Unconscious
09-28-2007, 12:29 PM
It's gone through numerous rewrites, and name changes, but I think I'm rather happy with this final copy. It's only the prologue, but I'm getting there eventually.
Tell me what you think - be sure to point out any grammar errors, if you can see any, or if things don't read quite right.
To Hell
Prologue
Hell.
That was the word that ran through John Carmack’s mind, as he gazed at the millions of lines of code before him. Why did he ever give up his placement on Earth? He was absolutely certain that he had never signed up to work for Betruger. He would have been much happier sticking with his preceding career; working for the Earth division of the UAC, working with code that, in contrast to his current post, was a piece of cake.
Carmack, truthfully, did not like the Deimos branch whatsoever. It was constantly damp within the facility, with dripping pipes and corroded metallic walls. Yet, it was much worse outside of the facility; with an atmosphere that humans could not endure, due to the lack of oxygen, and surely the low gravity would eventually drive you insane. From time to time Carmack compared the facility to the rest of the giant rock that the facility was built upon – he humoured his peers by stating that it was more liveable outside than it was inside.
Carmack was a likable chap; he got on quite well with all of his fellow scientists, especially Dr John Winston. Carmack and Winston had been friends since he first signed up to work for the UAC, over 15 years ago. John Winston was a rather remarkable gentleman. He was in his mid-sixties, and was quite well spoken; however, some found understanding him rather difficult, due to his thick European accent. Nobody was sure of Winston’s history; even Carmack, Winston’s closest friend, wasn’t sure. Some guessed that he came from Norway, whilst others said that he was born on Deimos, due to an unlawful love interest between scientist and mathematician. Winston himself had never actually made it clear.
Everywhere Carmack went in the facility; there was always something to criticise. When he was new on the job, Carmack thought he was just exaggerating and making a fuss about the living standards – but everyone who was employed at the facility was always depressed about the state of it, and couldn’t wait to go home.
Carmack wiped his greying brow, and picked up a large mug of coffee that was carefully placed on top of a Union Aerospace Corporation coaster. He brought the cup of warm coffee up to his nostrils, and inhaled deeply in an attempt to prepare himself for the awful flavour that was to come.
He lowered the cup away from his nostrils, and to his mouth. He pressed the mug against his lips, yet again preparing himself for the taste, before raising the cup and drinking all of the coffee contained inside the mug at once. After he had finished drinking, he placed the mug back onto the coaster with a shudder. He sat still for several seconds recuperating, a look of complete disgust on his face.
He glanced back at the computer monitors; there were three, and each was completely covered in code, one for each aspect of the teleportation system. He thought that he’d better start working again, otherwise no progress would be made and Dr Betruger would almost certainly become angry with him.
Betruger was one of those people who no one would want to annoy – he had the face of a Pit-bull, and the attitude of one too; he was a balding old man with only a few wisps of grey wire as hair. He was described as being as grouchy as a gorilla in mating season. He was quite a sinister old man; most of those whom worked at the facility feared him. He always demanded more than could be given, always expected a little bit more; and he frightened employees into working harder, with threats of being experimented upon.
Dr Betruger had been in charge of the teleportation operation since before Carmack started. Nevertheless, his years of service did not come without criticism; his means of testing the system were more than controversial within the company and they had had numerous inspections from UAC officials; most of whom, however, were corrupt, and didn’t care about any controversial methods as long as the price was right.
Carmack was hired by the UAC to work on their teleportation system that the UAC had been experimenting with. The company did not only experiment with rockets and space travel, they also delved into more controversial scientific studies such as teleportation, genetic engineering and weapons production.
He had been working on the uncomplicated “Gateway Activation System” (G.A.S) before, but the UAC picked him out as being a talented individual and promoted him to lead programmer, in charge of the “Instantaneous Trip Structure” (I.T.S) as well as the G.A.S. It was a compulsory promotion – all Carmack could recall was being shipped off to Mars’ moons with only a few hours notice, over 10 years ago. He had received a placement on Phobos before he came to Deimos, and he had also spent a little time on Mars, although he had only spent a couple of days at either. It had been decided that Deimos, being the base of operations, should be the one Carmack received a position at.
