Chapter 1: My Earth

In a corrupt world where everyone is anonymous, one man rises to bring order.

When I was born, my father wouldn’t take his eyes off me. In fact, he didn’t take his eyes off me until I was about the age of 7. He made sure he knew who I was, so we wouldn’t get separated. So he wouldn’t find another child and think it was me. So I wouldn’t find another man and think it was him. Every man looks the same here. Every woman looks the same here. Sounds the same. Dresses the same. The only thing that makes us different is what goes on in our head. And my head is constantly dreaming. Dreaming of a different world. A world that isn’t as corrupt, as violent, and as lonely as this one.

My father told me a story once of a place where people looked different from one another. It was called “Earth”. The people on this planet had this thing called a “name” which apparently is some sort of assignment given at birth. A label that says “this is him, and this is her”. With each name came a reputation. Some reputations came with consequences. Some with power. Some with gifts. He told me of a time where we tried having names, but people kept claiming to be who they really weren’t and the system became corrupt. Now the population agrees on just being anonymous, so no one calls anyone by a name; no label of any sort. We just make quick social interactions when we have time to.  Saying “hey” then maybe some small talk and we move on. I’ve never had a friend that lasted more than a few hours, hence being on such a lonesome planet.

When we aren’t talking to one another (which is almost always), we fulfill our selfish needs. We’re all anonymous. There aren’t any consequences for our actions and we don’t have the capacity to care for people we don’t know (or people we don’t know that we know), so we can do whatever the hell we want. For some people that includes killing when we’re angry and raping when we’re horny. What a corrupt world we live in. I for one do not participate in these selfish acts. The planet is already corrupt as it is and it doesn’t need me to make it even worse.

In fact, I want to make it better. I want to make it more like “Earth”.

This “Earth” my father told me about… I wonder if he made it up or if it actually existed once before. Someone must have told him about it. There still could be an Earth. Well there’s no telling. It’s not like I can fly into the sky and travel to planet far away. Or can I?

No, I can’t. But I can try to bring Earth to us. Not like dragging the entire planet, but its customs and its concepts. Well, you know what I mean. I don’t quite know how. But I’ll figure it out one day. One day…

 

I start to get up out of my small, twig-built tent that I’ve been hiding in all day. The ground is cold and hard and I can’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. I should’ve build it somewhere more comfortable, but hidden by this gigantic tree, this seemed to be the best spot. Why might I be hiding, you ask? Killers and rapists. That’s right; in a world where everyone is anonymous, there’s an abundant supply of them.

They run on the land with their sharp, wonderfully edged blades, satisfying their hunger to kill. Their hunger for sex. From the constant killing I hear outside my tent at night, I assure you that this planet lacks any civil form of anger management… or any management at all for that matter.

I open the mouth of my tent that’s made up of nothing more than a big, green leaf, dripping water that runs under my already-cold body as I sleep. The tent seems to be built on a slope, but I didn’t know that when I started building it. Hiding in a tent is about as effective as hiding under the covers when you think there’s a monster in your bedroom, but it has done a good job at keeping out ‘monsters’ this past week anyway. So I trust my safety in the tent.

The coast is clear of any monsters today, I think. It’s safe to leave the tent. The calm population outside my tent flushes away any fears I've had from the previous night. Our people are pure black with strange white eyes. No pupils. Each and every one of them is in shape - the same shape as everyone else. Every man is equipped with a flat, but muscular belly. Every woman is equipped with a nice pair of breasts. The gaze of our people makes me shiver, even though I look the same to all of them.

I check the time on the nearby sundial. It’s noon. I head to the Circle, attentively looking in every direction for an oncoming attacker.

The Circle is more of a miniature hill; a bump in the ground with a small stone in the middle. Hundreds of people join together for a few minutes a day to see what entertainment they can find here. Usually, there are bloody fights to the death, interactive games with the audience, or a singer that sings about the fear and unsettling pain in our society. 

I think everyone can agree that we are corrupt, however most everyone can also agree that they like it corrupt. It lets them persist with their selfish acts uninterrupted. But today, we don’t have the usual form of entertainment. In fact, this wasn’t entertaining at all. It was rather painful to watch. Today, we have trollbait.

 

A hopeful man steps onto the center stone. The wide look in his eyes and patterns in blinking tells me he’s going to sing, but apparently he has something else in mind. “Attention,” the man on the stone yells, “I have come up with a plan-“

An audience member interrupts him, “Shut up! We don’t want your stupid plan!”

His hopeful eyes change with frustration, “Hear me out,” the man says, “this plan will-”

“G-T-F-O,” a woman shouts rather aggressively.

Musicians holding tube-like instruments carved from what seems to be sticks of bamboo wait in disappointment on the edge of the Circle. Tired of hearing about bullshit plans that 'won't work', a few people try to coax the musicians onto the stone. Instead they just leave, mumbling hateful things under their breath. However, I don’t want to hear them play; I want to hear the man with the plan propose his idea. We need a plan.

