A story written by my 15 year old daughter, this week, for her Year 10 homework English assignment on Narrative. I think it's very good. We brainstormed some story ideas first - then she 'wrote it up'.
Now I have the writing of my maternal grandmother, Hilda Mitchell, myself, and my daughter (three generations of story tellers) on this blog.
You might like to read of her ideas of a future dystopia.
I've written no blogs since last September - looooooong story - but mostly that I'm finishing the last few writing books on 'How-to-write' to start a bigger writing project (Memoir on eating disorder recovery and a 'practice-novel') and then I'll have fun again on this blog - stories and narrative non-fiction :-)
But here is Liana's short story:
*
An Epidemic of Apathy - Narrative
Abigail’s thoughts snapped back into focus when she heard her name
called from the overhead speakers: ‘Abigail Hardy. Five minutes
till stage time for the press conference.’
She watched the sea of faces crowding into the large conference
room, with a number of her colleagues darting about amongst them,
racing to hand out pamphlets, or put up last-minute posters - most
of which she’d written and designed herself - stating: Morphil: The magnificent new vaccine which will eliminate suffering.
She smiled and felt proud of her marketing work on this campaign,
as she knew it would help people; this would mark the beginning of
an end to human suffering. And she was a part of this giant leap
forward for human evolution. However, the longer she stood
watching the crowd, the more nervous she grew. There were many
journalists present, of course, but there were also numerous
high-profile specially invited guests, and around a hundred
members of the general public; the latter group included those
fortunate enough to secure one of the limited number of entrance
tickets. Abigail turned to face the stage, which she thought would
help her nerves, and she took a slow deep breath and prepared for
her own part in the night’s events.
The mayor, Craine Wey, was just beginning his speech: “I’m proud
to announce the start of a new era” he said. “We are now truly
beyond our own time of 2054. With this vaccine, which I will
launch tonight, we will be able to eradicate horrible feelings
like anger, fear, sadness, and even desire - which are all
emotions which can lead to suffering both directly to individuals,
and indirectly through the behaviours they cause which negatively
affect society.
In the past, we thought changing human emotions so deeply and
permanently would be impossible; we thought human emotions were an
innate and inseparable part of the human mind. However, today I am
here to tell you that this once considered impossible task is now
possible. Tonight we will give the first batch of vaccines which
will eventually rid humanity of toxic emotions. We will then move
humanity forward towards a safer, more harmonious, and more
productive society. We will become more than human. We will become
better than we are!”
The crowd clapped and cheered uproariously in response.
This was Abigail’s cue to walk on-stage and join the rest of her
marketing team. She recalled the instructions the mayor had given
her: ‘Just stand there, look pretty, and say “Morphil is
magnificent.”
She said her lines and enjoyed her moment. She was very aware that
she was a part of changing the world. And this was the night, she
told herself, that it all began. Although, she remembered with a
tinge of guilt, she'd sneaked a small sample from the mayor’s
office, the previous day, and given it to her husband for his birthday. It was like
naming a star after the man she loved. Although this was better,
she thought. This would bring him a blissful and calm life. She
laughed when she recalled his hesitation at accepting her present.
‘Don’t you trust me, Alex?!’ she asked him. ‘I’ll get my injection
at work next week. I can’t let them know I sneaked some out for
you. That’s the reason I won’t take my shot with you.’ He’d held
out his arm and she’s given him the shot. ‘Happy birthday,
darling!’ she proclaimed as she applied the bandaid afterwards.
After the conference, the crowd swarmed over to the medical tent;
these would be the first small group in the city - in all
of Australia and the world - to receive their vaccines. The mass
vaccination programs would begin the following day, although they
would take many months to complete.
The next day Abigail woke to find a brown, barking, ball of fluff
next to her head, instead of her husband. She greeted Nona, the
family dog, with a smile then rolled out of bed and into the
kitchen. Strange, Alex isn’t here either she thought, then grabbed
breakfast. As she was about to go to work she saw him at the
doorway.“Hey, good morning. How are you?” she asked cheerfully.
Alex turned around and stared at her, “Fine” he replied with a
vacant expression, then left.
Abigail got out the door and walked to work. On the way, she
noticed a medical tent on the side of the street. Already, the
lines of people waiting for the vaccine extended around the
corner. She was pleased that Alex didn’t need to wait in such long
queues. He really needed the vaccine, she reflected, as he did
have a tendency to brooding dark moods and irritability which
affected his concentration at work. He needed to pull his weight
and contribute more to society. He was born with strong emotions
and he had trouble with this. In this day and age, mental illness
is unacceptable; it’s even, maybe, a plague she thought. Which is
exactly why Morphil was created. So people like Alex could be
cured.
Abigail got to her workplace and walked inside. The company was
easy to spot, as it was one of the tallest skyscrapers in the
city. She got to her office, filled with designs and campaign
posters for Morphil, and began to work.
After a long day at work, Abigail finally came home. It was
pouring, when she opened the front door, and she was drenched as
she stepped inside. Alex was sitting in the lounge room watching
television. Beside him, on the couch, was a dark crumpled object.
Abigail walked up the hallway to give her husband a kiss, however,
as she came nearer, she was able to more clearly see the
motionless object beside him. Her heart sunk. It was Nona. She was
dead!
Abigail fell to her knees then turned her attention to Alex, who
was still silently watching the television. She looked for any
answers to this horrible scenario in the expression on his face.
There was nothing.
Alex then turned to her, seemingly unsure about the meaning to
her expression, and he looked over to the dog.
“It got run over. Go bury it; I’m busy,” he said with a cold,
apathetic tone.
With that single sentence, the reality of a world without emotion
- a husband … a person … a human being without any emotion -
became too horribly obvious to Abigail.
The clock ticked s-l-o-w-l-y. The horrible moment dragged out
before her. Silence. No playful barking and light conversation.
She missed these simple things already. She felt a chill run up
her spine as she continued to stare at her husband, realising what
she’d done. She’d killed him. She’d rid him of his emotions and
now he was just a husk of his former self. His soul was gone.
Tears streamed down her face at the realisation of what Alex had
become. What she’d done to him. Her husband. Her best friend.
Now, effectively, a robot. And, the worst part was that she had
made him this way. She insisted he take the vaccine. Her stupid
‘present’ to him. Not only that, but she'd encouraged her friends as
well. They would soon be effectively robots as well. Effectively
dead. In fact, worse still - she had promoted Morphil to the
entire city. That was her job, as head of the marketing campaign.
I must do something! Something to turn this situation around -
before it’s too late! Or everyone will be gone!
In that very moment, Abigail had an epiphany. She had something
in mind to fix all this. To do something toward fixing all she’d
done wrong. She knew that she could use her knowledge of
marketing - make a website, posters, videos - to warn everyone
about the danger of the vaccine. She
could warn people that emotions are what make us human - good and
bad - but without them we are lifeless husks without any light
behind our eyes, without a personality, without a soul.
Anger and inspiration grew inside her like a seedling. With my
skill, I could run protests and write articles to stop this. I’ll
take down the mayor and the company for what they did to my
family, she thought. But then the anger evaporated as she
looked down at the tiny needle mark on her right upper arm.
She'd had a little time to nip out, during her lunch break, and join a queue.
A cool calm washed over her and she sat beside her husband.
'What's on television, tonight?' she asked him. The dead bundle
of fur at her feet could wait.
*
