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lowkeySo, you two -- I mean, nal_rene and mako_lies -- have posted alot of cool excerpts and WIPs. And in the spirit of keeping the faith... here's an excerpt from my WIP timetravelfixitfic!!!
"I lied," Rygdea said.
The Brigadier General was propped up against the counter, a home-brewed beer in his hand. His face was dark in the early morning light.
Hope sat at the kitchen table, a small stack of pancakes in front of him. Real syrup, real butter, even a steaming cup of real coffee -- it had probably cost Rygdea a month's worth of rationchips. But Hope wasn't feeling particularly hungry, and the young man took the interruption as an opportunity to mull the bite in his mouth.
Rygdea glanced up, a wan smile on his lips. "You shouldn't worry about anything. The device will take you back in time."
Hope finally swallowed. "But you said that -- oh." He thought for a moment, then started over. "So where did you go?"
Rygdea downed the rest of his bottle, then pulled down another from the cabinet. "I like to think that the rationing of refrigeration gives people a chance to really enjoy my beer. Cold masks its flavors."
Hope waited.
Rygdea took a hard look at the bottle, then a sip. He spat it out. "Who am I kidding. I don't even know anything about brewing beer. I'm just repeating what I've heard. Out there --" Rygdea swept has bottle outward, motioning toward the settlement "-- they drink this crap, and someone says its 'dark', or a 'stout', and everyone nods and says 'A good Pulsian beer, isn't? It really tastes like home, doesn't it?' Like fuckin' hell it tastes like home." Rygdea flung himself into the chair facing Hope. "Home was... well, it wasn't fuckin' this, that's what."
Hope tried to lighten the mood. "Don't tell me you went back to one of Cocoon's pubs."
The officer snorted, a little humor bleeding back into his face. "That's what I should have done!" He took a swig. "I went back to see Cid."
Once he had started, Rygdea didn't stop. "When the lab told me they thought they had a time-machine on their hands, we all agreed that until we actually had a plan, we shouldn't send anyone back. But I had to know. How long he'd been a l'cie, how much he had really believed in what the Cavalry wanted. If he'd always been a pawn.
"Finally one night, it all got too much," Rygdea continued, working himself up further. "Did you know that I had almost retired twice? But no, Cid kept asking me to stay on. I wanted out of this shit ten years ago. And now I'm the fuckin' de facto head-of-state. What the hell." He tipped the bottle back for another sip. "So I went back, to right before I executed Cid. We talked. And then I left when I heard the Cavalry comin'."
Rygdea lapsed back into silence, picking at the bottle in front of him. Maybe, Hope thought, Rygdea was remembering his talk with Cid, and maybe that was bringing him some measure of comfort. Was that was enough? Hope suspected that it had once been, but not anymore. Maybe, right after Rygdea had come back from the past, he had felt that everything was for the best, that he could close that chapter of his life and move on. But as the weeks became months and the months years... Cid was still dead, and humanity was still dying.
He slowly cut another bite. "Well, no harm, no foul. And now we know the device works."
"That's just the thing. I came back, and... Hope, who is my chief assistant?"
Hope scrunched his eyebrows. "Short girl, right? Kinda cute... Felicity Downs? Felisha Downs?"
Rygdea slowly shook his head. "That's what everyone keeps telling me. But I distinctly remember a man, Lieutenant Winters, being my aide-de-camp. And yet, according to the datalogs, Winters died in the Fall, and Downs has been my assistant for four years. So either that device of ours causes psychosis..."
"... or your short trip to the past changed something," Hope finished.
The young man stared at his half-eaten pancake. A shiver ran down his spine. "You held a conversation with a man who was about to die anyways, and somehow the future changed."