Gesturing around the Circle, I yell out in the man’s defense, “Hey! I wanna hear what this man has to say!” I look over at the man. “Go on”.

An audience member from across the Circle glares at me. My body shivers on impulse and I look away.

The man looks around at the audience, worried, scared. I can tell things aren’t going as he planned. He looks for an escape, but then gulps and continues on with his proposal, “We can have a government-“ the crowd ‘boo’s at him in disapproval, but he continues to shout over them anyway, “A government to put some order in this corrupt world we live in. To change the world! It’ll be better. It’ll be-“.

The crowd has gotten too loud and he gives up with a long sigh. His speech has ended all too quickly. As he attempts to make his remorseful steps out of the Circle, a few angry men and one woman maul him to his rather painful-to-watch death. No one cared about him. Well, no one knew they cared about him.

I heard every word from that man’s proposal. And I realized that’s what we need in order to change society. We need a government. We need control. But the problem is no one wants a higher power. To interfere with their selfish acts. To change. No one likes change.

But we need change. We need to be more like Earth.

As people exit the circle in disappointment, I head back to my tent to think about Earth some more. To think about a government.

I need to be a leader. I need to take a stand. We need to try names again. We need to dress different. We need to have order. A thought escapes out my mouth, “But how can I be a leader if people don’t want one?”

The mouth of my tent opens suddenly and I duck down in the corner. A man looks at me and I think it’s the end. “Don’t kill me,” I mutter in fear.

The man steps inside of my small tent. It can barely fit the two of us. “Relax,” he says, “I’m not here to kill you.”

I get up and sigh in relief.

The man continues, “I heard you talking about having order in the world. Being a leader?”

I nod.

It seems he may be on the same page as me. Maybe he could be a partner of some sort, I think. No, that’s ridiculous. It’ll only be a matter of time before we separate, never to see each other again. Well, never to recognize each other again.

He leans in close to me and I feel myself starting to suffocate from the lack of space in the tent. I have a bubble, man. I think. Get out of my bubble.

“I want in,” the man whispers.

I can’t help but let out a little smirk. I know he means he wants in on my plan, but I was just thinking about my bubble and - never mind.

But I wonder why he’s whispering. Maybe he realizes being in favor of something so different makes him vulnerable to the world. Anyone who disagrees with him can easily just kill him off. “Great. You got any ideas?” I say.

“Well we could have a system. If someone does something bad, we kill them on the spot,” he suggests.

“But I don’t want to kill anyone,” I counter. Punishing the monsters shouldn’t turn me into a monster, I think.

“Any better ideas?”

“No, but-“

“Hey, we can at least try it,” he interrupts.

There’s an awkward silence and the man looks at me, curiously. Without any other logical ideas, I guess we have to resort to killing as a punishment. But does that make us any better than them? I mean our intentions aren’t selfish like theirs. We’ll scare people into being good, right?

“All right,” I say, “but that’s not all we need here. We need a system to differentiate people from one another.”

“Like names?” the man says.

“Like names,” I confirm.

The man looks at me with discomfort, “We tried that one time. Didn’t work. How would you make it any better?”

“We could have… unique names. No two names are the same. We carve them into our arms.”

“Now who would let us carve something into their skin?”

“You’re right. That’s stupid.” I can’t think of a way a system of naming could work in a society of such anonymity. The idea is clearly far-fetched, but there must be a way it could work.

“I like where you’re going with that, though,” the man pats me on the back, gets up, and starts for the exit. I begin to follow. “Let’s just stick to punishing the bad people,” he says. “Worry about names later.”

His head pokes out for a second, then as he makes his first step, he stumbles and falls to the ground.

“You okay?” I say, thinking he had only tripped. Blood starts running into the tent and I hear a man grunt in anger.

I hesitate, then I spot the man’s feet at the mouth of my tent. I run out and tackle the man by the legs. He has a knife.

The man takes his knife and goes in for a stab, but I stop the knife with my hand, cutting off my left pinky which wasn’t of much importance anyway. With an awkward grip on the knife, I counter it towards the attacker’s face. As I press the knife's tip up against the man’s nose, my adrenaline kicks in and I stab him with force.

Blood squirts out in my direction and his head drops back to the ground, eyes closed. He lets out one last breath. I’ve never seen someone so at ease, I think. Not from this perspective, anyway.

I killed him. It’s my first kill. Feels good.

I get up and look around to see if anyone was looking. No one was. Fights are the norm here. No one really cares about them; they just silently fear them. 

Dragging the two bodies away from the tent, I think about the man’s plan to kill the killers - to punish them. How it’ll make me a monster. How there’ll be less monsters if I kill them. Society’s better off when less of the population is selfish. And I’m not selfish, I think, am I?

