I decided to share a small portion of what I’ve been working on in light of the Thanksgiving story contest. It’s a sci-fi dystopian novel set in the near future following a society who’s hierarchy is based on the amount of followers you have versus the amount you are following, quantified into a Ratio (R). [u][b]Josh[/b][/u] 1. [spoiler][quote] Ready to update. Josh slapped his morning power drink down onto the marble counter, burping loudly. He double tapped the side of his temples. The heads-up display warmed the back of his eyes, calibrating the data provided to his feed by the universal data source known as the “Ever”, a term he had learned after reaching R6. Being connected to the Ever meant nothing actually turned off, it just disappeared from view, but he didn’t mind-- and most didn’t know. Whatever he experienced, his followers should get to experience as well. It was like the saying went. “If able, then able.” “Today is [October 05, 2033], with a time of [0730]. Clear skies will be coupled with a high of [85] with strong winds due to arrive this evening”, Ever’s voice chimed. “Your BPM is [59], with a RMR of [2450] calories. SMM exceeds the population average by [75]%. BF is [10]%. Blood pressure: Nominal. Stress levels: Nominal. Digestion: Nominal. Immunity: Nominal. Optic Distance: Calibrating...Nominal. Aesthetics: Nominal. “Always room for improvement”, he quipped, grinning at no one. “All systems nominal”, Ever corrected. The truth was there actually wasn’t any more room for improvement. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, Josh had hit his genetic cap. But he’d do whatever it took to keep going. That drove him toward ingesting as many different hormones and additives as were available, publicly or privately. One could find many such opportunities if they were willing to part ways with some of their more valuable followers, a transaction Josh had found himself dealing more times than he cared to admit. In fact, there was one such spot he had done so here in his beach house. Right beyond the white sofa by the door. A man had come by, promising an experience Josh would not want to miss. And just that was enough to make Josh exchange away some followers. But he’d get them back, he reasoned with himself. He knew how. “How am I doing, Ever?” he asked. “I just told you.” it responded. “No, no”, Josh waved his hands, smiling.”Not me. How are the others doing?” “Scanning...Anomaly detected.” “Oh good! Something different.” he slapped his hands together. “Patch me in.”[/quote][/spoiler] 2. [spoiler][quote] Despite what he told himself, Josh knew that he didn’t earn R6 status. But, he would counter, he did deserve it. After all, the prototypes were his. Well, technically they were his father’s, but he was gone, so that made them Josh’s. As he awaited the video feed, his thoughts drifted back to his father. Life hadn’t been bad then, when he was an R3. His father was still alive and working in the lab. Josh had grown there, the two working side by side as long as Josh could remember. Josh hadn’t had much interaction outside the lab save for popular videos he found on the Internet. Anytime Josh had brought up going outside or meeting new people, his father would chide him for such frivolous pursuits. “What we’re doing here, Josh, we’re discovering truth. We’re creating a better reality, we’re bettering humanity.” He ran one of his experiments, pursing his lips. “Them? They’re hungry. They’re leeches. They don’t want you. They just want what you’re giving them.” Josh, very young at the time, struggled to understand. “But why Dad? What’s wrong about giving to someone if they’re hungry?” Mr. Polla paused for a moment, fiddling with his glasses. “Do you remember how your sister died?”, he asked. Josh’s eyes widened. “Umm, yeah. There was something growing inside of her and the doctors couldn’t stop it.” “That’s right, Hand me that pipet.” Josh reached over and grabbed it for him. “There was something growing inside of her. But do you remember how things grow?” “With food,” Josh answered. He smiled. “That’s right. Well, your sister kept giving it food, so the doctors couldn’t stop it from growing.” “But if it was so bad, why didn’t she stop feeding it, Dad?” “She tried”, his dad’s voice croaked, eyes misting over. “She tried so hard, Joshy. But it wasn’t that easy. She tried to starve it, but she couldn’t.” “But why not?” Tears rolled down his father’s cheek. “[i]She[/i] was the food, Joshy”, he choked. Josh sat stunned, dumbfounded from seeing his father cry. Mr. Polla kneeled down, placing his hand on Josh’s shoulder while looking at him through tear-soaked eyes. “Don’t become food, Joshy. You understand? Don’t ever become food.” Despite his youth, Josh nodded in understanding. Josh shook off the memory, coming back to reality. His vision split into three different cameras, each in different locations. The first, the largest screen, was here in the beach house. The second appeared to be walking through a neighborhood, and the third was riding the OPTRAN. “Which one we looking at?” he asked. “Camera three.” He raised two fingers and enlarged the third screen, filling his view.