How To Survive an Apocalypse:
Brains, Breasts, and Sheer Dumb Luck
--Daniel Rezendes
The world (as you know it) will end on November 7th, 2043. The planet itself will remain largely unchanged by and unconcerned about this. The biosphere will, after the blink of a few decades, be as strong as it had been a short 200 years before, when some overzealous simians started mucking up the place. No, it will only be the world of those simians that ends on what most of them decide to call November 7th, 2043, though most of them won’t realize it for several days or weeks. This is because most of this particular breed of simian makes a habit of not paying attention.
A few mutant members of this breed, however, do pay attention. The ones who do this all the time have long been judged insane and disposed of so the bulk of the species could go along its merry oblivious way. But some with a weak strain of this mutation can see what’s going on in occasional moments of clarity, but infrequently enough to still function. But whatever the degree of their mutation, these mutant simians will be the best suited to survive when the world ends.
Jen Anders will be one of these. In 2043, Jen will be an independent female capable of reproducing but unwilling to do so, who (unlike most of her species) spends most days at a job she actually enjoys (tax assessor).
At 8:38 AM (Eastern Time) on November 7th, just after Jen will wake up, the power will go out. Thousands across the world will die. Jen won’t know that; she will shrug and finish breakfast. At 10:30, the electricity will still be out, and she’ll decide to scout out the town to see how widespread it is and if anyone knows anything about it. The radio (a noise making device used to convey cultural propaganda) in her car (a widely used mechanical alternative to legs) won’t receive any signals. Not even Spanish stations. It is then she will know something is seriously wrong, and decide to prepare for the worst.
Nobody in town will know anything about it—nor will anyone else Jen ever meets. There will be numerous theories: a government conspiracy, an extraterrestrial prank, the ultimate hacker exploit, a massive solar flare, and (most popularly) one’s angry deity of choice (or that deity’s corresponding opponent, which really amounts to the same thing). Jen Anders and most of the other intelligent mutants won’t spend time dwelling on it. Jen will spend most of the first day buying nonperishable supplies, tools, batteries, and the like—the ‘normal’ part of her mind will say she’s being paranoid, but she will reason that it’s almost all stuff she’ll use eventually anyway. This is because Jen will have an innate understanding of the first rule of survival: being prepared for survival. She won’t honestly think at first the world has ended, but it’s the mutant ability to be prepared for the unexpected that will help mutant simians like Jen survive this apocalypse—just as it has all the previous ones.
On November 8th, the simians of the world will start to get nervous, even a little impatient. Jen will spend the day heading a neighborhood barbeque before anyone’s meat spoils, demonstrating another valuable survival ability—maximizing resources. Not only will this make sure the meat isn’t wasted, it will earn her the goodwill of her neighbors (a useful, if fleeting, commodity).
On November 9th, in the unprecedented absence of organized government authority, rioting will break out in major urban centers around the world, except one called Orlando where it will be far too humid. The mutant simians living in cities will take what food and supplies are left, while quite a few more (without the awareness mutation) will take televisions and DVC players and money other items they’ll still mistakenly assign value to. The wiliest mutants will have already left town—and were getting into the outer exurban sprawl like the one Jen will live in, bringing news with them. When word comes that the power loss reaches as far as the cities, Jen will be one of the first to realize that being near a big city when the food runs out would be a very bad idea.
Like all other adult members of her tribe, Jen will have a car of her own, a small ethanol-efficient thing used to get to work and visit her family on the rare occasion the mood strikes her (her particular mutation was a random one not passed down from her non-mutant parents, and anyone able to pay attention finds it difficult to maintain a relationship with those who cannot).
She will spend much of the afternoon of the 9th packing: layers of clothes for different weather conditions, food, water, money, personal documents, flashlights, batteries, duct tape (the single greatest achievement of her simian species, mutant or otherwise), sleeping bag, sheets, sewing kit, a lighter, her ex-boyfriend’s fishing gear (which she won’t yet know how to use), pots and pans and kitchen utensils, a first aid kit, toiletries, morning-after contraceptives and other medicines, and Captain Wiggles (a stuffed animal given to her as a child).
While packing, Jen will also be contemplating the limitations of the vehicle’s range and her lack of an actual destination. Despite repeatedly reassuring the neighbors who ask that the government will have everything fixed soon, Jen will by this point be preparing for a long haul. Most of the neighborhood will be so far into information withdrawal as to be completely useless, so Jen will have an active catalogue of the few people who are not checking their computers or televisions every third minute. The Starken family in the blue house down the street will have never used technology much, which will have led Jen and the rest of the neighborhood to assume they are part of some sort of spooky cult. Jen will know better than to deal with that, and further she won’t want to deal with children in a survival situation. The fifty-year-old couple across the street will be of a peculiar caste known as ‘rednecks,’ that never seem to do any work but somehow amass an impressive collection of expensive weaponry and partially functional partial cars. The arsenal and ability to make broken machinery technically functional will make the Reeds suddenly useful, even if Jen had never liked them much.
