes passed... then hours. I entertained myself shooting expresso packet projectiles at the bird. On the morning of the third day, the day of the science fair, I accepted that the coffee maker had failed in its control of my body, and that help was unfortunately not on its way. Grasped by the despair of one who must solve the puzzle of coffee maker suicide, I accepted the situation, and unfortunately my fate.

     Driven on by an unrelenting hatred towards my creation, I began expelling the entire amount of water in my boiler. As the floor filled with boiling hot water, the first hints of deadly steam flickered in my mechanisms, I began the acceptance of my coffee-suicide as the water would soon be reaching the counter.

Once the plumber had visited and cleaned my kitchen, I was identified as the fault, unplugged and sent away to a repair shop. The owner there, finding nothing to remove but a faulty speech chip, soon put me up for sale. I only know this because, on being reconnected to the power outlet, I found myself in a shiny, open room, which looked very similar to that of the teachers lounge at my school. Missing my electronic voice, I could only listen to the conversation of the teachers, discussing the odd conduct of their participants in the fair. The end of their discussion stopped at his arrival. I gazed at the door in silent misery, as my body stepped vibrantly into the room, displaying its newly designed poster-board. At the top of the list I could only make out, “Medium coffee, extra/extra.”

​Paige Wayman
Water Stream
1/13/12

 Nightfall. The night was dark and timid, like one that is illustrated in the children’s books, when the witch glides across the aphotic sky. It was silent, not a sound was made. It was 4am. I had just came from the scorch ring demons that live below. I am defined as a 12 year old boy; living in Syracuse, New York, with a wealthy mother of two, and a dad who has more affairs than Bill Clinton, but little do they know. I am not what I perceive to be. I full not only the world, but also myself, into pretending to be something far beyond my reach. I lie my way into the human race, I walk amongst them, I praise their flag, I go to school, I eat and breathe in their presence, but is that enough?

They’re not like us. The greatest aspect about the mortal world is that they contain a wondrous gift called, feelings. We don’t feel, emotions are only a state of mind. Where I’m from, feelings are forbidden. The boss of our colony believes feelings are a way of human nature. To eliminate one from feelings, at five years, we remove the hearts from every child. It’s a horrible dark thing to encounter. You can hear the scream and anguish from the child to the highest peak of the venomous forest. The dark clouds hover the world as the scream gets louder, they enjoy the sound of pain and agony, it’s the blood which keeps them alive. I felt the pain of the little girl.  I felt the knife as it drove through her hepatic vein, and the pulmonary artery. I felt the cry, I felt the intrigued sadness, I felt the anger, and the hatred.

Myself. Being me, is not something I want. I’m a monster. I’m the one your parents say to watch out for, I’m the one your friends say never to go out with. I’m the one that can fool the world. I’m the one that can make you drown in your own blood. I’m the one you should never trust. I’m the one you shall never love.

The Moon. After the human form of me caressed my body, I sent out for my bed. The only place where safety is a promise. I crept through the window of my cluttered room. My mortal parents are asleep. I hear their dreams, their thoughts, and their fears relating to their long run down days at the office. I hear my brother, crying, and sweating with terror. I cant read his dreams, his mind is controlled by someone much more powerful than I. Oh, how scared the poor fella must be. The dream is dangerous, its a poison, its a defining characterized image of the world I am embarrassed to say I’m apart of. I decide to leave Tim at his dream if any disturbance, could kill him instantly. So I slipped on my pajamas, and stared at the moon, the moon stared back. Its lucent light gleamed where my heart should be, but wasn’t. The light didn’t hurt. It was soft, and elegant, it touches my body with such grace, and respect. If only nights like this could last forever, no pain, no sorrow, no suffering, only the light, and the noise of nightfall.

It’s Saturday. Tim was already awake. I heard him downstairs talking about the new Forge game coming out today. I also heard the words “no,” and “you already have 36 games you don’t even play with,” and my parents characterizing Tim as “Spoiled.” I began to block out the conversation, and focused on getting dressed. Even though its been two years I’ve been part of this earth world. I am still not used to the need of a “shower.” A shower is defined as water particles falling down from a faucet like object which hovers over a something called a “bath tub,” and while your in the shower, you use a substance known as soap, which is stuff that supposedly makes you smell good.

I dried myself. The feeling of dryness releases the tension on my false coating. As I dressed my body with jeans and a T-shirt I sat there on the edge of my bed, staring at my frame. I can’t help but stare. It’s amazing how I can look like this; so beautiful so innocent, so human, while underneath I look like a sloppy joe.

The Mirror. Mirrors aren’t true, their lies through a 2 inch piece of glass. Mirrors are expected to define our existence, by glancing at the reflection of a person that should be but isn’t. They fool us. We’re not what they want us to be; we’re the exact opposite. I’m not what the mirror sees, I’m much worse.

My home. I live nowhere. The world contains nothing. It’s crowded with emptiness, but filled with the sadness of corrupted souls. The world of Sheferous has no life, no meaning, and no defiance. It’s made of arousing fires, causing the atmospheres to look sluggy and gray, killing everything in its path. Volcanoes erupt, oozing out the deathly substances of lava. The living, do not live hear. The kind and generous do not live here. The love and the caring do not live here. I live here.      

