We Have Heaven (very, very beginning) - Writers Forum

Timeaisis · 02-15-2007, 10:35 AM

Just want to make a note that I just started this like a week ago, and I like the way its turned out so far. Just wanted to get some general feedback and see if it interests anyone. Thanks.

Did some editing after some comments and suggestions. Changed the title finally.

DREAMER EASY
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“But this…is my dream,” he said. “At least…I thought it was.” Jack said, fumbling with his words.

“Yes, yes, Jack. That’s all very true,” Zoe explained. “But couldn’t this very well be one of my dreams as well? I mean, I’m having a pleasant time right now talking to you, silly, explaining this whole dream thing to you and whatnot.”

“Hmmm…well,” Jack wondered. “Wouldn’t that make me part of your dreams?”

“Exactly!” she said and tapped him on the shoulder. “You see, Jack…we’re all dreamers here. All the same like that.”

Jack shook his head. “But I know the difference between reality and fiction. You don’t exist, but I do…out there in the real world.”

“No, no, Jack. You’re seeing things all wrong.”

“I’m sorry…I don’t understand…I’ve had a rough day.”

“Well at least you’re here now, recuperating.” Zoe said.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Jack said, sighing. “I’m happy when I’m with you.”

***

1. Approach

The sidewalk was full of hurried pedestrians. Jack weaved in and out of oncoming traffic, trying to take note of his current location from the street signs. He didn’t travel on foot that often, and was usually lost without the aid of public transportation. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a plain white business card and glanced down at it. He wasn’t very adept at doing two things at once and shortly thereafter bumped into a quick-stepping business man apparently on his way to work. There was no verbal exchange, just an impatient sigh followed by a hateful glare. Jack didn’t like confrontation, and he was somewhat relieved that this man had been conversing on a cellular phone and didn’t have time to scold him on how he should watch where he was walking.

“What the hell am I doing?” Jack mumbled under his breath as he weaved between pedestrians and motor vehicles. He grasped the card harder and looked down at it yet again. “This whole thing—is madness.”

The previous day, Jack had had a strange encounter with one interesting fellow in a bar not far from his current position. Leto’s Bar? Was that it? He couldn’t remember—probably because he was drunk out of his mind. For all he knew he could have found this card under the influence, scribbled some words down, and then dreamt some reward-promising stranger gave it to him saying that this building was the end of his problems. Like some kind of alcoholic-induced hallucination. Jack shook his head. He really didn’t care at this point.

“Might as well start what I finish.” he said aloud. “Er…” He was still a little under the weather from last night—or, more blatantly, hung-over.

He stepped quicker now, the sun casting shadows of huge buildings over the gritty pavement. It was a wonder that the sun shone at all.

The sky was pale with grayish clouds spread around the bright yellow orb. It wasn’t a very brilliant day, but then again, they days weren’t very brilliant anymore. Clouds and smog mixed in the atmosphere, and it was almost impossible to tell one from the other. The day was ominous in a way only the sky can depict it. Unfortunately for Jack, he did not get a chance to glance at the sky that day—he was in too much of a hurry.

Another three blocks down, he finally spotted a towering gray building, sparsely lit and with very few windows. It looked to be built entirely from cement or stone, and stood out like a sore thumb in this steel jungle. Jack glanced down at the card he was still gripping in his hand, scanned it for a brief second, then quickly looked back up and squinted at the engraving on the building. It seemed as though this was Jack’s destination, although he didn’t think the building was all that inviting.

Jack began to feel sick, largely uncomfortable, and considered a couple times of turning around. He felt out of place. He had lived his life in such a way that he felt any and all people and organizations would have absolutely no use for his particularly un-honed skills. He asked himself why it had been him who had been “chosen” for this job, but then reasoned that that identification of what he had been was far too flattering. He attempted to shut off the logical hemisphere of his brain, which did a majority of the work, and tap into his childhood idealism. At this point, ignorance and naivety were Jack Dresden’s best friends.

Jack turned off his brain and walked forward.

In this day and age, if you were stupid and didn’t ask questions, you were better off than those clever ones who had to have “reasons” for things. Jack was, unfortunately enough, too clever. And the world, in response, told him to go fuck himself.