Carmack leaned closer towards his monitor, and pressed one of the three small, oval buttons located on the underside of his desk.
“Send in the next subject,” said Carmack, whilst glancing at the enormous mechanical beast that was behind the reflective glass mirror in front of him.
That mechanical monstrosity was Carmack’s life work. What he, and the others, had been working on for all those years. It was the I.T.S, the machine that was designed to shift an object or being, from Deimos to Phobos instantaneously. It had two bulky metallic ovals on each side, neighbouring each other, and one patterned, elliptical slab of metal which served as a standing platform for the person or object that was to be teleported. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of wires surrounding the apparatus, all of which led through a gap in the wall – to another part of the facility where the main board was kept. To the left of this apparatus there was an enormous spherical entryway. It was one of the many invulnerable high security doors that were scattered throughout the facility.
Carmack looked back at his computer monitor and began drumming at his tatty, grimy keyboard. He did a little bit of work to each screen. This work, however, would look like childish scribbles to any normal man, but not Carmack. He understood the system perfectly, unfortunately for him. Hesitantly, he pressed the return key one last time, causing a thunderous roar to emit from the room through the reflective glass.
After a couple of minutes, the speakers – which were attached to the wall on black, metallic stands – let off a ring, quickly followed by a computer-generated female voice.
“Dr Carmack, specimen six is on its way.”
Through the reflective glass, Carmack saw the bulky spherical door slowly open from the centre outwards. After several moments, it had finished its spectacular opening sequence. Several more moments passed until eventually Carmack heard the sound of feet approaching. Through the doorway came a pair of armed guards, carrying a blood-spattered carcass, bound in barbed wire.
The soldiers dropped the man on the floor, who laid there twitching for several moments.
“On your feet.” ordered one of the guards.
The man was basically skeletal; this was one prisoner, who actually made Carmack feel sick.
The prisoner was completely drenched in blood; Carmack was used to this, though. Most of the prisoners had undergone some form of brutality before the testing phase. Carmack ceased to care any longer.
The man slowly rose to his feet, in understandable pain. The unkind wire was cutting deeper into his skin, as he attempted to stand.
The man was wearing a blood-drenched orange boiler suit; he was clearly a prisoner of some description. He examined the room with a dazed expression on his face, panning from left to right, and then to the left again; he did this for several minutes, until he eventually lost interest, and started to stare blankly in front of him.
“Get your fucking arse onto that damn stand!” ordered the other guard, kicking the prisoner right up the buttocks, towards the I.T.S. The prisoner cautiously shuffled over to the gadget and stood on the platform, despairingly.
“I trust we’re nearly ready to begin?” asked Carmack impatiently, through the microphone on his desk, this time, pressing another little button that was clearly linked to the interior of the apparatus room.
One of the guards through the glass window nodded.
Carmack opened several applications on his desktop computer, one of which was an audio link to the base on Phobos, the others merely devices to study the voltage the machine was using and the strength of the link between Phobos and Deimos.
“Phobos Delta, we’re ready to transmit. Are you ready to receive?” asked Carmack, through the microphone.
“Roger that, Deimos Delta, ready and waiting,” replied a loud, clear voice through the speakers.
Carmack hit a large, purple button on his desk, and then typed his password into the computer. Carmack had always liked the idea of passwords; it made him feel like he had a bit more privacy than the others. Most of the data on the computer terminals was unencrypted and easily cracked into, whilst Carmack’s computer was one of the most secure in the base. Carmack understood why – this computer, in the wrong hands, could be put people in serious danger, not just the employees on Deimos, but all of mankind.
Once the password had been inputted, Carmack tapped the return key. It had become very loud all of a sudden; there was a loud hum in the background, as well as a beeping of machinery coming from the room through the glass, neither of which had been there moments earlier.
Carmack watched through the glass, studying the man closely. He glanced over at his monitor – so far so good, voltage levels were normal, and the link between Phobos and Deimos was well in its recommended zone. Not that it would matter; they would continue this experiment even if there was no link between them.