The outer layer of ourselves. We are feared by many, due to our misleading appearance. We are naked, clothes are forbidden. Our ears are angled upright, our fingers are clawed, our skin is pink and wrinkled, like a shaved chi Wawa. I am sent to earth as a spy, my world wants to destroy and conquer. I pretend to be an orphan, in which my parents adopted 10 months ago. I have been going back and forth from Sheferous to earth, feeding my colony the updates, and information about the world that will soon be theirs.

Who am I? Hello my name is Gretty, I am a boy who is 4,000 years old, and I was sent to earth to stalk the lives of billions of people. As a disguise, I wear a body suit, which slowly and painfully transforms me into a human. Who would’ve guessed it?

The Good Life. I walk in unison with my family. Holding hands, side by side, buying ice cream, biking along the river, fishing with my dad, my mother congratulating me on my excellence. Tim and I jumping, rolling, skating, screaming, doodling, watching, laughing, enjoying, going, and never stopping.  This is my world. I live here.

Fading into darkness. As night casted over, I slipped out of bed, getting ready to go to the world that initially runs through my blood. I went out into the night; blackness was showing its true colors. I stood in the middle of the street; I closed my eyes and imagined the fire, the smoke, and the lifeless zone. I opened my eyes when I heard, deaths scream. I was here, but god knows I didn’t want to be. After living hear for so long, this world still gives me the creeps. I shivered and shaked in terror as Henderous (leader of the colony) called my name.  His voice was in full command. You could hear death parting from his lips.

“GRETTY!” Henderous thundered.

“Yes, Sir,” I said, as the words trembled through my mouth.

“GIVE ME THE REPORT OF THE HUMANS!”

I told him about how they have a something called “The holidays” coming up in a month, and within the series of events called the holidays there would be a huge ceremony called “New Years.” I explained to him that new years is a holiday in which earth celebrates a new decade. He then decided, he would strike them on that very date, January 1st. As he spoke of the torturous language of death, I felt my body drop to the floor. I felt my mind spin from one direction, to the other. I felt my knees weaken. I felt my teeth chatter. I felt the thought of, a land so precious, and so well respected, crumble down, and transforming into a world where staying alive is never a promise.

New Years. Chaos erupted. People; Burning, running, gliding, yelling, crying, saving, praying, hoping for an end of the pain, and the sorrows. Buildings; crashing, slamming, jamming, creating a fog of dust. Fire; flaming, boiling, dancing to the sound of ending lives. Henderous; roaring, towering, defeating, smashing, creating a world where death is a sport, not an action. The creatures far and below; biting, fighting, killing kids, mothers, sons, cousins, grandparents, pets, anything living. ME; watching, despairing, hurting, standing, nowhere, nothing, empty, souless, mindless, heartless, this was the end.

        

 

I sat on my bean bag, frustrated. Why couldn’t I be as smart as my father? With his support, I should be on top of the world like him. He always treats me as though I’m his only child. Every time there’s a major crisis, I have to be with him because he doesn’t want anyone but me with him when he’s trying to solve something big. I guess I’m his inspiration. I wish I had someone as an inspiration... I wish I was my dad. Even though he’s old and annoying sometimes, he’s known as the smartest guy in the world. These days there are so many technologies that work with humans that people are getting lazier and lazier, day by day. Like what Dr. Ngawang once said about the technologies in 21st centuries and I quote, “Someday, technologies will take over the world and life as we know it, will be a lot easier.” I have to agree with the quote because it is true that technologies have definitely taken over the world and life is easier but life is too easy that everyone is getting more and more brainless. It sure is simple with bots doing all the works for us and you don’t have to think because everything is done for you. Researches have shown that there has never been this many obese people in the world. Every single household own a chef-la; she cooks all the meals and since she does all the cooking, there’s no need for anyone to be cooking. My dad has been telling me only 1% of whole population in United States has an IQ of 50 or more and they are encouraged to participate in the “----------”. He is the leader of that group because like I said earlier, he was named the “smartest guy in the world”. 

I remember that day... The day my dad was pronounced the smartest guy to be alive. Year 3000, to be exact. Mr. Rondolsky gave a whole speech about my dad and how appreciative he is of him. He started of mentioning my dad and his alien friends from Mars and how he was the one who bonded with the aliens after 5 centuries of the humans thinking aliens are here to destroy our planet. When reality, they were actual nice beings. Even with their vicious, odd looks, dad figured out a way to talk with them through frequencies of sound waves with the little knowledge of physics, he had. Then he started talking about all the popular inventions that my dad had created in his life when he was a young. I could see his envious face even today. I want to see someone, who look up to me. I mean I still have time to shine. I’m only 23 and my dad, well my dad is really old. Now that I’m mentioning his age, he’s turning 76 this weekend! 