As he approached he began to breathe heavily and then proceeded to clasp his hands to his face in an effort to warm them up. He reached for the door and stood still. The door seemed to suffer from the same imperfection that the building did, made from rusted steel with a large metal handle. He wondered why a building of this size did not use a revolving or double door configuration, but then he realized that this invitation was given to him by a figure who was just as questionable as this building seemed to be. Jack wondered why he had took the man up on his offer and whether or not it would be alright if he just turned around and left.

He stood there for another three minutes. In the cold.

His common sense, however, got the best of him and convinced him that in light of his present financial situation, this “appointment” was not a decision but an obligation—one that apparently promised sound financial security. Pessimism quickly began to tear his common sense down with questions along the lines of why a complete stranger would randomly offer him financial security just by showing up at an appointment on a certain day, but he then determined that he had no other options at this point, and would regret not showing up if he decided against it.

“Stop thinking.” he told himself. “For god’s sake, just walk in.”

So it could be a complete bluff, a total scam. It didn’t matter. Jack was in a slump, in every sense of the word. He needed every chance, every possibility, no matter how unlikely or illogical.

He clasped the cold metal handle, and, taking some of his strength and some backward leaning, slowly opened the door. The room was just as frighteningly bland as the façade was—dimly lit, pale walls, a grimy white-tiled floor (which was not so white anymore) and a single block in the wall which an aged security guard sat watching a small television behind some glass. There were two chairs, and a small coffee table. He turned around and shut the door loudly so the guard might hear his entrance. Nothing.

The card was still held in his left hand and he glanced down at it yet again. Just the address, and penciled in on the bottom was the time—noon. He flipped it over. A single sentence. “Ask for Ian”.

Jack pocketed the card and looked back up at the security guard. He was wearing a dark blue uniform. He had a light brown coat lying on his desk very similar to the one Jack was currently wearing, although the guard’s looked much newer.

Jack wasn’t very good with people. As a matter of fact, Jack wasn’t very good at life itself. He was a pessimist, constantly analyzing the worst case scenario over and over until he convinced himself that nothing good could come out of something and then disbanding the notion altogether. But today, Jack didn’t have time for pessimism. He didn’t have time for worry. He didn’t have time for all this introverted, mind-numbing thought that made Jack who he was. He needed to step up and meet with the rest of civilization. Leave the remote island of his mind and join the rest of society.

He began to walk over to the counter, hoping that the guard would take notice of him and direct him to his appointment, instead of having to approach the guard himself. The officer still stared blankly at the television, facing the opposite direction of Jack, and took no notice of him at all. Jack produced a fake cough to attempt to get his attention. Still no luck.

With a deep breath, he quickened his pace and finally came to the window. Looking in, he rapped on the clear plastic and the guard swiveled in his chair to face him. The guard spoke nothing but raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.

“I’m looking for…” he began quietly. His voice was soft but deep. “I’m looking for Ian.”

Timeaisis · 02-15-2007, 10:37 AM

2. Ascent

The elevator’s outline seemed to appear from the wall, either that or Jack was going insane and hadn’t noticed it up until the security guard pointed towards it. It was the same color as the room, and it quietly slid open, as if on queue, to allow Jack to enter it. Jack walked forward hesitantly, but stopped mid-stride to relay another question to the tacit guardsmen, who only pointed again to the slow-opening door. Jack uneasily stepped in, and the door promptly shut, much quicker than it had opened.

At first, the elevator seemed as bland as the building; it wasn’t glistening metal like one see’s in hotel’s but pale or khaki colored with paint chipping off. There were no buttons in sight, nor was there a floor signaling device. Jack leaned back onto a metal rail against the back wall, closed his eyes, and took a deep, relaxing breath.

“It’ll be ok.” he thought to himself repeatedly. “I’ll do fine.”

The moment he opened his eyes he was startled to see that the once-bland walls were now brilliantly polished metal: so clean that Jack could easily see his own reflection, totally un-blurred. Rubbing his head in disbelief, Jack arose from his slouched position to investigate. He now thought he may very well be going insane.

All the signs of a hangover had gone away, and there was no clear culprit in what seemed to be some kind of hallucination. He shook his head, composed himself, and reasoned that stress was getting the best of him. “It has to be the stress…” he said to himself, his forehead becoming heated in panic.

