Obsidian

By Roy Crowner

Living with the horror of a deceased sister and a clinically depressed taciturn brother, Gauge receives strict external communications from an anonymous person. Abiding by the instructions carefully concealed from the omnipresent surveillance imposed by the overseers, this protracted escape eventually leads him to a mysterious leader and his enthusiastic crew. Embarking on a foreboding adventure after escaping the clutches of unopposed tyranny, this intrepid team of scientists and explorers reap the rewards from the past generations assiduous work and dedication. Their novel space travel goes according to plan until a serendipitous discovery threatens to reverse every monumental feat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roy Crowner
• Release date: Feb 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311338365

Roy Crowner

This young writer was born in Massachusetts in 1986. He grew up with 2 sisters in Cumberland, RI, typical small New England town where mild summers and harsh winters are the norm. As a boy, the scientific realm deeply embedded in the physical world always fascinated him. He completed undergraduate studies at Providence College, earning a Bachelor’s degree in Biology. He went on to graduate school at the University of Rhode Island and has an advanced degree in Cytotechnology and Biotechnology. He hopes to work in the biotech field but at the same time pursues his love of creative writing. He has the unique ability to intertwine literature, science, and mathematics in a rare but fascinating way.

Book preview

Obsidian

By Roy Crowner

A science fiction story laced with horror elements

Copyright 2014 by Roy Crowner

Published by Roy Crowner at SmashWords

No part of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher, except brief quotations for review purposes

Cover Design by:

Roy Crowner

Artwork professionally constructed by author

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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The One -Liner

A blacksmith worker residing in a draconian society overruled by the overseers relies on external communications from an enigmatic source to provide for his escape.

The Background

Living with the horror of a deceased sister and a clinically depressed taciturn brother, Gauge receives strict external communications from an anonymous person. Abiding by the instructions carefully concealed from the omnipresent surveillance imposed by the overseer, this protracted journey eventually leads him to a mysterious leader and his enthusiastic crew.

Premise

Embarking on a foreboding adventure after escaping the clutches of unopposed tyranny, this intrepid team of scientists and explorers reap the rewards from the past generations assiduous work and dedication. Their novel space travel goes according to plan until a serendipitous discovery threatens to reverse every monumental feat.

On the crest of a secluded hilltop, sloped with the steel and iron of industrial power and marked by the resounding and rhythmic humming quietly seeping through the small dilapidated slums, was an interesting man perched on top, rousted by the deafening sirens beckoning all who had resided. Awakening as though it were nothing more than a typical event, he slipped out of bed and headed down the small halls renovated to an utter state of disrepair, where it’s only saving grace were the portraits of families and friends, there existence only a memory trapped in the gloom filled sordid space. Stepping through those very halls persisting with upmost degree of silence, the memories of the past became this great Roman candles burning away in the pale distance.

He thought about all of it each day, dwelling on the very important aspects of his life that had left him grounded in certainty, allowing thoughts to temporarily give off a sense of happiness when you knew none of it was real---anymore at least. But such essence would soon be scoured away by the uncertain adventures life would bring to you in this new world of glory and hubris. Beyond the protective walls shielding ones eyes from the dismal noxiousness coloring the air in shades of grey were the abysmal reigns of superiority and adversity. What lied waiting outside was a large cosmopolitan metropolis, and it was a place to fear and be respected by all of its residents combined. Every time you stepped outside, one foot beyond the other became a deeper dive into a precarious atmosphere lingering with inequity, servitude, and abuse, all supported and prospering under the bullies who had infiltrated and replaced every known institution. Those who had hungrily searched the myriad of alleyways, narrow streets, courtyards, and great buildings for the immortal remnants of a long erased and forgotten past when they should have been conducting their work in the mammoth factories stretching to no end and could be seen stifling with a heavy unfiltered air, were threatened incarceration and even death. Even those who were too weak to work within the hospitable conditions were not spared from the harsh domineering attitudes of their current employers, for they were usually publically executed or ostracized by the workers themselves. In those cases, no one would have tantalized the thought of aiding or rescuing the person from that inescapable poverty, and if he were to make the slightest implore, then the man would soon vanish into the haze like some clandestine spirit.