There was a flash of emerald light and then, as if by magic, the man had vanished.
Tell me what you think - be sure to point out any grammar errors, if you can see any, or if things don't read quite right.
To Hell
Prologue
Hell.
That was the word that ran through John Carmack’s mind, as he gazed at the millions of lines of code before him. Why did he ever give up his placement on Earth? He was absolutely certain that he had never signed up to work for Betruger. He would have been much happier sticking with his preceding career; working for the Earth division of the UAC, working with code that, in contrast to his current post, was a piece of cake.
Carmack, truthfully, did not like the Deimos branch whatsoever. It was constantly damp within the facility, with dripping pipes and corroded metallic walls. Yet, it was much worse outside of the facility; with an atmosphere that humans could not endure, due to the lack of oxygen, and surely the low gravity would eventually drive you insane. From time to time Carmack compared the facility to the rest of the giant rock that the facility was built upon – he humoured his peers by stating that it was more liveable outside than it was inside.
Carmack was a likable chap; he got on quite well with all of his fellow scientists, especially Dr John Winston. Carmack and Winston had been friends since he first signed up to work for the UAC, over 15 years ago. John Winston was a rather remarkable gentleman. He was in his mid-sixties, and was quite well spoken; however, some found understanding him rather difficult, due to his thick European accent. Nobody was sure of Winston’s history; even Carmack, Winston’s closest friend, wasn’t sure. Some guessed that he came from Norway, whilst others said that he was born on Deimos, due to an unlawful love interest between scientist and mathematician. Winston himself had never actually made it clear.
Everywhere Carmack went in the facility; there was always something to criticise. When he was new on the job, Carmack thought he was just exaggerating and making a fuss about the living standards – but everyone who was employed at the facility was always depressed about the state of it, and couldn’t wait to go home.
Carmack wiped his greying brow, and picked up a large mug of coffee that was carefully placed on top of a Union Aerospace Corporation coaster. He brought the cup of warm coffee up to his nostrils, and inhaled deeply in an attempt to prepare himself for the awful flavour that was to come.
He lowered the cup away from his nostrils, and to his mouth. He pressed the mug against his lips, yet again preparing himself for the taste, before raising the cup and drinking all of the coffee contained inside the mug at once. After he had finished drinking, he placed the mug back onto the coaster with a shudder. He sat still for several seconds recuperating, a look of complete disgust on his face.
He glanced back at the computer monitors; there were three, and each was completely covered in code, one for each aspect of the teleportation system. He thought that he’d better start working again, otherwise no progress would be made and Dr Betruger would almost certainly become angry with him.
Betruger was one of those people who no one would want to annoy – he had the face of a Pit-bull, and the attitude of one too; he was a balding old man with only a few wisps of grey wire as hair. He was described as being as grouchy as a gorilla in mating season. He was quite a sinister old man; most of those whom worked at the facility feared him. He always demanded more than could be given, always expected a little bit more; and he frightened employees into working harder, with threats of being experimented upon.
Dr Betruger had been in charge of the teleportation operation since before Carmack started. Nevertheless, his years of service did not come without criticism; his means of testing the system were more than controversial within the company and they had had numerous inspections from UAC officials; most of whom, however, were corrupt, and didn’t care about any controversial methods as long as the price was right.
Carmack was hired by the UAC to work on their teleportation system that the UAC had been experimenting with. The company did not only experiment with rockets and space travel, they also delved into more controversial scientific studies such as teleportation, genetic engineering and weapons production.
He had been working on the uncomplicated “Gateway Activation System” (G.A.S) before, but the UAC picked him out as being a talented individual and promoted him to lead programmer, in charge of the “Instantaneous Trip Structure” (I.T.S) as well as the G.A.S. It was a compulsory promotion – all Carmack could recall was being shipped off to Mars’ moons with only a few hours notice, over 10 years ago. He had received a placement on Phobos before he came to Deimos, and he had also spent a little time on Mars, although he had only spent a couple of days at either. It had been decided that Deimos, being the base of operations, should be the one Carmack received a position at.