Slowly, Jack raised one hand out and let it hover right over the shiny surface. He recoiled only once, and then finally touched the wall. It was freezing cold. Disregarding instinct, Jack let his hand rest their awhile, out of sheer curiosity. The surface felt as though it was moving—or at least rippling under the surface of Jack’s hand. He moved his head closer but could not distinguish any visual signs of the wall’s movement—it seemed like a perfectly solid surface. The floor was the same as it had been before: pathetically carpeted in bland, dark burgundy and blue colors and extremely gritty.

Jack finally removed his hand, this time rather quickly, as the cold was getting to him now. The wall seemed to shake, and he jumped back, startled. The brilliant metal seemed to take on an animated gradient, moving and rippling throughout the metallic surface. All of the sudden, a picture appeared, and then more, encompassing the entire wall, and all of its sides. A dessert, it seemed. And then, the metal flashed and yet another picture was displayed. The wall seemed to cycle through them, at what seemed to be an increasing speed.

Throughout this entire experience Jack was somewhat afraid of his life, and halfway into it he wondered if someone had given him some sort of drug before he left his apartment. He couldn’t think, was too mesmerized by the display of pictures.
Jack was so jolted throughout the ride that he couldn’t properly pay attention, but could later recall seeing a huge ziggurat, a garden in the sky, pyramids, Stonehenge, what seemed to be the Colossus of Sardia, a crucifixion, a shuttle launch, and many depictions of war, famine, plague, death, assassination and similar terrible occurrences. The images cycled through rather quickly, so he could only really recall things of familiarity. He did, however, recall the last two images as the large ziggurat piercing a dark sky while fire and brimstone seemed to rain onto it and a view of a space station somewhere in the universe that appeared to be dangerously close to what looked like a black hole.

The elevator abruptly shook to a halt. It was at this point that Jack realized that the elevator had been moving. The wall dimmed and then returned to its brilliant metallic color. It continued to change metallic gradients until finally restoring itself to its original pale.

“What on earth…?” Jack said aloud, just as the wall returned to normal. He composed himself quickly and looked around. Everything was the same as before. At this point, Jack seriously doubted his senses, and came to the conclusion that he was in fact hallucinating, but could not reason what the cause was.

The elevator was still.

Nothing happened for a couple of moments, just long enough to make Jack feel quite uneasy, and then finally the doors began to open in a slow, deliberate manner.

Isonmeh · 02-15-2007, 01:30 PM

I found myself confused throughout most of this story. You should put some more background on Jack. That would help us understand his situation, and know the character. If you're planning on making things more clearer as the story progresses, I suggest you do it soon, because readers will follow along through a dark tunnel with all this mystery. Just out of curiousity, is Jack going to be some kind of test subject? I find that interesting how the story has a kind of matrixy feel. Its very creative, actually.

Serenade · 02-15-2007, 03:26 PM

Yeah, kinda have to agree with Iso. The mood is conveyed perfectly, eerie and mysterious. But while you're writing this, we should get a little more into Jack's head so that we're engrossed in something besides the wierd things happenning in this building. That way, we'll identify with your character more and, hopefully, feel as nervous as he does while visiting the building.

Timeaisis · 02-15-2007, 05:39 PM

Thanks for the comments, I'm trying to clear up who the character actually is in upcoming chapters. I'll try and remember to convey his thoughts more as I write more of this.
Thanks guys.

Timeaisis · 02-15-2007, 08:16 PM

Alright I did some extensive editing on Chapter 1-3. Ch 2 was a little big, so I'm reposting the edited CH3 here now so I don't overload my message box.
I just finished Ch4 as well and if I have some interest after reading this revision I'll post that too.

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3. Conflagration

The room was dimly lit, the walls seemed pale, apparently somewhat of a motif. Jack peeked out through the door, saw nothing, then quickly moved his head back into the elevator, as if frightened or weary.

“Damn it” he said under his breath. There really weren’t any buttons on this elevator. He waited a second to see if it would close and bring him back down to the first floor. Nothing happened for a whole minute.

Jack concluded that he was either unaware of being on a generous amount of drugs, or that this appointment, this building, this whole situation was purposeful. Considering that he didn’t have very many options, he slowly crept out of the elevator and into the eerie room.