She won’t much like the idea of attaching herself to those two without someone to back her up, and she’ll have nobody obligated to do so since her boyfriend will have walked out a month earlier. But she’ll have someone else in mind—Todd O’Leary, the nineteen year old eagle scout living with his parents three houses down, who’d been mowing her lawn for free for four years and made friends with the boy who beat him up across the street, just so they could spy on her from his bushes. He had been most helpful at her neighborhood barbeque, stealing not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks glances at her not insubstantial breasts (fatty protrusions on the chests of the female of this species that triggers a form of hormonal insanity in the males, rendering them both aggressive and highly suggestible). Todd will be alone, his parents off on a cruise, and his family’s cabin in the woods conveniently empty. A visit in a low-cut shirt will be all it takes for Jen to win herself a useful post-apocalyptic manservant.
They will leave that night, while most of the neighborhood is asleep and the roads are relatively empty, the Reeds in their trailer following Jen and Todd and his awkward hormonal silence in her car.
Around dawn on November 10th, Jen’s little convoy will pull well off the freeway to sleep. During that day, the rioting will worsen, and in about half the world’s cities military and police forces self-mobilize, keeping order without having orders of their own. The inner suburban layers around cities will start getting involved in the riots as well, other than around Los Angeles where they will already have been rioting before the world ended due to the success of a local sports franchise (yes, the success of it). Roads will go from congested, to stalled, to monuments to stupidity as fuel runs out and traffic halts. Between riots and road rage (a state of hysteria some simians suffer when other simians dare to use public roadways with them), the global simian death toll will pass 50,000 before Jen’s party will wake up in the early afternoon, have breakfast, then drive mostly on side streets the remaining distance to Todd’s family’s cabin, which will already be illegally occupied by the nine-person, four-generation Sweeny family.
This will present a dilemma. Todd will be the only one in Jen’s group justified in kicking the Sweenys out, and he will lack the nerve. Of her group, Jen will be the only one with an all-consuming will to live—the others will continue doing it from sheer habit. Jen will first try talking to Chuck Sweeny, the alpha male of the primate group occupying the cabin, and probing him for weaknesses while ostensibly trying to convince him to let her group move into the already-crowded cabin as well. She will plan to fail at this, and succeed in failing, ending any sympathy Todd or the Reeds will have for the Sweenys. Jen’s (false) comments to the Reeds about the Sweeny’s racial and political background will further harden the Reeds’ resolve—all that Jen will need to do is stiffen Todd’s resolve and take advantage of it.
So she will stiffen Todd’s ‘resolve’, and take advantage of it. She won’t exactly give him the desire to live, but she’ll give him desire at any rate, and that’ll be good enough to keep him going in whatever direction she needs, without having to break out the contraceptives just yet.
The Reeds will loan one of their plentiful ‘recreational’ fully automatic assault rifles to Todd, while Jen will settle for a handgun that won’t break her shoulder with its recoil. The Reed’s growing annoyance at being bossed around by the little girl will be temporarily assuaged when she has to ask to make sure she’s gotten all the ammunition out of her gun before telling them her plan.
Most survivors (of any species) of catastrophic events, share many of the traits and skills already mentioned about Jen Anders: will to live, preparedness, (in her case, physical) charisma, the much-maligned ability to pay attention. Not all of these are needed, and there are more that are optimal but not necessary—including physical strength (which Jen will lack) and good problem solving skills (which Jen will possess). Another useful survival trait that she will possess, distasteful as it may be, is that she will be (to use the simians’ delightfully scatological term) an *******. The ability to prioritize oneself above all others, while detrimental to allegedly polite society, is a palpable boon in high-stakes survival situations. After all, the most likely to survive are the ones who make it their highest priority, and thus selfishness is one of the most successful evolutionary traits, even within herd species.
Jen’s party will drive away from the cabin in apparent defeat, driving just out of earshot and returning on foot, leaving Mrs. Reed behind to guard the cars (since Jen will have doubts about her agreement with the plan anyway). Mr. Reed had fought in the war (one of them, at any rate), and part of him will enjoy reliving his glory days, and insists on doing the most dangerous parts, though Jen would be more comfortable if the best shot in the group was covering them instead.