I walk the on the land, trying to spot any other 'rule breakers'. There are four simple rules I go by:

1.       Don’t kill anyone.

2.       Don’t threaten anyone.

3.       Don’t rape anyone.

4.       Don’t troll anyone.

Of course, I’m a hypocrite when it comes to rule one, but my intentions aren’t selfish. It’ll bring good change, I hope. Don’t second guess yourself or you’ll end up dead, I think.

I spot a man across the woods. He walks awkwardly, almost angrily. His huffing and puffing even registers in my ears from far away. Anger means killing here, so I keep my distance and follow him to his destination. After a few paces, he pulls a blade out from his pocket and he starts to run downhill.

I accelerate over to the hilltop and see that he’s headed for another man, whose back is turned in the other direction, not paying any attention to his surroundings. If I was the first person on the madman’s path, it could have been me he was after, I think.

I sprint and tackle his target from the side to protect him. The angry man jumps on top of me. The area is crowded, but he couldn’t care less.

As he perfects his grip on the knife, he pays close attention to me. He won’t take his white eyes off me, making sure I don’t move. The anger in his eyes is unmistakable. With the knife grasped firmly in his hand, he aims for my skull; and from the looks of it, my forehead.

I stop his arm before his knife can reach my skin. As I grab the knife in my uninjured hand, he looks at me, astonished. I should be nervous, but after being able to kill that other man earlier with such ease, I’m somewhat confident that I’ll live through this one, too.

“Rule number one,” I say, ready to kill, “don’t kill anyone.” I stab the man in the chest. He couldn’t look more surprised as he falls over to his much-deserved death.

People stare at me from all around. I can’t tell if they’re amazed or confused. But either way, it’s a good thing they noticed. It’s a good thing if they’re scared.

His original target gets up. Out of breath he says, “Thank you,” then he runs away. He seems to fear me, but it’s not him who I want to be scared. It’s the crowd; the audience.

I get up and get a better look at my audience. There are about forty people, maybe fifty. Not quite as much as there usually is at the Circle, but enough to satisfy me.

“Would anyone else like to… take a stab?” I yell out, holding the knife in my hand, panting for dramatic effect; even though I can breathe just fine.

As expected from my provocative statement, a man sprints towards me in response, already equipped with a knife in hand. I drop to the soft, green ground in a planking position before he has the chance to hit me. He trips over my body. Knife in hand, I hop up and stand over him. I can tell by the look on his sorry face he knows it’s the end of the road. I drop my knife into his skull and his blood splatters around my ankles.

Almost immediately, people shriek with fear. Fear, hmm… I like fear.

Author's Note

This is my second draft. Please review what you think I should improve on and change. And possibly what should happen in next few chapters..

Reviews

[Alex Thomas]

Wow. Conceptually, this is one of the deepest works I've read. At the end, the hypocritical law enforcement at the end shows the influence of most utopian society throughout literature. Very George Orwell. The scene itself seems very rushed. I think you should slow it down a bit with more details and description. If everyone looks the same, what do they look like? What happened to earth? Etc. The Dystopian society and the need for individuality and change is not a new concept, but I like how you've approached it with characters who are not human. This piece actually reminds me a bit of Anthem by Ann Rand. A great job on it.

[nostal]

And here begins my thorough review of this chapter.

I like the concept. I've a;ways been intrigued by dystopian novels or stories or films, like Fahrenheit 451, The Road, Repo Men. And although your concept isn't necessarily new for the most part, you manage to add your own authenticity and originality to the plate.

Plot- As mentioned above I enjoyed the concept, although not the beginning. Because you let everything loose in the beginning. Instead of thrusting the reader straight into the action, you begin preachy. You disperse everything about the society in which he lives. And that is why your execution begins a bit erratic. It would be better and smoother if you began right in the heat of the action, and dispelled the info and the fundamentals of the society slowly, teasing the reader, making him want more. You take it slow, not rushed.

Characterization- This is wear the major fault lies. Because everyone looks alike, your characters have no depth. You could give them depth, but it seems you have not. The character just makes rash decisions and contemplates thoughts throughout. There's really no connection to him. Why should we care about him, if there's thousands of others who look exactly like him. And by making everyone alike, you make everyone inherently evil. The character is not dimensional, he is like a robot or cardboard cut out. He has no tendencies, no nuances.

I liked the part about his father though, that's a start.

You also don't set him up as a very bulky, or muscular character. He comes off as lanky for some reason. So it highly unbelievable that he could get three kills in one day, and survive, even though he has never killed before. IIf you are going to bestow him with this strength, you must set it up.

Dialogue: No beefs in this department, as you are a screenplay writer, you're ability to write and lengthen conversations is infallible.