As Jack approached the middle of the floor, the lights suddenly flashed on, revealing the room’s layout. Jack’s initial analysis wasn’t very far off: the walls were very pale, and even in the bright fluorescent glow of the ceiling light it still seemed a little dark. Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe this was all some sort of strange, elaborate dream. Smiling, he reminded himself to write it down when he woke up, as if to ease some of his tension.

There was one plain oak table situated in the direct center of the room. Ten steps in front of it was a large projection screen, and next to the elevator entrance was a tightly sealed wooden door: so tight that light neither escaped nor came through the edges.

It was at this point that Jack noticed that the elevator has closed, as if sealing him in this room for an unforeseen amount of time. The door was locked too, quite tightly. But Jack wasn’t all that disappointed, because he had been expecting it.

Jack quickly found and sat at the only seat available to him, furthest from the screen on the large oak table. It was quite comfortable, office-like in quality, and caused Jack to instantly breathe a sigh of relief after taking a seat.

The projection screen turned on rather quickly causing Jack to jump, which ended his relaxed state almost before it began. The screen flickered blue to grey a couple times, then settled on a dark silver color. Jack imagined the circular “3, 2, 1” countdown come on, had himself a quick chuckle, and then recomposed himself in all seriousness.

A static image finally materialized. It was an image of a house, rather large, burning. Maybe even a mansion. It didn’t move, wasn’t animated at all, and made Jack feel somewhat uneasy. But it was just a picture.

At first Jack looked questionably at the picture. He wondered why he was being shown this (at this point he knew it was purposefully), and if there was any significance behind it. But it was just a picture.

He sat and looked at it for a good minute. During this time, nothing happened. Nothing at all. Jack began to feel somewhat sickly. He realized that if it he was watching a video of a house burning it probably would have disturbed him less. This was a house mid-burn. There was no ending to it. It was frozen in time—or rather burned into time itself. Constantly in agony. He might as well be looking at a picture soldier shot and bleeding reaching for the sky as he draws his last breath, he thought to himself.

Three minutes had passed now, and Jack continued to stare at the picture, becoming more and more uneasy by the second. He yearned for something else to happen. Deer, rabbits, cute little doggies, prancing around in a meadow. A six-year old’s birthday party. Anything.

But nothing happened.

Jack began to hallucinate. And this time he knew it. He began to hear eerie music coming from everywhere at once, perceived a strange purple haze engulfing the room, and then began to smell smoke and hear fire. He stood up from the chair and dropped to his knees. He began to crawl and cough of imaginary smoke. He looked back up at the picture, it was still.

Jack was growing quite sick, and he could barely stand looking at the picture for a minute more. He crawled away from the screen, lifted himself off the ground, and put a hand over his mouth as if to cover it from smoke. He looked over to the entrance to the room.

The elevator doors were wide open, and the “down” arrow above the doors was lit up. Directly to the right of the elevator was the large wooden door, now completely open, with some strange blue light coming through. Through the door, there appeared to be stairs. He unfortunately could not figure out where the blue light was coming from. He slowly walked over to the elevator and the door, turning around once to see the horrific image of the huge house burning again. It remained static.

He stood between the two pathways—in doubt.

“I have to get out of here…” he said to himself softly, with a hand over his stomach. “I’ve gotta get away.”

There was something new Jack noticed to the right of the wooden door: a plastic square with the staircase symbol on it, common in large buildings. Under the plain picture the words “In case of fire, use staircase” were inscribed.

Jack looked back at the screen, squinting his eyes and covering his mouth. The terrible image was still there. The fire was still burning—engulfing the house. He turned back to the blue doorway, and quietly stepped through.

Isonmeh · 02-16-2007, 12:57 PM

Beautiful. You filled it with juice. It sounds like good Ray Bradbury kind of style.

Timeaisis · 02-17-2007, 11:13 AM

Thanks for the help, Isonmeh. Glad you like it. I'll be posting Chapter 4 soon.

Timeaisis · 02-19-2007, 09:09 PM

And here's Chapter 4...
Comments would be great. Thanks.

Edited a little. I think its more clearer initally that their watching him now in a different part of the building.
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4. Surveillance

“No relations, no employment, no obligations.” the man said shuffling through files on his desk. The room was small with two office chairs and one rectangular table with a computer and large amount of paperwork. One lamp lit the room.