"Look at me, Hope." Rygdea had sat the bottle down, and his eyes were clear and angry and a million other emotions. "Whatever you do in the past will have an affect, and this world will be gone. And good fuckin' riddance to it. Just make sure you make a better one."
nal_rene and mako_lies -- have posted alot of cool excerpts and WIPs. And in the spirit of keeping the faith... here's an excerpt from my WIP timetravelfixitfic!!!"I lied," Rygdea said.
The Brigadier General was propped up against the counter, a home-brewed beer in his hand. His face was dark in the early morning light.
Hope sat at the kitchen table, a small stack of pancakes in front of him. Real syrup, real butter, even a steaming cup of real coffee -- it had probably cost Rygdea a month's worth of rationchips. But Hope wasn't feeling particularly hungry, and the young man took the interruption as an opportunity to mull the bite in his mouth.
Rygdea glanced up, a wan smile on his lips. "You shouldn't worry about anything. The device will take you back in time."
Hope finally swallowed. "But you said that -- oh." He thought for a moment, then started over. "So where did you go?"
Rygdea downed the rest of his bottle, then pulled down another from the cabinet. "I like to think that the rationing of refrigeration gives people a chance to really enjoy my beer. Cold masks its flavors."
Hope waited.
Rygdea took a hard look at the bottle, then a sip. He spat it out. "Who am I kidding. I don't even know anything about brewing beer. I'm just repeating what I've heard. Out there --" Rygdea swept has bottle outward, motioning toward the settlement "-- they drink this crap, and someone says its 'dark', or a 'stout', and everyone nods and says 'A good Pulsian beer, isn't? It really tastes like home, doesn't it?' Like fuckin' hell it tastes like home." Rygdea flung himself into the chair facing Hope. "Home was... well, it wasn't fuckin' this, that's what."
Hope tried to lighten the mood. "Don't tell me you went back to one of Cocoon's pubs."
The officer snorted, a little humor bleeding back into his face. "That's what I should have done!" He took a swig. "I went back to see Cid."
Once he had started, Rygdea didn't stop. "When the lab told me they thought they had a time-machine on their hands, we all agreed that until we actually had a plan, we shouldn't send anyone back. But I had to know. How long he'd been a l'cie, how much he had really believed in what the Cavalry wanted. If he'd always been a pawn.
"Finally one night, it all got too much," Rygdea continued, working himself up further. "Did you know that I had almost retired twice? But no, Cid kept asking me to stay on. I wanted out of this shit ten years ago. And now I'm the fuckin' de facto head-of-state. What the hell." He tipped the bottle back for another sip. "So I went back, to right before I executed Cid. We talked. And then I left when I heard the Cavalry comin'."
Rygdea lapsed back into silence, picking at the bottle in front of him. Maybe, Hope thought, Rygdea was remembering his talk with Cid, and maybe that was bringing him some measure of comfort. Was that was enough? Hope suspected that it had once been, but not anymore. Maybe, right after Rygdea had come back from the past, he had felt that everything was for the best, that he could close that chapter of his life and move on. But as the weeks became months and the months years... Cid was still dead, and humanity was still dying.
He slowly cut another bite. "Well, no harm, no foul. And now we know the device works."
"That's just the thing. I came back, and... Hope, who is my chief assistant?"
Hope scrunched his eyebrows. "Short girl, right? Kinda cute... Felicity Downs? Felisha Downs?"
Rygdea slowly shook his head. "That's what everyone keeps telling me. But I distinctly remember a man, Lieutenant Winters, being my aide-de-camp. And yet, according to the datalogs, Winters died in the Fall, and Downs has been my assistant for four years. So either that device of ours causes psychosis..."
"... or your short trip to the past changed something," Hope finished.
The young man stared at his half-eaten pancake. A shiver ran down his spine. "You held a conversation with a man who was about to die anyways, and somehow the future changed."
"Look at me, Hope." Rygdea had sat the bottle down, and his eyes were clear and angry and a million other emotions. "Whatever you do in the past will have an affect, and this world will be gone. And good fuckin' riddance to it. Just make sure you make a better one."
