The noise continues for a few seconds more before gradually beginning to settle down. Once it was silent, the elderly gentleman continued. “Now, I know that we’re all busy with the current situation that we find ourselves in, however, we have all been assembled here by the Narrator to help figure out the plot to a certain story that we find ourselves involved with.”

The group started speaking all at once, causing the old man to raise his hands up for silence. “Please, guys. I know that you all have questions and concerns and they will be addressed in their proper order. Jocren, why don’t you go first?”

The young man with black hair and wings stood, “What I don’t understand is, why does Narrator need our help. He’s the one writing it afterall and we’re the ones playing the roles. If anything, he should be begging for our forgiveness for throwing us in the messes that we face onn a daily basis.”

“Yes, I agree and I understand, however, this current situation more benefits you than him, though it may not appear so at first,”

“Would you care to explain this in further detail, Fatheriam,” asked the floating sword.

“Certainly,” Fatheriam replied, as he slowly stroked his beard. “Have you guys been noticing that we’re not progressing very fast in the timeline? It’s like the scenes and the stages are barely getting completed and if they do get completed than it takes an awful long time to do so?”

“Well, yes, but is not that the nature of the story. Doesn’t the Narrator need inspiration to write the story and that only comes every once in a while?”

“My dear Sassy, you are partially correct. Occasionally, the Narrator will get a sudden flash of inspiration that is followed by numerous sets of bad writing. That alone is okay. It’s the nature of the beast. But what is not okay, is when the story goes flat and refuses to go anywhere. This is why the Narrator has enlisted our services. Besides all of this, we really don’t have a choice. What the Narrator says goes, goes. Next question.”

“Yeah, I have a question,” the man in the cowboy hat said,

“Yes, John.” Fatheriam replied. “What is your question?”

‘Who is that weirdo who has been starring and listening to us the whole time.”

It was during one of those long staring sessions, that Jake started seeing images appear before him. At first it was only one, but then it began to multiply. At first Jake was confused. Why would a bone chair appear in the wall before him, shortly after this, another appeared and then another. Soon there were four and they formed a semi-circle around a tall black podium. Jake kind of liked the chairs, though they were not nearly impressive as the ones he had in his personal collection. The podium though, that was a bit off. It was like he was going to be seeing a lecture of some sort and yet, he was the only one there. This however changed quickly.  At first there was no one, but within a blink on an eye, all the seats were occupied. The characters in front of him did not blink, did not move. It was as if they were puppets or a part of them was yet to download. Jake did not know why that word came it mind…it just seemed right. Slowly, they began to move. First it was the one on the left with the cowboy hat, he was young and cocky. Next to him was a floating sword. She was a long-pointed rapier, there was an air of confidence about her. Then came a man with wings on his back, he had long black hair that stood in contrast to his dark tanned face. Next to him, there was a broad shoulder woman of Asian descent. She was beautiful in a ruggish sort of way. Though Jake was certain that she could snap him in half within a second’s notice. Finally, in the center of the group, and elderly gentleman appeared behind the podium. Raising his arms for silence, he yelled, “Can I have everyone’s attention so that we can get started here?”           

He sat alone. Staring at the blank white wall. All the walls in the room were white, but Jake didn’t mind. The white blended with his mind, allowing him to think more clearer, deeper. All of this was fine. Not that Jake had anything else to do with his time, the drugs coursing through his veins made sure of that.

Not that he was a druggie or anything like that. This was court ordered. Something about him being a threat or a menace to society. Something like that. To be honest, Jake hadn’t really paid that much attention during the trial.  He could care less what the uncultivated swine thought of his ‘art.’ As for the death of that police officer, well. Jake viewed it as justified. Afterall, he was only protecting his masterpiece. Ultimately, the officer became part of his exhibit. Jake gave his life purpose.

But all good things come to an end and Jake knew that when he found himself surrounded, that this was the end for him. But the more that Jake thought about it, the more that he knew that Narrator was not done with him yet. Afterall, Jake was the Narrators servant, he was doing his masters work and Jake knew that it was the Narrators’ will that Jake get captured and sent to this four white- walled prison. Not that, this would be the end of his story. Of this, Jake was certain. This was a temporary home. One that he would leave when the opportunity presented itself, but so far none had. So, Jake played along, as he bided his time waiting to see what Narrator had in store for him next.

