Five: Episode One is based off the following book excerpt from my science fiction supernatural thriller, Five: The Contingency Generation.
Earth , January 1, 2165
That’s typical. Instead of cocoa, I get blame.
I enlarge the holograph. Blame Logs are becoming my specialty.
Stupid machine. It’s always an operator error with you. God forbid an actual machine error.
Scanning the B. log, I realize the words say nothing about how to get the world’s most reliable 3D printer to make me a simple cup of cocoa.
Blame Log #12
Log Date: 1/1/ 2165
This is not a mistake. Although we’ve never met, I’m writing to you because we’re related. I’m your great, great, great grandmother. In relation to time, you and I live five generations apart. My world is doing well, but yours will soon end. Please read all that I send you. You’ll know what to do with it when the time comes.
Consider today’s message from me our introduction.
I was born May 5, 1958, but nothing much happened to me in those first 23 years that will matter to you. Once I started work, all I cared about was my job and the life that it brought me. I purposely chose to live half way across the country to avoid my mother.
Then my job was cut. Even though many people were out of work, I felt especially persecuted by this event.
Just days before it happened I’d lied to my mother and explained how I couldn’t come home for Christmas, because I was too busy at work. The truth was that my work was at a standstill. Then my boss gave me termination papers, and I found myself completely free.
Later when my mother called me, she told me her doctor was sending her back to the hospital. I knew she was hinting that I should come home. I couldn’t tell her about my job situation, because if she knew about my problems, then her impulse would be to try and solve them. I didn’t want my mother’s solutions. I wanted to live life my way.
After we talked, I began cleaning and organizing my kitchen to calm my nerves. My mind went in circles trying to come up with a workable plan. That’s when I heard the knocking.
When I opened the door, I found an unexpected delivery. It was a package on the floor, but no one was in the walkway.
Back then we ordered what we wanted, and it arrived by delivery in a box.
What I first noticed about the package was the word “self” hand scrawled in black marker across one end. The return address was from a familiar clothing store. Inside was a sweater I’d ordered for my mother for Christmas. The company sent the sweater to my address instead.
To me, the delivery symbolized a choice.
I remember tearing apart the box and specifically shredding the weird part that said “self”.
In anger, I vowed I’d be selfless. I’d spend all my savings for a ticket to fly home.
I’d be a good daughter and a good person, but all I really wanted that day was to be something else.
And that’s how it began.
Many packages arrived over my lifetime, and I was one of the few who could see the odd handwriting and catch the destructive intentions in the messages
Innocent deliveries became channels that could turn a recipient’s life sour. For example, bicycles became bragging rights, books became boasting, and clothes became cunning.
Still, ALL participants had a choice.
Most people ignore the tactics of the deliverymen thieves until they are no longer able to perceive them, but these robbers, who exist in a parallel world alongside normal trade, constantly work to hijack life.
My skills weirdly grew greater until I actually began to see the thieves at work all the time.
I guessed later that my unusual ability was a gift. Perhaps it was a talent given to me because I would eventually become a resident of Five—the name of the place where I live now and the realm from where delivery thieves first originated.
My mother had a different theory. She said my ability to see the messages was in me all along, but it became more useful after I studied and memorized words from The Book Of Wisdom.
Today, it makes no difference how I first came to discover the band of robbers and Fol’s treachery. It only matters now that you know the truth about them too.
They must be stopped.
You’ll hear from me again soon.
All my love,
“The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy. I come that they may have, AND enjoy, life to the full.” Book of Wisdom 43. 10. 10
The warning chime from the printer indicates that the holograph log will soon dissolve. Quickly I select “save” and then choose the option to print the message.
You’d better work this time.
This blog post is an excerpt from my supernatural thriller, Five, presented in rough draft version. The posts will appear weekly as my story development progresses. The story snippets will likely be full of typos, garbage, and confusion. I’m sure to regret allowing readers a sneak peak of the chaos involved in this process of making a finished book.
Someday, if I still have an audience, my book(s) and screenplays will be polished and for sale. Until then, my story snippets are free, but payment by “subscribing” with your email would be a nice gesture. For doing this you might get a discount on my purchasable work should that day ever arrive. All you get now is a notice via email of a new story episode that I have ready to read on my “blog.” I don’t sell my email list or do anything else with it.
Why am I doing this stupid and terrible thing—letting readers see my “off the cuff” story writing?
Book industry experts say that in today’s world of book marketing, an unknown author must build their own sales platform. I’m supposed to advance my platform by collecting readers, and for now, by blogging. Since I can’t imagine blogging about what I had for breakfast or the things my cat does, then instead, I’m blogging fiction excerpts of my work(s) in progress.
Thanks for slogging along. Maybe we’ll meet on a bookshelf someday.