The Trigonometrist

[theallseeingeye]

Hi, I;ve another story for you. This is an extract but please criticise it as much as you like! I need the help!

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"Please fasten your seatbelt! I'm your host for this morning's simulated drive. And, as you know, you could fit my entire hard drive memory onto a pin-prick a thousand times and still have enough room left to build an entire estate of six-bedroom detached luxury Beaver homes, a football pitch, a landscaped park and an airfield the size of Heathrow with a–"

Jon punched the mute button on his watch. Reality – whatever that meant
nowadays – simmered mirage-like and evaporated. He detested the compu-techs and their latest compulsory gadgetry. What was the point? It used to be communication, mega-fast world wide interconnectivity, instantaneous this, instantaneous that! It made a primeval sense long ago. But not now. Not now when physicality was no longer possible, or even desirable. Not since the total destruction of flesh and bone via the overspill dust, the radio-active falJont from the Ultimate Weapon of mass destruction, the one who bought death and destruction and permanent change: God! That's right. That crazy creator came back big time, and settled up all his old scores. The Supreme Genetist came back to ****
with a head or three, mutate a baboon's arse with a human's face, a pig's snout grafted naturally onto a president's genitals made a change from the usual attachment. Then he blew the sorry mess away into deep space with a single swipe of his hand.

But we surprised ourselves; surprised Him, if the truth be told, Jon thought
resolutely savouring the moment he'd battled back. The brain was all-powerful. The mind was all that there ever was, but mankind didn't know it. Not until God stepped in wearing a flat cap and giant jack boots bigger than the Himalayas and the Rockies all merged together – what a joker. He peeled back the skin of the world and revealed our true bloody nature.

Those who didn't die of shock where they stood trembling, screamed insanely, fled in terror, forever looking skyward for His return. But He came quickly, like most males, and left even quicker once His seed had been planted on the earth He had fallowed. The roots sprang up quicker than dawn's light spreads across the surface of the earth each morning. They were strange roots, unseen and therefore indescribable but for metaphor and myth. No previous metaphoric mythology could describe the splendour and the madness of His new creation. The few scientists who remained alive tried but failed to discredit what they saw; the handful of priests bowed down; the sheep looked up and fled in confusion underground like the cave folk they had once been. But God laughed and spat on them in a boiling shower of holy vomit, crapped on them all with excessive evacuation of too fluid faeces that burnt them like nuclear radiation. He was not
fussy. It was time to create again – and so He did.

* * *

 

[theallseeingeye]

Here's the next bit.

* * *
"Car. Turn of the 21st century model – family, cheap, roomy, French."

A Citroen Picasso appeared in his mind's eye, as real as REM images, hard to the touch. Physically it felt real. But Jon knew it was an illusion. Sophisticated, but a slick hallucination. He sighed, longed for the ancient times when to roam free through the city smog, to inhale the exhaust fumes of double-decker buses was part of physical freedom. What mankind had done to itself by way of global warming and rising sea levels was nothing compared to His annihilation of the planet. In less than seven minutes he'd erased all trace of land, sea, and sky and replaced it with the stark truth of the Universe. How many years now? Almost three thousand since Auto-Destruction Day. Like a fairy tale pumpkin, not only had the horse-drawn carriage and footmen vanished, but–

God was a sick shit, but a clever sick shit, no doubt. Just look at what he'd left out there where land and sea and sky had once been.

It didn't bear thinking about. Not now. Not now he was so close to solving the mystery of physical creation, of that once mortal state of being that was taken for granted by billions until–

Jon hissed, sucked in non-breath, felt the non-physical air sting his
make-believe lungs. All was pretence in this new existence. The others had made sure of that – especially Mr Brown's sect. They'd called themselves God's Guardian Fringe. But their barbaric warped sense of humour was light years removed from any Edinburgh fringe group could be. Sadistic upholders of His new world model, a new world of chaos and non-being.

Outside, in what had once been planet Earth, there now resided a single
monolith of flame. It towered into the stars, casting a red luminosity into every citizen's mock window. No-one dared to leave their pretend homes. Imprisoned inside their mindset they squabbled and fought not physically but via a twisted telepathy.

Jon hated Mr Brown next door more than the GGF. He had his suspicions that he was one of their plants, a mole-brain who relayed every little morsel of telepathic, pre-cog, or ESP information that wound its way into his domain. Brown's mindset was disturbing. Historically speaking his ancestral line had served as priests, had felt the power of total supplication and unquestioning obedience from the masses. His genetic makeup directed, goaded him toward worship and prayer and control of his flock. His flock? His flock were his neighbours, God damn it! His flock had a right to think whatever they wanted to think, believe in nothing, believe in everything if they wished. But Brown and GGF had other ideas.

To Jon that's all they were – ideas. Nothing more, nothing less. Did people have to die because of those beliefs, those ideas? Yes, because God had made his comeback, hadn't He? He'd proved His mighty power, and now the favoured, chosen few would administer His justice and His rule.

He drifted into his assumed mindset, would have liked to have pulled on the
denim jeans, blue-suede shoes and slicked back his hair like Elvis. But for now, this pretend life would have to do. He could just make it if he hurried. He told himself that as a comfort – for he knew that it was a lie. Time meant nothing much anymore – not since God's swift arrival, and hasty departure. The atoms were pure and the memories contained within them 99.99% reMiable, according to Rita. It would have to do.

Jon laughed bitterly. Rita meter maid was certainly not heaven sent. It was a barely adequate artificial creator-computer – one of many. God's sick joke – again. She was marginally more amiable than Mr Brown. But her past reality archive was functional. Jon trusted it, as much as anyone could trust such a device. I hope you're ready Mia-Ma, he thought, because I'm coming. Should I kill you or kiss you? I'm not sure.

 

[*~EMMER~*]

im guessing your trying to give the reader info about this world you have created. but do you have to give it all at once. maybe you could space it throughout the story and give the reader some time to soak up all the facts rather than throwing it all at them and hoping they remember it. It seems abit full on when you first read it.

Is the swearing necessary?? im not against it or anything, but a friend pointed out in a past story that it made my story seem abit tacky and over reactive. 'God was a sick shit, but a clever sick shit, no doubt.'
What about 'God was a sick guy, but a clever sick guy, no doubt.' It's just a suggestion, but if you feel the swearing is necessary to the characters personality then go for it!


It seems a really interesting setting for a story, i would love to see where it goes from here keep going !!

 

[Stewart]

I thought it was a mish-mash of ideas, though there was nothing concrete about them. You seem to know what you are thinking about, but the overall idea is not coming across to the reader.

There's so much mentioned that I have no idea, most of the time, about what you are referring to, or even talking about.

I take it that you are quite young? I was going to guess that it was a school project, or something, but the pointless swearing threw me off.

And what, by the way, is a GGF?

 

[Occlith]

And what is a GGF?

God's Guardian Fringe.

theallseeingeye, is the point of view that of Jon or an omniscient narrator? It seems to shift at times.

 

[DeathScape]

Why is it only for 18 year olds? There's nothing bad about it...