What to write about, I really don’t know. I guess you can call this a free write. I’m free to write about anything I want, but what if I don’t want to write about anything I want? What is I want to write about something in particular and I don’t know what that is…yet. I know that I’m growing concerned about what is going on in the world and yet, these problems, these threats of war and violence, seem to always come and go.  I wish that everybody could just get along. But that is not how this world works. People by nature are neither good or bad. But as they grow older. As they grow accustomed to surviving in their particular environment that shapes their focus.

Even the villain. The enemy is not evil from all point of perspective. More often than not, their motives are pure or justified. It only becomes wrong or evil, when it brings harm to others.

But then this thought alone, calls into question the morals of the heroes. They are always displayed as role models, as someone to look up to, but more often than not, these heroes are not any better than their counterparts.

In fact, most when it comes down to it are the same. What may I ask you is the difference between an, American soldier, a French soldier, a British soldier, a Russian soldier etc.

Nothing, absolutely nothing. They are all soldiers. They’re nationalities are different and thus their allegiances are different. So, if any of these countries go to war with each other, who is right, who is wrong. Who is the Hero, who is the Villian?  It all depends on your personal perspective.

But for these soldiers, they do as they are ordered. In their own minds, they are the heroes, the ones who are attacking and the ones who are defending. Now things could happen that could change the mind set of these soldiers, butt for the most part – emotions and the right and the wrong rarely come in to play. Now of course, I could be speaking out of my ass, this is afterall my own opinion.

But let’s see if it can be simplified even further. Now as far as I know, I’m not the villain in someone’s story. As far as I can see, I’m a fairly well-liked guy, a bit of an odd ball, but what else would you expect for the artistic type. Anyway, all that can change with one simple action. For example, when I’m driving to work, I accidently hit a child as she or her runs out in the street to get a ball or I get distracted and cause a major accident. Where several people die…did I just become the villain of their story or perhaps something tragic happens to my wife or my nieces or nephews…. And I decided to justify this wrong…have I now become the villain or the hero…it all depends on what follows afterwards?

I guess what I’m trying to say is that most villains didn’t stat out villains. They started out as heroes, visionaries, common people who wanted a better life for their people.  Perhaps somewhere along their journey they crossed the line. But who’s line did they cross. That I believe is the real question

In conclusion, there of course will be those who do senseless violence and for that, no matter their reasons, must be held accountable, but then there are those who are branded villains simply because they don’t fit into a certain agenda and finally there are those who see an injustice and decide to take a stand and in doing so invoke the wrath of those who call the shots from behind the scenes.

So, then the problem becomes, who do you trust and who do you not trust? This where common sense and research come into play. Either side will try to convince you that they are right. View both opinions with an open mind and then decide what you believe is right or wrong. That is all this comes down too and now I’m getting tired. So, I’m going to correct this, post this and then go to bed.

This is not what I intended to write tonight, but it is what came out. I believe that this is the opening page to the second novel in the Project November Series. So, if you like it, let me know- Richard Polk

It was a cold winters night. Jack pulled the flaps to his parka up to his chin, to still the chill that he knew was coming.  It had been a little over a year ago that Jill had disappeared, and he was still dealing with the blow back from the events that had unfolded. Jack was no longer a fugitive, thanks largely in part to the secrecy of Project November and the important role he played in keeping it functioning. Of course, certain concessions had to be made, for starters he had to dismantle the prototype that Jill and he had scrapped to together that was responsible for sending her into the digital world. This was fine with him, in fact Jack had expected that to happen. One cannot simply fire of a powerful laser that has the potential to obliterate everything in its path and not be noticed.

Jack stared out of the military barracks and to the security fence that has housed the compound that he now called home.  Yes, he was no longer a fugitive, but neither did he have his freedom. This was a concession that he had to grudgingly agree to, if he wanted to keep himself out of some small dark hole in the ground and the two his two baby sitters that went everywhere he did. Well, they were there for his supposed safety, though Jack always assumed that they were there to make sure he stayed out of trouble. Not that he was going to cause any, Jack knew that he was where he needed to be when Jill would eventually reach out.

“Smoke break is over sir.” One of the guards said to him

Sighing, Jack looked at the unlit cigarette in hand and tucked it back into the carton. He had the same pack for the past couple of months. Jack had never been much of a smoker, he had only bought the pack at the PX (Post Exchange), so that he had an excuse to go outside.

But of course, there was limits and one them was that there was a mandatory curfew at 1 am. Jack was not fond of this, lately he had been doing his best thinking at night, but rules were rules and Jack wasn’t just about ready to break them. Turning around, he took long quick strides to the door, completely ignoring the guards that were at his heels. Jack returned to the lab where his nightly experiments awaited him.