Dwelling on the very subject before the sound of the second siren that would roar throughout the slums, and going according to new friends, he recognized that many people living within this inhospitable melting pot had very short life expectancies. This piece of information was learned from his brother and sister Pursue, both of whom had given off a sense of pure energy and were some of the most amiable people he had ever known. They were the type of people who instead of focusing primarily on the many negatives composing this life, one could harness the positive experiences as a means of finding happiness and shower any joys onto other people when those people felt not single iota of such. Despite her pursuit of happiness though, she would soon become the seed of a dandelion motioning in the wind towards a barren landscape that would thwart the enchanted blossoming of a flower. At this very moment in time she was this dying flower, draping around the metropolis, a dark silhouette stationed in the sky and covering the surrounding area in a lasting darkness. But like everything else in this place, what was once to be remembered would soon be overshadowed by the brackish droplets of rain and clouds of ash.

She had died of pneumoconiosis, commonly named black lung, at the age of fourteen, and the many of those who had welcomed her presence for the joy she had seeded in the minds of those around her, had made the days of waking up to another days worth of work become even more unbearable. His brother was naturally much more traumatized by the news and after many days of overwhelming stress and with very limited time for Gauge to speak with his brother on the issues bothering him, he had rapidly found himself falling away from any modicum of normality possessing the sane mind.

He could recall his brother unintelligibly and silently talking to himself as if the windows of the industrial world had become his eyes, red carpet before each entrance his tongue, and the vibrant clashing and clanging pneumatics became his ears. Every memory and piece associated with him had been removed by the powerful barons, sitting upon their golden thrown and overseeing their monstrous institutions with a strict owl’s eye. And that watchful all-seeing eye had followed him, leaving no visible trail as the psychiatrists of some hoary mental asylum took up the reigns.

His brother sat at the edge of the bed facing the wall and staring blankly as though he was preoccupied, his mind teeming with thoughts swimming around in a vast ocean. He looked to have been searching the shadow of his former self, a vain hope soon severed by not a single revelation prospering from his efforts. In truth, nor did the sound of his voice overshadow the pleas and cries of help quietly surrounding them, for they were just as muffled and confused. Because of this, every facet of his personality was caged and from it, the dwindling freedom of his thoughts and actions was apparent, for there seemed to be no getting through to him. And time happened to be a very limited commodity in this booming metropolis.

Each day, seven days a week, he worked in the industrial complex, the loud dinning combination of steel sizzling, slamming, banging, and echoing throughout the large open space as an innumerable number of workers tending to their tasks with unflinching dedication. These were the only sounds you could hear at the time since it was strictly against the rules to converse with other workers out of fear that some quota would not be reached per hour. The railroads happened to be the only means of transportation, the veins and arteries of the metropolis, either staying within its prodigious boundaries or moving from local places to far away destinations across the North American plains. To the barons, it was an nonnegotiable rule of completing the new railroad system destined to connect this metropolis to one of greater magnitude, and among the sparks spitting with a hateful temper so did the other men, who continued to bang away with mighty blows to the flaming steel, share the same vision. But things weren’t like this, because on the contrary this mass of slave labor was only a figment of one’s imagination. The stuff you read about it in history books, especially during the early 20th century, a time when the great wars had pushed for the development of industrial war depots of goliath proportions.

Before the hands and feet of men were exploited in mass, the precise and mechanical working arms of technology had molded a world very different than the one experienced in today’s period. With such a high degree of sophistication, they were able to like some pure choreography, create many of the railroads already existing. But he or his brother and sister did not experience such a world, nor did his parents, or grandparents catch even the slightest passing glimpse of it. No, its existence could only be seen and felt through the words of history books and the images they evoked. Unfortunately, this was only to last a little more than a few decades, for the economic climate, writhing in debt, had sent violent shockwaves through the industry. The private sectors in favor of small business that had kept the country floating high above the rolling ocean plains had become consumed by the rogue wave that not could have predicted of happening in long term. When no money making source could be sought, not the black gold from the frozen permafrost lands or anywhere high north below the Canadian border, and the prices of gas, an indispensible asset in fueling the precise motions of the working machinery driving an unending system of railroad production, had succumbed to a quick and painful death. The inner space had become nothing more than a carapace, carved out by the power of the almighty dollar, as the great baron’s of such institutions had liquidated every last piece of machinery to be molded by a mass of human hands.

