Vanderbrew

So, I’m sitting here, trying to think up a good first line. I’ve written and thrown out a few, but nothing seems like it’s good enough to put up. I just keep thinking of my absolute favorite first line. The one that I’ll never forget and will measure all other first lines against.

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.” [1]

I’m impressed by this line because it’s simple. It doesn’t run on for three lines, stringing thoughts together with punctuation like beads on a thread.

I’m impressed by this line because it’s meaty. You meet two characters right away. One of them is running away. One of them is “bad” and the other is “the law” - though, I’ll admit this could be debatable. You get a sense for the environment.

I’m impressed by this line because the words are simple. All of the words are common. Two-thirds of them have a single syllable, the other third only two syllables.

I’m impressed by this line because it paints a picture. Instantly, you have some sense of what’s happening. The use of “followed” and not “chased” indicates a lack of urgency. The “man in black” isn’t just ahead of “the gunslinger”, he’s hours or days ahead of him. Maybe there’s just a black spec on the horizon, maybe it’s imagined. Whenever I hear “the gunslinger” I picture this grizzled old rawhide Clint Eastwood-type, flinty eyes staring out at the hardpan dryness ahead of him. A gun rests easily on his hip, a hat pulled low across his eyes. He turns his head and sends a small seed of moisture shooting towards the earth.

Ok, I’ll grant that I really know these characters because I’ve read the story more than once. I know what will happen. I know what “the gunslinger” looks like. I know who the “man in black” is. Yet, I still feel that this is a powerful beginning and I’ll continue to measure my work against it.

[1] The Gunslinger, by Stephen King - Book 1 of The Dark Tower

Steven crept slowly down the hallway, his blue blanket clasped tightly in one meaty fist and his eyes grown wide in his head. What was that sound?
Shuffle, bump.
There it was again.
He paused at his parent’s door. Silence. It was late. Moonlight streaming through a window showed that both clock hands were pointing to the right. Or was it left? He wasn’t sure.
Muffled thump.
His head jerked back to face the sound.
It was the closet.
Big slathering jaws. Sharp claws. Long raspy tongue. Lashing tail. Visions tumbled through his mind.
He crept closer. Mouth dryer with each step.
Now he was right in front of it.
Light scratching. Soft whining.
“Come here, Stevie…Come see me…Come let me out…”
The voice rang in his head. He shook it, side to side.
Against his will, he raised his arm. Saw it reaching out, grasping the nob, beginning to turn.
Then the door was swinging toward him, moving fast, faster than his arm was opening it.
A dark shadow leapt from the closet, crashing into him, knocking him down.
Wet streaks on his cheeks, hot breath in his face, weight on his chest, a scream boiling up from his chest.
Then a soft bark gives him pause.
He opens his eyes and sees the dog.
It’s Bandy, their terrier. He must have been sleeping in the closet.
Together they go back to Steven’s room, his terror evaporated - banished like the darkness when his light is turned on - and we are left to wonder at the power of imagination in a child.

Why is it that what is acceptable is tied to the medium it’s presented or viewed in?

I read a fair amount of science fiction. In the books I read I have no problem with obviously artifical limbs with metallic skin, special jacks in your neck to make it easier to connect with computers or special hardware inserted in your spine which records all of your life experiences and allows your memories to be transfered to a new body when your current one wears out - and yet, I have trouble with these bluetooth cell phone headsets.

I’m sure you’ve seen them. They’re these little plastic devices that people have clipped to their ear so that they can talk on the phone without taking it out of their pocket. I saw someone wearing one a while back and it stuck me as a ridiculous and obscene piece of technology. I mean, why does anyone need to be that connected to their phone? And then it struck me, given my preferred reading topic as well as my career choice and one of my main interests, why is this such a big deal? It’s just applied advances in technology right? Isn’t this what I want? Wouldn’t my ideal world provide the ability to plug a computer into my skull so that I can work without needing to type or move a mouse? Without being held back by the limitations of “meatspace”? Hmm…

I’ve thought about it off and on for a few weeks and maybe I’m not as ready for these technological advances as I thought I was. Maybe it’s ok to read about them in a book - to take a brief journey into another reality - but I really don’t want to live that reality. It’s odd when you think about it. Those little phone things are hugely less invasive than many of the things that I read about, but they struck me in a much more forceful way.

I suppose that it’s just the dichotomy of reality and fiction. What’s acceptable in the medium of a story is not in the medium of real life. On the other hand, I’ve read that Science Fiction, at it’s deepest core, only takes issues that are a part of today’s world and extrapolates them out. When we read science fiction, we get a view into the world as it could (perhaps will?) be. Maybe in 10 years we’ll all have a mobile phone in our ear with an induction mike pickup in our jaw. We’ll be able to sub-vocalize our phone calls and just dial by touching a tooth (wasn’t that in Spinal Tap?).

