IndigoCypher
May 7th, 2013, 03:28 AM
My little, currently 31,000 word YA fiction project. This is the prologue. (Note: I did not come up with the basis for this plot, a friend of mine on Roleplayer's Guild did and let me write a novel out of it.)
PROLOGUE
It all started with an idea.
Doesn’t everything? Didn’t the Empire State Building, the Titanic, space exploration, the Internet, the Roman Empire, nuclear fusion, and all the wars ever fought start out as an idea? Just an idea, a dream, an interesting thought. That’s all they were.
Now we follow a very interesting idea. An idea pitched by one Leanne Richardson, a pretty, intelligent young woman seven years out of graduate school with a degree in sociology and a diamond ring.
“Ever wondered what would happen if kids ruled the world?” Leanne had loftily asked her husband after the birth of her second rambunctious child Bo, who was playing “kingdom” in the living room, with a pink bath towel tied around his neck and a Burger King crown on his little head. The Richardson’s firstborn Leo, at six, was quietly doodling in his room.
Her husband sneered. “Sure. Would suck.” Bo looked up, alarmed. “Stink. Would stink,” Mr. Richardson, an author, said, correcting himself.
“It would be interesting,” argued Leanne. “Past studies have shown that juveniles actually possess many of the higher thinking and reasoning skills to efficiently run a given society, so long as they—”
Mr. Richardson cut her off, blaring the TV. “Yeah, yeah. You know I don’t understand this science crap, honey. Tell it to your friends over at the genius bar.”
So Leanne did.
It took a while—almost five years—, but support was gathered, lobbyists sent, a federal approval and grant, well, granted, and a city constructed on the outskirts of sparsely inhabited Montana (south of Jordan and north of Forsyth, directly to the southwest of Glendive), in the general layout of London. Only geographically, though. The dark, dank metropolis looked nothing like the iconic English capitol.
The UCE, or Universal Children’s Experiment, was in full swing. Most of the time, with the consent of the guardian, sometimes without, kids were collected from every place imaginable and “relocated” to the UCEC, an imposing, walled, derelict city in central Montana, where they were left to their own devices. No guidance, no help—just a city, some food, clothes, materials, each other, and a big crate of weapons.
PROLOGUE
It all started with an idea.
Doesn’t everything? Didn’t the Empire State Building, the Titanic, space exploration, the Internet, the Roman Empire, nuclear fusion, and all the wars ever fought start out as an idea? Just an idea, a dream, an interesting thought. That’s all they were.
Now we follow a very interesting idea. An idea pitched by one Leanne Richardson, a pretty, intelligent young woman seven years out of graduate school with a degree in sociology and a diamond ring.
“Ever wondered what would happen if kids ruled the world?” Leanne had loftily asked her husband after the birth of her second rambunctious child Bo, who was playing “kingdom” in the living room, with a pink bath towel tied around his neck and a Burger King crown on his little head. The Richardson’s firstborn Leo, at six, was quietly doodling in his room.
Her husband sneered. “Sure. Would suck.” Bo looked up, alarmed. “Stink. Would stink,” Mr. Richardson, an author, said, correcting himself.
“It would be interesting,” argued Leanne. “Past studies have shown that juveniles actually possess many of the higher thinking and reasoning skills to efficiently run a given society, so long as they—”
Mr. Richardson cut her off, blaring the TV. “Yeah, yeah. You know I don’t understand this science crap, honey. Tell it to your friends over at the genius bar.”
So Leanne did.
It took a while—almost five years—, but support was gathered, lobbyists sent, a federal approval and grant, well, granted, and a city constructed on the outskirts of sparsely inhabited Montana (south of Jordan and north of Forsyth, directly to the southwest of Glendive), in the general layout of London. Only geographically, though. The dark, dank metropolis looked nothing like the iconic English capitol.
The UCE, or Universal Children’s Experiment, was in full swing. Most of the time, with the consent of the guardian, sometimes without, kids were collected from every place imaginable and “relocated” to the UCEC, an imposing, walled, derelict city in central Montana, where they were left to their own devices. No guidance, no help—just a city, some food, clothes, materials, each other, and a big crate of weapons.