It was amazing yet gravely upsetting to have read about how a world can change so much, and to think that the working climate was the only thing to have suffered would be a great delusion. No matter where you were or what you were doing, there was no way to hide from one piece of technology to have seemingly been spared. They were hiding in the most hidden of places. Seemingly, because there was no telling if they truly existed or were just rumors to have survived for a long time to any form of scrutiny. If they did exist, each of them would be like some insidious watchman; you had a feeling you were being watched but the thought of not knowing had lead to increasing levels of stress, as if they were preparing to catch you doing something wrong. To many if they had existed, an appropriate title to their very menacing presence would dub them The Order, for not a single soul had dared deviate from what was considered the norm. To make matters even more depressing, they were believed to have infiltrated the most private of places; your own home---kitchen, den, dining room, bathroom, bedrooms, and even the attic--- were being viewed by a torturously all-present eye.

Because of this, a day to him was this ballet of routine exercises, where no pondering of anything different could be entertained. However, whatever occasions of free time that could have been used for himself was instead applied to being the best brother he could be to his other brother, whose mind was lying in a dangerous wasteland, the antithesis to self-determination and self-confidence. Sitting in a chair angled to the left of his brother, he tried easing his sufferings by secretively releasing heart-felt words of comfort. But the dams of his ears once allowing the flow of words to gently tumble down the canals were sealed tighter than reinforced steel. Though it just so happened the sleeping quarters of this ward were institutionalized with arching structures resembling the halogen lamps found on computers desks. These mantled parallel to the walls above each headrest would with its flexible arms arch downward through the press of a button directly below. Knowing what these were used for, he stood up and calmly walking towards it, and gave the button a hard push, sending the large structure towards the feet end of the bed.

Moving with a well articulated motion, a release of small humming waves invisibly transmitting longer than the most direct path and soon propagating from a circular rail above their heads, and an LCD panel with a white background was releasing ten second slides in careful coordination, showing black bold printed words lying at the center in addition to a solid state mask gently covering the eyes and nose of his brother’s face. Even more unexpected were the hyperdermic jaws resembling a similar homology to that of a large beetle that may have been used to insure the patient was calm and safe, but had left the man sitting down a bit revolted by it. Turning away he focused on the first slide that had given pithy instructions any man of innate intelligence could understand, followed by one of the most fundamental questions. You’re name? presented the next slide. Saying the word while giving the machine a furtive glance, it spat out some text clearly stating, you are now permitted to communicate with your patient and everything is being recorded for analysis of compliance and proper discretion.

Thinking beforehand as to not create an ambiguity in the meaning of his words, he had revealed a great deal of concern and compassion for this young man’s misfortune.

Gauge: If you can hear me and I know you can, I want you to know I understand what you’re going through. We’ve always been like two rivers meeting at the same point. Always agreeing on issues we should have thought different about…and it doesn’t matter how much you’ve changed. You’re still that same person to me…and I’ll never think differently. He thinks for a moment, summoning relevant events while his eyes quickly glided to the floor and back towards his brother. I’m sure you probably remember that time you lent me some money when I was running short. It wasn’t something I expected, but wasn’t surprised knowing you were kind enough to do it. Even if you don’t recall, I‘m sure you remember that heated argument you had with Cole. You were so mad, there was no doubt in my mind that your would have spun his top so fast it would have been spinning as fast as the Earth spins on its axis. I was equally angry, but even when you wanted to argue with me over knocking him out cold, you loved me enough to see and accept my opinion.

Brother: His body slightly paused in motion, his hands began tiresomely rising towards the keyboard panel and each stroke seemed to have taken a great deal of effort as a myriad of thoughts of his life’s timeline and all of its important events had taken hold. Slowly typing, his face hardened into a solid stone of disappointment and melancholy had been carved with the faint shimmer of some smile I’m glad you don’t think of me as a disappointment. I tried to be as strong as you, but I was only misjudging my own strength. Maybe I only left myself down but the outline of my memories still shine. Only the details are murky.

Gauge: At a time when their conversation was flowing with the force of sullen river, the mechanical device with immutable intelligence, stated without a slightest bit of compassion to be heard, Mr. Moore your session has just expired, please acquire your voice recorder disk. Knowing he was out of time, he gave his final say, and had expressed an ounce of bewilderment as he held the disk in his hand. Adverting his direction away from the device and towards his brother with a sickly sense of melancholy, he said, We’re all scrounging for something in this world and I know it’s frustrating to want something you can’t have. But take some rest in the thought that I’ll be here each Sunday…just stay strong for me and I’ll get you out of this.

