1.ENTITYA Chapter by Paris France An introduction to the main character and the world she exists in. This chapter is a two-time contest winner!
Voices. Laughter and screams--distorted by strident interference. They swarm her captive mind, ricocheting off static walls. If her own thoughts plagued her--if she were free to grasp her own intelligence---there would be no space in her core to exist. She simply is--perched on the edge, fearless. Atop the skyscraper, she looms over her potential victims--waiting--the hub and flow of electric Shinjuku below her. Startling white lights, neon green and vermillion explosions deck modern Japan in brilliant splendor. She c***s her head. A quick snap and the audio streaming through her brain core is clear. Every footfall, every hovering vehicle, and whisper from beneath are all audible to her. However, she hears, but does not understand. She sees, but does not comprehend… Her porcelain face is void of expression, as the icy breeze bites at her skin; ripples through her short, silken hair-- black as the night around her. She stands. Her slender frame exposed. A tight ebony dive suit stretches across her stark, ivory skin. Tall boots hug firmly at her thighs and her graceful hands, concealed within gloves, fall to her sides. Only her crimson eyes---the deep pools of lethal mercury--- are conspicuous in the twilight. Deadly. Vacant. Eyes that now carelessly retreat within the barriers of her artificial intelligence. But they are also the same eyes which strike terror into a victim’s heart, and of innocence itself. She detects an entity. The girl is not the only one connected to the internet. An alert program sets her dormant system into full reaction as an assumed virus threatens to hack her core. She throws up attack barriers and locks down vital information, as programmed. Within seconds her mind becomes an impenetrable fortress, built of strong firewalls and armed with expedient, tactile Xeno viruses. But before she can strike, an encrypted tone shatters the cold silence of infinite cyberspace, “0016347, S.E.M.I.S, accessing informative cybertronic dive.” The recovery code clears instantaneously. Her barriers power down. A sense of familiarity floods her A.I, a mechanical realization that this has occurred before. “Solus Lex prototype #7 ---initiating informative order download. Authentication needed.” “001527H, T.H.E.T.A” She responds without hesitation. Even in the confines of her own A.I, her voice is warm and imitates that of an adult woman-- sharp, with a smooth velvet undertone. Immediately, a rush of new information downloads to her internal memory. The city blurs and sound is non-existent as digitized files appear before her eyes. One contains details of a time and place. The second, a digital image of a man along with his name and personal information. Lastly, classified instructions. Complicated and dangerous orders that only she can execute with utmost perfection. The entity withdraws. A feeling of solitude echoes in her mechanical heart, but beyond this there is no reaction, no emotion. She is not human. Only a cybernetic being, created for one purpose: Destruction. Across the roof she walks--a confident, swaggering stride. She now has a part to play. There is no thought behind her action. No freewill to attain. It is enough to follow orders: silently, absently. She is possessed by a programmed nature. Reaching the southern edge, she pauses. Her delicate form is outlined in the darkness from the glowing nightlife below. She swivels around her and her heals scrape grime under foot. Suddenly, she breaks into a run. Building incomprehensible speed, she leaps across the divide between the two towers. Her slender legs part to maximum extent, in a fervent display of agility, as she strives, in mid air, to reach the other side. She lands perfectly on the flat roof, crushing a tile beneath her with the powerful force of her legs. It smashes slowly into obliterate pieces, as if defying the laws of speed and matter. But there is no time to waste. Quickly, she moves to the ledge overlooking the pivotal stretch of Shinjuku’s nightlife. The optical sight controlled by the precision of her eye lenses, scans the flow of air traffic. Sleek vehicles, flying parallel to each other, catch spasmodic neon light as they streak past digital billboards smeared along the city‘s sides. There are many sounds to absorb, many sights to see. Hundreds of streamline towers, their windows mirroring the expanse of eccentric cityscape. Hear the car horns, the black crows cawing and rustling their great wings as music drifts from a far off place. But she focuses on one element as her internal clock counts down. Three. Two. One. Target acquired Her optical sight locks on a silver vehicle rapidly approaching. It flows with a web of tight air traffic offering only a brief window of opportunity. She takes it. Leaning forward, she pulls her hands above her head and dives off the edge… © 2010 Paris FranceAuthor's Note
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Paris FranceIn Your Dreams,, WAAboutKind, sweet, and cute--that’s who people say I am, but do they really know me…? Perhaps not, and that’s why I must tell you. I am a complicated little person, who likes some thin.. more..Writing
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