Carmack leaned closer towards his monitor, and pressed one of the three small, oval buttons located on the underside of his desk.
“Send in the next subject,” said Carmack, whilst glancing at the enormous mechanical beast that was behind the reflective glass mirror in front of him.
That mechanical monstrosity was Carmack’s life work. What he, and the others, had been working on for all those years. It was the I.T.S, the machine that was designed to shift an object or being, from Deimos to Phobos instantaneously. It had two bulky metallic ovals on each side, neighbouring each other, and one patterned, elliptical slab of metal which served as a standing platform for the person or object that was to be teleported. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of wires surrounding the apparatus, all of which led through a gap in the wall – to another part of the facility where the main board was kept. To the left of this apparatus there was an enormous spherical entryway. It was one of the many invulnerable high security doors that were scattered throughout the facility.
Carmack looked back at his computer monitor and began drumming at his tatty, grimy keyboard. He did a little bit of work to each screen. This work, however, would look like childish scribbles to any normal man, but not Carmack. He understood the system perfectly, unfortunately for him. Hesitantly, he pressed the return key one last time, causing a thunderous roar to emit from the room through the reflective glass.
After a couple of minutes, the speakers – which were attached to the wall on black, metallic stands – let off a ring, quickly followed by a computer-generated female voice.
“Dr Carmack, specimen six is on its way.”
Through the reflective glass, Carmack saw the bulky spherical door slowly open from the centre outwards. After several moments, it had finished its spectacular opening sequence. Several more moments passed until eventually Carmack heard the sound of feet approaching. Through the doorway came a pair of armed guards, carrying a blood-spattered carcass, bound in barbed wire.
The soldiers dropped the man on the floor, who laid there twitching for several moments.
“On your feet.” ordered one of the guards.
The man was basically skeletal; this was one prisoner, who actually made Carmack feel sick.
The prisoner was completely drenched in blood; Carmack was used to this, though. Most of the prisoners had undergone some form of brutality before the testing phase. Carmack ceased to care any longer.
The man slowly rose to his feet, in understandable pain. The unkind wire was cutting deeper into his skin, as he attempted to stand.
The man was wearing a blood-drenched orange boiler suit; he was clearly a prisoner of some description. He examined the room with a dazed expression on his face, panning from left to right, and then to the left again; he did this for several minutes, until he eventually lost interest, and started to stare blankly in front of him.
“Get your fucking arse onto that damn stand!” ordered the other guard, kicking the prisoner right up the buttocks, towards the I.T.S. The prisoner cautiously shuffled over to the gadget and stood on the platform, despairingly.
“I trust we’re nearly ready to begin?” asked Carmack impatiently, through the microphone on his desk, this time, pressing another little button that was clearly linked to the interior of the apparatus room.
One of the guards through the glass window nodded.
Carmack opened several applications on his desktop computer, one of which was an audio link to the base on Phobos, the others merely devices to study the voltage the machine was using and the strength of the link between Phobos and Deimos.
“Phobos Delta, we’re ready to transmit. Are you ready to receive?” asked Carmack, through the microphone.
“Roger that, Deimos Delta, ready and waiting,” replied a loud, clear voice through the speakers.
Carmack hit a large, purple button on his desk, and then typed his password into the computer. Carmack had always liked the idea of passwords; it made him feel like he had a bit more privacy than the others. Most of the data on the computer terminals was unencrypted and easily cracked into, whilst Carmack’s computer was one of the most secure in the base. Carmack understood why – this computer, in the wrong hands, could be put people in serious danger, not just the employees on Deimos, but all of mankind.
Once the password had been inputted, Carmack tapped the return key. It had become very loud all of a sudden; there was a loud hum in the background, as well as a beeping of machinery coming from the room through the glass, neither of which had been there moments earlier.
Carmack watched through the glass, studying the man closely. He glanced over at his monitor – so far so good, voltage levels were normal, and the link between Phobos and Deimos was well in its recommended zone. Not that it would matter; they would continue this experiment even if there was no link between them.
There was a flash of emerald light and then, as if by magic, the man had vanished.