“A Nobody.” another man replied. He was leaning in the corner, drinking a cup of coffee. “You’ve found him, Steve. And for that I congratulate you.”

Steve was facing the computer. He began typing then quickly looked up at the monitor. It captured Jack Dresden’s every movement.

“I can’t believe I passed him off to the heads, though. It’s so unsettling to think about what will happen to him.” Steve replied.

“Well, you’re benefiting quite well, I’d imagine.” said the other.

“Yes but…” Steve stuttered, trying to find the words. “Is this even legal?”

The man across from him stood up from his lean and walked over to the desk. He bent down towards Steve and looked him in the eye.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said in a soft, deep voice. The man propped himself up and began to walk back to his corner.

“And besides…” he explained, “This organization is under the one who makes the rules.” He paused for a moment. “You know which that is, right?”

“The government?” Steve hesitantly questioned.

“No—the industry.”

The “industry”, as it had been, was the name for the giant conglomerate that had taken stock in most major companies across the world. It used to have formal name but it served no purpose and, much like many of its employees, was discontinued. It controlled most of the scientific research, technological advancement, mass media and entertainment. In effect, it controlled the culture and lives of over a billion people. In effect, it was the government. This is why it didn’t matter.

“Still…” Steve said softly. “Isn’t this...” he stuttered once more.

“Isn’t this what?” the man spoke loudly. “Morally wrong?”

Steve took a little while for a response. He adjusted his glasses nervously.

“I suppose.” he said finally.

The other man shook his head. “There is no need for those anymore.” the man argued. He took another sip of his coffee.“Morals, that is…”

“He’s a perfect candidate, this fellow. You should be proud of your find.”

“We are talking about a human being here, aren’t we?” Steve said sarcastically.

“You of all people should know what this means to all of us. I mean, this…this man is the type of person we’ve been waiting for.” The man said, pointing to the computer screen. “Just look how well he follows orders!”

The screen captured Jack Dresden walking through the stairwell door, then standing still, as if in thought.

“The good thing about this fellow is he doesn’t have any kind of moral conscience.” he explained. “You know, no ethical nonsense to hold him back.”

“But Jess…” Steve began.

“Don’t start now, Steve. There’s nothing you can do now anyway, except knowing that you made the right decision.” he explained.

Steve turned off the monitor and slowly stood up to face Jess. The two men starred at each other for a minute. Steve checked his watch while Jess took another sip of coffee.

“Neither of us know what this is actually for…” Steve whispered.

“Well, anything is better than nothing, you know.” Jess stated. “And in the current state of this country—hell this whole planet, we need some big miracle. You know, the kind they promised.”

Steve was uneasy. He starred down at the floor, listening to Jess’ justification.

“We’re all part of the bigger picture. For the good of all…and such and such.” Jess explained, waving his hands and trying to sound important. Steve sighed, looked up and nodded to his partner.

“You’re right…I shouldn’t be worried.” Steve spoke softly.

“Exactly.” he replied. He walked over to Steve and put his hand on his shoulder as if to say something significant. “Let’s get back to work.”

Steve sat back down in his chair, turned the screen back on, and adjusted his glasses once more before beginning to type. Jess returned to his corner, sipped more of his coffee, and looked on at Steve’s work. The screen showed Jack Dresden standing there in the threshold between the room and the stairwell.

“What are they gonna do to him?” Steve asked.

“Hell if I know.” Jess responded, taking another sip of his coffee. “But they sure ain’t gonna kill him.”

Isonmeh · 02-20-2007, 12:01 PM

What I am beginning to admire is your ability to describe people indirectly, and what I mean by that is you get an idea of a person's character through actions and dialougue. I need that. I am trying to find a real flaw in your work but can't really specify any thing. Maybe if there were more opinions from other people you would get a wider view of what direction the work is going concerning conflict and structure. Maybe I'm blinded by the story's progress, because i am reluctant to find mistakes.

mashowasho · 02-20-2007, 12:52 PM

Quote:

"The bird of Hermes is my name...eating my wings to make me tame."

Either you've been reading the Ripley Scroll, or you're a Hellsing fan, no?

Nice story, by the way. Although the introduction of Steve and co. threw me a little. It's all very mysterious.

