By H. P. Lovecraft (01-11-19+17)
Just to continue the mini-theme on the blog relating to DayZ:
Was just mulling over a regular series for the blog (still pending).
First thought was to do a series of predictions in relation to technology, science, polotics and environment, but first thing I do is start research and find:
Just though I’d share 2020
2020 — America’s power shift is destabilising the Asia-Pacific region | Generation X is reshaping global politics | Internet use reaches 5 billion worldwide | The 5G standard is released | Texting by thinking | Complex organ replacements grown from stem cells | The first stem cell therapy for congestive heart failure | A cure for malaria | Progress with longevity extension | Genetically engineered “super” bananas | Ultra High Definition Television (4320p) is common in homes | Holographic TV is going mainstream | Africa and the Middle East are linked by a trans-continental bridge |Tokyo hosts the Olympic Games | Hong Kong’s Mass Transit Railway (MTR) has been significantly expanded | The first self-sufficient, car-free city in mainland China | Completion of the Fehmarn Belt Fixed Link | The UK has expanded its offshore grid connections | Smart meters in every UK home |Public smoking is banned across every US state | Coal is banned in Beijing | Mercury pollution has been greatly reduced | Glacier National Park and other regions are becoming ice-free | Britain’s new aircraft carriers reach full operational capability | 30,000 drones are patrolling the skies of America| Mars 2020 rover mission | BepiColombo arrives in orbit around Mercury | Video games with photo-realistic graphics | Expo 2020 is held in Dubai
I’m probably out of date and everyone got this one a week ago but anyway, what a glorious piece of sentimentalism.
It seemed like i’d spent days in the water, after jumping the rail from the ship, the infected were everywhere and I had no other options. Scrambling onto the beach and panting on the shore, just thankful for being alive but starting feeling the cold wind beginning to bite. In the distance the dull thud of a shot gun tells me all I need to know, the infected are here. Picking myself up, throwing both arms around me and shivering, looking up the shore I can see a small house a hundred yards to my right, keeping low, praying not to be seen, I creep closer, very aware that the t-shirt and jeans I’m wearing are lethally inappropriate for the late autumn weather, the only positive thought in my head: its not raining.
Slowly staggering to just outside the gate of the one story fisherman’s house I listen, the only sounds now are the birds and brisk wind, opening the gate wincing as it gives a loud squeak free swinging out of my hand and abruptly juddering with a loud tang against the metal stop. No point waiting, I need to get out of the wind, even though, as I just noticed half of the windows a broken, stumbling forward I try the closed front door and with a sigh of relief find its unlocked, opening the battered tarred door quietly my eyes instantly fall upon an old black woolen coat hanging on a hook to the right. Keeping it quiet and assuming from the broken windows and the stillness, there’s no residents, I pick up the musty coat and slip into it, as gratefully as I’ve even donned any garment. A thump against my thigh sets me to fishing inside the lining of one of the pockets: a care warn Swiss army style multi-tool with attachments. Starting to take in my surroundings, I note I’m probably not the first visitor, the food cupboards by the old iron stove are all open, one hangs swinging on one hinge. Looking further I see a table and chairs and door leading to internal room presumably a bedroom. On opening the door, the unmistakable stench of something rotten hits me, so quickly its closed. Just as I’m pondering my next move, I hear the pounding of soft shoes and a rasping of breath from outside, without thought I open the back door and run!!!
Five Minutes later and thankfully warming up from exercise, I have to stop, crouching, fighting for breath, just behind a holly bush. During my frantic dash I’d passed signs of societies breakdown, several cars abandoned on the road, i’d pounded across to get into the trees, with doors open and windows smashed. There’s an old grey pick-up just ahead. Pausing for a few more minutes while my breathing normalizes, to make sure I’m not being followed and to confirm there was no signs of anything else out there. I reflect on my options, practically naked and alone, with what only can be described as predatory human beings who’ve been infected by the virus that’s swept the planet, I can either give up and die of fight to survive, the radio had said that any contact with bodily fluids: blood, saliva can lead to infection so: don’t exchange fluids with the infected.
“ha ha ha” I’m loosing my mind, or am I returning to sanity, anyway “I must survive”, first a weapon, I feel the desperate need to get something to drink, as I’ve got stomach pains due to the salt I swallowed during the swim. That pick-up may have something useful, so risking a mad dash into the open I end up sat down on the forest side with my back to the drivers door, thankfully there’s no dead, looking up and down the road, I open the door, the first thing I see is a half empty bottle of mineral water, in the door pocket, opening it greedily, i swash it all back. Putting the empty bottle in my pocket. Next a rummage of the glove box brings up nothing but an old paperback, try the other side pocket, again nothing. Back seat nada. Jumping out, checking left to right to see I’m still in the clear, I stand up to have a look in the bed, again nothing, there’s is however a built in tool box just behind the passenger compartment, I open it and inside an old flat head screwdriver. It’ll do more damage than my bear hand so I grab at it and shove it in my trouser pocket.
Thinking I’d spent enough time in the open I run up the rise of the roughly forested hill and start jogging using the cover of the tree line keeping watch for more abandoned vehicles, other survivors and shuddering at the thought the infected.
Rough second draft may return later to expand or edit, but may not.
NB: DayZ is available through steam.