Maybe in 20 years we won’t think anything of climbing into an antigrav vehicle controlled by a central computer which whisks us off to a job where the first thing we do is receive an injection of a special pharmaceutical cocktail designed to allow us to focus on nothing but work for a 20 hour period before going home to a pill that let’s us live enough to interact with our family before getting 2 hours of compressed sleep (they’re working on slimming it down to 1, but the test patients keep going insane after 3.7 weeks of treatment) and waking up to a specially formulated energy drink designed to provide all of the nutrients, minerals and calories our bodies need to keep going (better living through chemistry, neh?) day after day after day, always moving forward, always reaching, never stopping to think about what we’re actually reaching for or why we’re doing it.

Maybe I’m pretty happy with the way things are.

092334: k@t/a: 0 shit?
092347: sp|1nTr: y - cul eh?
Math was boring as usual. Ever since her brother had taught her Algebra and Trig last year this baby stuff just couldn’t keep her attention. At least she could message with Katja and Mina.
092353: mina: But, you could have gotten really hurt!
092401: sp|1nTr: come’n m - i ! gonna get hurt - i 2 gud 2 get hurt
Geeze, Mina was so uptight sometimes.
092412: k@t/a: Mz lukin suspizious
092417: sp|1nTr: l8r
“Miss Sharan, are we keeping distracting you from more important matters with today’s math lesson?”
“Ah, yes, ma’am, I was just looking something up on my ‘puter.”
“Hmmm…yes, well, I’d appreciate it if you’d look up things on your ‘puter on your own time and paid attention to math on mind.”
“Yes ma’am.”

–

“Shit, Katya that cutter was hot! Where’d your cousin get it?”
“Damn, Sharan, you know I can’t tell you that. I don’t even know where he got it from.”
“Ha, acting the fixer already.”
“How do you know it was safe, Sharan? I mean, that corp could have tracked you back here. Or the signals monitoring here in the enclave could have detected the hacking attempt.”
Sharan sighed, she’d learned how to hide her hacks from the enclave’s SigMon goons last year after she got in trouble for those pizza crank calls. They weren’t a problem.
“Mina, geeze! Just relax for a bit. I didn’t get hurt, no one got into trouble! It’s all good.”
“Yeah, this time it was, but just wait - some time it won’t be!” Mina stormed off in a huff.
“Man, what’s up with her?” Sharan asked.
Katja looked at her feet and scuffed at a rock.
“What?” Sharan asked.
Katja, peered up at Sharan, a distant look on her face. “Mina’s got a brother.”
“Yeah? How come I never saw him?”
“Cause he doesn’t live here anymore.”
“And…”
“He was learning to hack, same as you. He got caught. Enclave gave her mom a choice. Disown him and kick him out of the house, or they were all out. Mina’s mom’s been on the street before. She didn’t want to go back.”
“Damn…that’s harsh.”
“Yeah, that’s the corp. Greatest friend in the world until you cross them or do something they don’t like. Then you better hope you got some value to offset your actions.”

Splinter screamed down the telecom lines, her neon blue hair streaming out behind her, imagining she could already feel the cold touch of the virus on her ankles. She’d been there, inside the core. Sure it was a small time mini-corp, but she’d actually hacked it - the cutter was actually worth what she’d paid for it.

Elation filled her as she saw the exit appear before her but then her heart dropped just as quickly. Bars of jagged static slammed across the opening, blocking her way. She broke left, chancing a glance behind her - yeah, the virus was still there. She seemed to have gained a bit on it. Maybe she could just mask and avoid it.

Potted plants, boxes, dark spaces - some sort of receiving and routing area. Splinter dropped down next to a purple cube with yellow slashes on it.

“I’m not here. You can’t see me. I’m not here. You can’t see me.” Whispering furiously to herself she held the picture of the cube in her mind. Eyes tightly shut, arms crossed over her head, chin tucked down into her chest, every fiber of her being focused on projecting an appearance of the box.

Milliseconds passed. Nothing happened. Without looking up she cautiously sampled her environment, stretching out her mind for any sense of danger. The alarm was still there, but sampled down. Calmer. She opened her eyes, peered out between her arms. No sign of the virus.

Carefully, she lowered her arms and rose to her feet. No reaction from the system. Splinter slowly left the room then strode purposefully for the now open exit. She moved through, like silk on glass and merged with the traffic outside.

—

Reaching up, Sharan unplugged the data cable from her head - the smart sheath curling it in her hands for stowing. Wow…that was close. Man, it’s never been like that before. A shudder went down her spine, then a curious tingle worked itself up. Close, yes…but she’d enjoyed it. Even the danger. It added a thrill that wasn’t there before. She heard her mom call - breakfast was ready, then she had to go to school. Oh, well, how many other nine year olds could say that they’d hacked a mini-corp. Boy was she going to have a story for Mina and Katja today.