At a slight drowsy walk out of the room, the large steel door like the violent shutting of a tome had slammed shut, allowing the loud and thunderous sounds to echo down the cold and impersonal halls of the ward, sounds that had temporarily muffled the cries of cruel insanity of which had perturbed Gauge enough as to make him shift his eyes towards those cries. Despite possessing a strong resilience when faced by the harsh realities of the great metropolis, this place of utter despair, had became a caustic reminder to that no matter how much strength a man possessed, this place like the thief in the night could have robbed him blind of it. Further distancing himself with each step those patients who had deeply begged for their former sane selves, their voices were that of shadows blurring in the distance of the large security hall dimly lit by overhanging lights, and in its seemingly infinite length, a small circle of light, nothing more than a prick, was drawing closer to the diameter of a radiant sun perched at its highest point in the sky.

When he had finally opened the doors, he had turned his head towards the sky, the shaking wisps of cool air tingling the nose and mouth, and the chilling drops of anxiety soon evaporating from his skin, stood there and stared as if he had crawled his way out of the cave. Tilting his head back down and moving away from the ward, its goliath wings each curving, their width shrinking as they moved away from the center ward he had exited from, around the perimeter of the metropolis in opposite direction, there was a sign labeled Regale Park in front of him. Moving through Regale Park decorated with an amalgamation of different artifacts related to machinery of a past time and inventions, their hollowed shells not dispersing the life they once possessed. But upon paying attention to his surroundings, he spotted something of interest isolated and much more hidden in the background of the wing.

Knowing he had a quarter of an hour to leave this park before the long mouthed entrance closed shut for the night, where security had every right to as they pleased in this seemingly tranquil resort, this interesting discovery was pursued. In a hurry to accomplish what he has set out to do, he soon arrived at a great effigy, lying on a stone sinusoidal-shaped pedestal, believed to have been sculpted from copper, for the copper shell had for a long time been exposed to the air, creating a tainted green shell rife with crevices and cracks as though the pounding of some chisel had been exercised by unskilled hands. Although he desired to touch it for no other reason than to think that he could go back in an earlier time when the world was bearable, a time when the sound of familiar voices filled the air with an uplifting aura. Sadly though, there was no means of bringing this thought to fruition. Instead the four foot high electric rail in the shape of square had protected it from such desires, and the only aura of some past time could be felt through a bar relief slanted towards his face revealing a strange invention intended to cancel sound and video waves at any frequency. Reading the short biographical script deeply engraved in a brass plate to the right of the bar relief it read,

Robert Sound, born on May 25, 2112 in the outskirts of a once thriving genius society dubbed The Lightwave, had studied for many years as an astute student residing at Bright’s College for four years. Completing his college degree as an engineer at the age of sixteen, he sought for employment within a local metropolis referred to as Post City. Unable to find work in the city and because his eccentric personality became a roadblock to relating to the other members of a team when he was employed, he was left in poverty. This lasted for two years until he met a few acquaintances, each with solid engineering backgrounds, those numbers continuing to grow, and eventually lead to a fringe group working in a small isolated area five miles northeast to the city. Over many years of research and development, they were able to create a working prototype of the first universal noise cancelation device using infinite geometric sound wave patterns in one direction only. With great precision they were able to propagate inverted sound wave type bundles, where at this phase in their research patented and brought these developments to the Lightwave Institute of Technology, which upon further development had expanded the potential usefulness of noise cancellation technologies. He died from a massive pulmonary embolism at the age of 29. Though he wasn’t able to see his vision completely, other great minds had taken up the helm and managed to design and integrate universal noise cancellation technologies in homes, buildings, and all train depot stations."

Satiating his curiosity, he used the rest of his spare time to return home, and as a long distance between him and the mammoth gates progressed their closing was marked by a thunderous clap shaking the silence within the metropolis. Silent and placid were the two words closely describing the atmosphere of a nights walk through the narrow crooked alleys, slightly illuminated by the waxing crescent of a moon highly perched in the sky. Treading along the snaking road displaying a mixture of archaic stone masonry buildings and ones made of unbroken steel, the pale white light reflecting off the black jade windows and doors wasn’t allowing the passage of a single ray to silently sneak inside. The outside alleys, courtyards, and other public dwellings of