It seemed like i’d spent days in the water, after jumping the rail from my ship, the infected were everywhere and I had no other options, scrambling onto the beach I lay panting on the shore, thankful for being alive but starting to feel the cold wind starting to bite. Off in the distance the sound of a shot gun tells me all I need to know, the infected are here. Picking myself up, I throw my arms around me, shivering, looking around I can see a house about a hundred yards to my right, just off the shoreline, keeping low, not wanting to be seen, I creep closer, very aware that the t-shirt and jeans I’m wearing are inappropriate for the late autumn weather, thankfully its not raining. Stopping just outside the gate of the one story fisherman’s house I listen, the only sound the birds, opening the gate I wince as it gives a loud squeak and free swings out of my hand with a loud tang against the metal stop. No point waiting, I need to get indoors, even though as I just noticed half of the windows a broken, running forward I try the closed front door and to my relief its unlocked, opening it quietly my eyes instantly spot an old black woolen coat hanging on a hook to the right. Keeping it quiet and assuming from the broken windows, there’s no residents, I pick up the slightly musty coat and slip into it gratefully. Inside one of the pockets there’s an old army knife with attachments. Taking in my surroundings, I note I’m probably not the first visitor, the food cupboards by the cold old iron stove are all open, one hangs swinging from one hinge. Looking around I see a table and chairs and door leading to internal room presumably a bedroom. I open the bedroom door, and the unmistakable stench of something rotten hits me so quickly its closed. Just as I’m pondering my next move, I hear the pounding of soft shoes and a rasping of breath from outside, without thought I open the back door and run!!!
Rough First draft may return later to expand or edit, but may not.
Below Micro Short Story recovered from long forgotten blog:
THURSDAY, MARCH 10, 2005
The K drive gives one last static stutter and dies, a small red light starts flashing on the console, the whining hum of that usually accompanies normal ships operations slows and dissipates in to silence. The cockpit of the Aurora class deep space shuttle is dimly lit only by the yellow overhead emergency light. Through the front view port, a green and blue moon can be seen slowly drifting across a class seven gas giant striated with angry purples and reds. The silence is disturbed by an electronic hum coming from behind the door to the rear of the cockpit, followed by a clang, minutes pass and the door opens revealing a tall naked man with long unkempt black hair, yawning as he staggers towards the pilots seat, leaning heavily on the seat back and levering himself down and round in to it. Reaching out he flicks the red light, which immediately illuminates the cabin. Touching another button on the console brings a detailed heads up display across the view port showing the moon, planet and system in digital detail. Two small red dots on the display have white numbers displayed next to them and seem to be travelling between the second and third planets in the system. The gas giant and its companion lay in the sixth orbit of ten from the G type sun.
“All Quiet” he says to himself, punching in a few numbers in the keyboard the display changes to a magnified section of the moon, showing a valley near the equator buried in a heavily forested area, pressing another button the display shifts to the northern end of the valley displaying a large square concreted area with a scattering of small buildings surrounding a large round domed structure.
“Thought you could hide from us, did you”
The night was dark, with only the red glow of a setting crescent moon. The long grass on the plains, rippled and danced with a light breeze, and the low hills in the distance are dusted with a light silver sheen. The hoot of a distant hunting owl’s answered by his mate, and the low cough of a fox follows soon after, primordial, untouched and tranquil.
Along the road, down by the river, a soft rhythmic drumming disturbs the peace; a rider travelling fast, head down, shoulders hunched, a twitch and a sharp thwack of a crop, forcing the laboring horse to greater effort, the rider passes on. Minutes pass, the owls fly low across the river, landing in the branches of a great oak, the fox can now be seen sniffing at the deep divots settling from the horses passing. The foxes head lifts with a start, and it scurries off into the grass. Horses again, a group of seven riding at a canter moving out of the night and then slow to a stop. The largest man, sporting a bushy beard, dismounts with a clinking of armour and bridle, takes a long look at the flat grassland and says something to his companions, a tall skinny youth turns a restless horse and rides swiftly back along the road. The quiet men dismount, leading their horses a short distance into the grass and start to set a long picket line, unpacking securely bound travel packs from behind their saddles. The bearded man stretches, sits down on the bank of the slowly moving water, takes out a pipe, fills, tamps and lights it using a tinderbox, then starts to puff slow thoughtful clouds into the night.
Thirty minutes pass, the scouts have set their tents and fed and watered the horses and are lighting a fire, a sharp relaxed laugh punctuates the night, just as a low rumble becomes audible. Time passes, lights can be seen wavering side to side towards the woods the roads lets from. A lone rider drums the earth, as the skinny youth returns, dismounts, ties his horse and sits gratefully by the fire. The sergeant stands from his riverside reverie, seems to sigh and drifts over to the fire just as the pot’s lifted from the stand. They eat. The noise increases, a group of seven riders approach, drawing to a halt, the bearded sergeant stands, wanders across, says a few brief words pointing north up the road, and the second party of scout’s moves on.
The vanguard of the army can be seen more clearly now, 200 men riding horses lead the way, followed by laboring foot soldiers, behind them carriages sporting rich textured tapestries and stretching off into the distance thousands of souls all gathered for one purpose, war.
A large group of unarmored, men and women move ahead. A large man in a long robe starts barking instructions, the carriages, hastily moved forward, are directed to a small rise 50 yards behind the eating scout’s enclave, where men start to clear the ground, erecting tents and start fires.
“Ruminating on a novel start, or should it just be a picture.”