[/spoiler] 3. [spoiler][quote] Soon after his sister died, Josh’s father had achieved his greatest scientific breakthrough yet: the formula for converting brain waves into binary. The blur of events that followed was surreal. Thousands of articles published, hundreds of conferences attended, interviews shared over news feeds for days and weeks, strangers coming to visit day in and day out. Money flowed, granting the Pollas more freedoms than they could imagine, soaring together to R5. Everybody was following Mr. Polla and his golden child, eager to see what they would do next. It wasn’t long after that his father, armed with funding, developed his very first prototype: “Josh’s brother”, he’d jokingly named it. Josh was frightened the first time he had seen it. It’s frame looked like something out of a nightmare. Eyeless sockets gazing around the room, arms thin tubes of plastic and metal more akin to bone and marrow. Mr. Polla had noticed his son’s apprehension and drew him close, patting him on the shoulder. “Give it time, Joshy. It’ll grow on you.” The subsequent iterations grew better and better, synthetic skin and muscle filling out the bodies with the face becoming more and more lifelike. Josh drew consolation from the fact you could still tell it wasn’t human. But that had disappeared the day he heard his father breathe “It’s perfect”. This one [i]was[/i] perfect. There were no flaws, save that it carried the data of a human’s brain. It could think for itself, moving and speaking like Josh thanks to the binary conversion his father had created. It mirrored Josh’s mannerisms, his nervous tics, his train of thought. It was Josh, only better. He had brought the press over, who excitedly shared what they dubbed “The New Humanity” and “ The End of Death” with the rest of the world. The Pollas’ ratio skyrocketed to R6. They moved into the beach house and settled in for a hopeful future. They were beyond the problems that plagued them before. Science could solve anything life threw at them, even death. His father, along with his other many discoveries, had also figured out how to connect the viewer to the machine too. As Josh “walked” through the neighborhood, he turned the camera down. Grabbing his right hand, he gently peeled back the colored synth around his wrist to reveal the tubes that carried electrical impulses to his fingers. [i]Why did you have to leave me? We had everything and you left me.[/i] Josh had wrestled with it for many years, replaying the scene over and over in his head. He had returned with lunch, calling out for his dad to get some grub. Upon seeing nobody, he put the food on the table and headed down to the lab, hearing nothing but the quiet hum of electricity. “Dad?” he called. He creaked open the lab door, immediately noticing stark red paint splattered against the far white wall. One of the newer prototypes had a massive hole throughout its mainframe, now smoking and completely useless. His eyes traveled down the wall to the floor. Dark mercury mixed with stainless steel, the blood congealing across the side of his father’s face, who’s hand rigidly clutched the silver handle of his gun. Josh screamed, pounding his father’s chest, begging for him to come back as blood pulsed with each successive pound out of the hole in his father’s head. When the the authorities later arrived and a diagnosis had been completed, it was concluded that it was indeed a self-inflicted gunshot wound. The lawyers had informed him some weeks later that his father’s will granted Josh complete ownership of all his father’s assets -- including his scientific works. He grieved for a long time while subjecting himself to isolation in his beach house. But after many months of anger and tears, the numbing had subsided and Josh discovered a whole new way to attract followers. [/quote][/spoiler]