Timeaisis · 02-20-2007, 01:08 PM

A little bit of both, Mashowasho. Noticed it in Hellsing then looked into the scrolls. Interesting stuff...

Anyway--
I'm currently trying to figure a way to more easily transition between the scene with Jack and the scene with Steve and Jess in the room monitoring him. Its hard to make clear whats going on right away, because it immediately shifts focus to briefly try to explain more of what's going on. Any suggestions?

mashowasho · 02-20-2007, 01:25 PM

Maybe something simple like, "In a room nearby, in the same building, two people watched as Jack stepped out of the elevator..." or whatever.

Isonmeh · 02-20-2007, 01:29 PM

I don't think a transition is really that necessary. Great books like The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck just jump along all over different scenes. Giving too much transition seems like a a standard story book and sometimes ruins the ominous mystery.

Timeaisis · 02-23-2007, 11:37 AM

Sorry it took so long for this chapter, I had stuff to do.
I edited Chapter 4 a bit and reposted it. I think its clearer with the scene transition.

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5. Breath

Jack Dresden stood in the stairwell with his eyes closed. He breathed in and out slowly, cooling his restless mind. Jack had closed door to the room he had just been, as he could not take the presence of the burning house any longer. After a minute of thought and breathe, Jack opened his eyes, slowly looking around the pale stairwell. It was as bland as everything else in the building, and Jack was beginning to harbor a serious aversion to this simple, ugly color. He noticed a camera positioned in the corner of the wall on his left, but thought nothing of it. Besides this piece of equipment the only things around him were pale walls and faded metallic blue stairs.

“It’s almost over” he said to himself. “Just all the way down these stairs, then out to fresh air.”

His mind tumbled through his experiences in this dreadful building. Why was he here? Who had invited him? What was this place? These were questions that Jack wondered initially—after entering the lobby on the first floor, even after riding the hallucinogenic elevator. But now Jack did not care. He didn’t care why he was here. He didn’t care what he was here for. And he didn’t care what he could gain from it. His sickened state had taken over, ensuring himself that there wouldn’t be any more unnecessary dread.

Jack had never wanted to breathe fresh air more in his entire life.

He took one last deep breath, stood strait up, and started walking forward, down the stairs. About five steps down he reached a platform, and the stairs continued down in the opposite direction, ordinary in most building stairwells. He stepped onto it and slowly turned to face the next set of steps. He took another deep breath.

Standing straight up, Jack put one foot out to reach the next step—one after another, until he reached the next platform down.

He turned towards the next set of steps and his stomach turned with him.

There was nothing there.

Jack swallowed his throat and began to feel sick allover. His face turned red, and his forehead burned with it. He quickly turned around in panic—Nothing. The stairs had ended. It was a dead end. “Elevator!” he said to himself in panic as he turned towards the upward steps.

Jack rushed back up to the door much quicker than he had come down. He hoped for the elevator to still be open. He grasped the handle quickly and pulled on the door, but was met with an opposite force. The door was locked and Jack Dresden began to panic even more.

His forehead beaded with sweat, his face grew redder. His stomach was turning upside down and inside out. He felt like a rat trapped in a maze, but feared there were no curious scientists looking in that could free him when he got himself lost. There was no cheese. Even if there was, it wasn’t worth his sanity.

Jack had never handled bad situations well, and, to make matters worse, he had already convinced himself that this whole building and the people inside it were out to get him.

“What the hell is going on!?” he cried loudly. “What in god’s name is happening!?”

Jack looked towards the ascending stairs. His mind raced with thoughts of panic, until he finally reasoned that he had to go upwards, as it was his only option.

“Maybe…” he said breathing heavily. “Maybe they’ll be a way back down up there.” he said, trying to calm himself down from panic. He began to sprint.

Jack ascended those stairs faster than he ever had in his entire life. He was apprehensive for something—anything—that would help him further. Help him get out of this god-awful place.

Almost completely out of breath, Jack reached a door, almost identical to the one he that had locked itself. He panted loudly as he bent down and put his hands on his knees.

“God I hope…” he said to himself, breathing heavily. He looked up at the door.

After finally catching most of his breath, he slowly moved his right hand on to the handle of the door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tugged at the door. It swung open revealing a dark hallway illuminated only by rectangular fluorescent lights.