All in all: 6.5/10

[Thorn]

I can’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. I should’ve build it somewhere more comfortable, but hidden by this gigantic tree, this seemed to be the best spot. Why might I be hiding, you ask? Killers and rapists. That’s right; in a world where everyone is anonymous, there’s an abundant supply of them.
***
This should say "What might I be hiding from", I think. ^^

Wow! I haven't read the whole chapter, but it's really interesting and original. What would happen if everyone was the same? I like it. Keep writing! =D

[hippityhoppitybippitybo..]

The concept feels somewhat like a hideously distorted version of Roy Miro's vision of a perfect world mashed with a bunch of people that might as well have been living in the Iron Age and the kids from Lord of the Flies, almost like something you'd see on a post-apocalyptic Earth. The basic concept's been done before a couple times, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't see any possibilities here that could ultimately lead to something very unique without warping the storyline too much.

Something I'd like to point out is that if he doesn't get into a lot of brawls/intend to get into them, why is he a better combatant than the others? Two of them he takes by surprise, but after going through that trouble, he still manages to take out a third one without too much effort.

It's nice to see that the main character isn't some indecisive do-gooder that wants to protect everyone, god knows how sick I am of seeing that. The only complaints I have about the structure have been discussed by the earlier comments. Rather than writing itself, your specialty seems to lie in plot threading, or at least that's the vibe I'm getting from this particular piece.

[typicallyunsure]

I absolutely LOVE the concept of this story. Its very unique and very promising.

Having said that the only thing I think needs work is your descriptions. There are many places in this chapter where I see you telling what's going on rather than showing. For example when she gets her tip of her pinky cut off you simply say it happens. Instead you could describe the act of her pinky being cut off.

Another example is the following lines:
Every man looks the same here. Every woman looks the same here. Sounds the same. Dresses the same. The only thing that makes us different is what goes on in our head. And my head is constantly dreaming. Dreaming of a different world. A world that isn’t as corrupt, as violent, and as lonely as this one.

I love the concepts you're introducing but I feel like it should be described more rather than just told to the readers.
Seriously good premise though I will definitely be reading more

[kasG]

I love the dystopian society angle, and the possibility for political satire. I agree with Alex's comment below about similarities between this and Anthem by Ayn Rand. I was also struck by potential similarities to Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. This would do with a little more description, and your main character does need a legitimate supporting cast instead of a bunch of people who move in and out of his range of motion. I also think you have great potential to use individual thought - like pure, original thought- as a way that slowly transforms a person and makes him/her physically distiguishable - sort of like in the movie Pleasantville, when people changed from black and white to color. The more a man/woman begins to think outside the dystopian mantra, the more he/she changes physically.

Grammatically, There were a few minor typos, but they weren't distracting. Overall, there is room for improvement, but it's a very sound first chapter. I'm definitely intrigued.

[compositionc]

This was really amazing. The idea is different, it's unique (hate that word, but can't think of any others), and it's very deep and well thought out. The society is different in their way, and I like how he keeps referring to 'Earth', as if it were a different world, which, I guess it is. I see how you fit the description in there, but you could try to expand on it. And expand on what their world looks like, give us something to relate to the scene/imagine what's going on.

The characters, even though they're pretty much all the same...Correction, the population! of the people are corrupt. Very, very corrupt. I'm not surprised someone, our narrator, is taking a stand and putting fear into their heads. God, dictator much?

-will read more-

[Felipe]

nice chapter man, it is very interesting, a chaotic world eh? let's see how the protagonist implants order in this world, keep up the good work

[halflives]

Wow. I couldn't NOT stop reading, which is rare for me. It's very hard to keep my attention, most of the time I just skim through the reading, but this chapter kept my eyes glued to the screen. Seriously, how did you come up with this? Brilliant idea, the way the main character talks about "Earth" in such a way. It made me laugh, how he was like -- "oh, names are an assignment at birth" -- it was spectacular. A joke within a joke that wasn't really supposed to be a joke. If you know what I mean. Which you probably don't, 'cause I'm rambling.

The characters, even though there is a little population of them at the moment, are believeable. The "Hmm... I like fear" from the main character at the end was both surprising and suspenceful. I'm into this book as of now, and I'm anxiously reading on to see what happens next!

[Ace D Portgas]

Wow man, from the poems to the screenplays to this man you really got a knack for writing...I've enjoyed all your pieces so far and as for this story I say keep it coming...Looking forward to reading some more of this

[Omar Fendri]

well, it is blatant that you are used to write screen plays which explains the reason of the lack of the description, but you know, it didn't bother me at all... well, description helps us to relate to the scene, the persons, the emotions... but this book is a science fiction book... (I am not a big fan of science fiction but I adore seeing how far people get with their imagination... and your imaginations here really got that far). I adore the idea... It is original... I am curious about how does this place look like... description here can help you to illustrate the scene very well...
Nice job.