There is not much time to talk. Words are like gold that drips from my fingertips as they tap the keys on the laptop, that is not sitting on my lap, but is instead resting comfortably on a desk in a poorly lit section of a room- a room that is divided in half- one section office/writing area and the other guest room, that is still in the process of being completed. It is functional, but not complete.

But alas, that dogs think they need to go out again- when do they think they don’t need to go out.

Out-going out. I wish that I could go out…not to work. I do to much of that already, no. I want to go out on the town- though there isn’t much to do in this town – what I mean to say, is that I’d like to go out and do something random, something where I can damn the consequences- just because. But am I doing this already?

Isn’t this what writing is all about? – there is a little black and white dog that insists on being on my lap. This makes it hard to write- and she just jumped down….

Now where was I, rubber ducks. I love rubber ducks. I think they’re cute. I don’t care much for regular ducks. They’re okay…. Penguins now, I love penguins. Especially the short fat ones. They’re cute when they wabble. But of course, my favorite animal is dogs. I even like the short annoying ones, they’re not bad dogs…though they’re not overly friendly if they don’t know you. I believe that….

Ha Ha- my wife just said I was funny. I know that one day my natural talent would be recognized- though I’m not quite ready to go on tour yet.

But this is all I have time for…. these randoms blurbs that are either pure gold crisp apples, ready for consumption or else pure rot, fit for nothing but the garbage can.

Sincerely,

Richard Polk

Do not ask how I am feeling

You should know that answer

I bend myself over backwards

And then you demand that I do it side ways

We are not lovers, you, and I

What we have is a matter of agreement

I work for you and you pay me for my time.

That is all you are to me.

You make it sound like we are all one family

And yet, there are clearly more favored than others

So, do not ask me how I am feeling

Ask yourself instead.

How would I like to be treated this way

How would I like to be used and abused and then demanded more of?

With still the same compensation as before….

If you answered no, to these questions,

Then perhaps you are just like me…

And this we can share as a common bond

However

If you answered yes to any of these,

Then I hate to inform you,

That you are either delusional

Or simply management

And in this case my friend

It appears that you are already lost

So do not ask me how I am feeling

Unless you really want to know the answer

Here, Dr. Rotter looked out over the audience. “That is the last entry of the Hop Along Nation. As you well know, the nation thrived for three hundred years, before unanimously deciding to perish with their planet in the great boil of 2023 AC. But as I stated before, they choose to do this. When there was already a plan in action that would’ve guaranteed their safety and well being for generations to come. All that was required of them was to give up some minor rights, but in return, their housing, food and other daily necessities would’ve been provided for. These rights, as some of you very well may know- was more of a truce between nations. However, the problem came when the cost of the mega aquarium was revealed and it was discovered that neither nation would be able to cover even a quarter of its construction. However, it was determined at the meeting of the Host of Nations, that the thirty- one member nations would build the aquarium for the Hop Along Nation, if they would consent to giving up their worthless property and other worldly possession they had acquired. At first peace talks were going swimmingly, but that all fell apart after the second condition was revealed. The Host of Nations, thought it would be a fair idea to open the aquadrome for the general public, to show how the Hop Along Nation went about their daily lives. A modest fee would be charged, that would then be used to pay for the up keep of this nation’s life of luxury.

The representatives of the Hop Along Nation blatantly refused, stating that they would rather give up their lives, then concede a few simple rights. After this, the nation refused any more help and chose instead to isolate them and their children from their would-be saviors. A few short years later, they all perished with their dying planet.

Now, as I mentioned in the beginning, all of this could’ve been prevented. If they had chosen to take the help offered them, then fine. But if they had refused, then I personally believe that they should have been forced to take it. Afterall, if a creature who is not as fortunate as the rest of us, loses their will to survive and self-govern, is it not our duty to become their caretakers? I ask you, my fellow Crowdidyians, no I beg you, please join with us and help prevent another civilization, though our lesser, from becoming extinct through self-harm. Rest assured that nothing has happened yet, but should we really take that chance.

Thank you for listening and I hope you have a pleasant evening.” Staring out over the stunned audience, Dr, Rotter smiled and lest the stage, as the crowd jumped to their feet and the sound of thunderous applause, bounced off the walls in the lecture hall. This was the kind of reception that he welcomed…no he expected and Dr. Rotter knew, that this was only the beginning.