I’ve planned a special secret birthday ceremony for him. He has no clue I’m planning it. Even though I feel as though he may have notice my behavior a teensy bit strange for the past few weeks because I have been getting home late at night. Though he never bothered to ask why I was coming so late. Every time I came in, he was in his lab with his machine gears working on a new robot called “Gee”. Gee, on the other hand was specially dedicated for his girlfriend, Gina. Gina was a decent woman for him and i accepted her in the family because she wasn’t dumb like the rest and she reminded me a littlle of my mother. It is such a tragic that every decent women that my dad married, ended up dying. My mom died when I was 13 due to a machine malfunction. The worst part is we couldn’t find her body because she was stuck in the time travelling device. Gina died 2 years ago because of my aunt. My aunt, well she’s a robot. She’s a human robot, meaning she looks completely like a human and has human organs except her brain. Her brain is made out of metal with chips. Her head is abnormally large but she is a beautiful creature. 

“Gavin! Gavin! Wake Up! Are you okay?” my lovely sister blurred in front of my face. 

“Yes..... Yes, I’m awake, Kasia.” I replied with pain in my neck. I had fallen asleep on the bean bag. “How did I end up falling asleep!!” I asked to myself because last time I checked, my sister was watching the television on her bed while I was on the bag, reading. I’ve never fallen asleep reading a book, no matter how boring or annoying it is. 

“You looked really tired when you came in.” Kasia replied with a smile. Then it all came to mind. I was really tired last night with all these preparation for my dad’s birthday party this weekend. Wait, it is 2 am. His birthday will be tomorrow. I forgot the day was already over and new day is about to dawn. I remember I wrote a status up on my “Walls Of Faces”, social networking center saying I was organizing a birthday party for my dad. After only a second later, I ended up with 1 million 203 people giving me suggestions. Almost everyone of them were dumb, someone said “Kiss him for me” and then it became a trend of thousands saying “kiss him for me.” It was annoying as hell because my iRobot started acting weird cause of all the notification I was getting at the same time. To be honest, I was pretty jealous of how popular my dad was and how everyone seem to like him. That’s where all these junk popped up in my head, which made my head throb and fall asleep unconsciously.   

With the help of Myla and Hollis, we finished all the decorations for tomorrow. Myla was one of the house maid that my dad had made for me and Hollis is my homework helper that I purchased at the mall. I got my speech ready and that included... Dun- dah- tah! my first new invention; a robot that can feel emotions. I’ve worked my butts off for this for 2 entire year while I was in college. Aside from that, today went by so quickly, I didn’t even realize I forgot to eat. I was starving! I begged chef la to make me a chicken noodle soup and some salad. I don’t know why but I wanted to be healthy tonight. The dinner was delish as always so i headed to sleep praying for tomorrow to go well. 

“Mr. Gavin! Today is Professor Adonis Forest, bracket my father bracket, birthday.” Myla announced coming with a fresh pair of tan pants and a black tuxedo shirt, near my bed. I realized I have still forgotten to register “Professor Adonis Forest” as my dad on her brain chip instead I put in brackets because I was lazy. 

“Thanks Myla! I got it! Leave the clothes on the table. I’m going to take a shower in a second. Tell chef-la to make me a vanilla bean coffee for me this morning. Oops! and don’t forget to wrap that gift for me!” I said with such anticipation, Myla got right to work. My shower lasted for about 5 minutes and I rushed through out the door with my brand new clothing. 

At the party, my aunt successfully brought my dad to the ceremony without releasing the secret party. When he came in and heard the loud “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”, he almost collapsed. Everyone hushed while he wheezed; that very moment left everyone skipping a heart beat knowing the consequences of him dying. I had a playback of what would actually happen to me and the whole nation if my dad actually died. There would be no one as smart as him and there won’t be any changes to the whole planet even after million of years after his death. There will be only few smart ones and they’ll take over the world instead of helping each other out like my dad. However, he got up and all I hear is a huge sigh of relief from the crowd. Then I got up to the stage and got ready for the speech. 

“I would like to thank everyone for taking the time to come here from all over the world to celebrate my dear father, Adonis Forest’s 76th birthday! I want to thank my two baby robots, Myla & Hollis that has helped me organize this party. Now I would like to share some of my thoughts and wishes for my dad for his upcoming years. When I think of my father, I don’t know how to describe him. He’s the greatest man I will ever know. Now I know that every dad wants to hear their kids say I want to be just like my father and I am going to say it with actual deep feelings because I truly do envy him and when I grow up, I want to be just like you, dad.” I start my speech and I looked up and I can see everyone with an awe spark in their eyes. Then I continue, “ I really can’t imagine anyone as great as you to be my father. I am truly blessed to have you as my dad. You’re the best dad I can ever have.” I look up and I can see my dad tearing up but with a bold face. Then I get ready for the zenith of my speech. “. . . I would like to say that I’m going to be a married man soon.” The whole crowd goes nuts congratulating me starts blowing up champagnes. I skim through the crowd and see my dad in disbelieve as though he’s having some trouble. l reflected, did I just blurted something ridiculous in front of the crowd? instead of saying I’m getting married? The next thing I know, my dad’s on the floor and everyone hushes.