Mid-afternoon on that day, Mr. Reed will climb up the outside of the stone chimney, humming the theme song from Robocop (an audiovisual narrative about a cybernetic constable), while Jen and Todd wait in the bushes with a fire extinguisher and a first aid kit. Mr. Reed will stuff a wad of damp rags down to plug it, leaving a cord to yank it out; by the time he climbs down, smoke will be flooding into the cabin. The Sweenys will throw open the windows and doors, half of them coughing their way outside, the men working to douse the fire. Jen will nod from the bushes, and Mr. Reed will creep around the corner and grab the youngest Sweeny, a girl of six. Todd and Jen will then rush forward, brandishing weapons, and demanding the Sweenys vacate the house. The women and children will be crying.
According to Jen’s plan, the smoke and the hostage should convince the Sweenys to vacate; however, the teenager with his father’s handgun won’t have thought this through as thoroughly as Jen. Todd will see him, leaning out the window, open fire, and demonstrate why he never earned his ‘Marksmanship’ patch. The teen will shoot as well, and Mr. Reed too as he ducks around the corner, pushing his young hostage to safety and getting shot for the effort. Everyone else shouts and screams and runs.
Jen will jump back into the bushes until the firing stops. Then she will wait a few moments more before looking up, pointing her unloaded weapon at the remaining Sweenys, and stepping out of the bushes. Mr. Reed, bleeding from his left arm and right side and still holding the child, will have all the Sweeny males face down on the ground while Todd will meanwhile try not to have a psychotic episode while watching the females try to revive the fallen teen. Jen will hurry into the smoky cabin, extinguish the fire, rush back out to unclog the chimney, then switch with Mr. Reed long enough for him to give himself a field dressing from her first aid kit. After that, she’ll search the cabin and the Sweenys’ truck for any weapons (there will be three unused guns still inside, near the fireplace), and move the defeated family to their car in small groups. She will be magnanimous enough to let them keep most of their supplies. Todd will suggest letting them have a shovel to bury the dead kid with, but Jen won’t allow it, saying they’ll need it to fortify. Besides, it would be inefficient to bury so much fresh meat.
Mr. Reed will ride along as escort until they reach his trailer and Jen’s car, make sure they drive away, then drive his trailer to the cabin while his wife brings Jen’s car. This plan, too, will suffer a problem when the rough terrain and Mrs. Reed’s angry driving breaks Jen’s drive shaft. The rest of the day will be spent in cleaning and arguments, save a brief interlude where Jen will relieve Todd’s shock at possibly killing someone with another reward to his hormones (but only enough of a reward to entice). They will all take turns keeping watch that night, with Jen taking first.
On November 11th, simian fatalities will pass 100,000 as rioting continues, sanitation breaks down, and an ethnic war continues unabated between the Central People’s Republic of Africa and the African Central People’s Republic regardless of the worldwide collapse of civilization (much of which, incidentally, would have been commemorating the 125th anniversary of the end of what they called the ‘First World War,’ which wasn’t really the first and didn’t really end in 1918). Mr. Reed’s side wound will still be bleeding intermittently, and nobody in the cabin will have slept well. Jen and Mrs. Reed will organize supplies, while Todd will put his Woodsman patch to good use gathering firewood and later, per another of Jen’s ideas, knocking down trees across the road to make it hard for anyone to approach the cabin. They will board up the windows, fix the lock on the door the Sweenys will have broken to get in, fill everything available with water from a nearby stream, and make occasional attempts to clean smoke off the ceiling and blood off the walls, all with as little discussion as possible.
On November 12th, rioting will have moved out of the suburbs and into the exurbs and saturbs. A soccer match organized to maintain community spirit and morale in Glasgow will cause a fatal stadium collapse. Mr. Reed will tell his wife to fix Jen’s car, though she will only use (to use another confoundingly scatological simian term) half of her ass to do so.
Over the next week, millions will die as famine sets in. The elderly will be the first to go—by November 19th (Equal Opportunity Day and World Toilet Day), the average global simian age will drop by nine years. Conditions will worsen globally, and in the cabin as well. Particularly for Mr. Reed, when his wound begins to fester despite any first aid. Mrs. Reed will remain by his side, leaving Jen and Todd to fail at fishing, fail at hunting, and fail at scavenging. They will encounter other similar bands with increasing regularity, only escaping altercation because they won’t have anything worth fighting for (namely, food), though one trio will rob Jen of her last (quite useless) $150. The Reeds will have to fend off groups trying to steal the cottage three times, though their arsenal will be quite adequate for the job. Their supplies in the cabin will only last another week on the outside, and the Reeds will have become liabilities at this point. By the 17th, Jen will be watching for new potential members for her group—she will instinctively recognize the impossibility of surviving in too small a group, now developing a need for other people that she lacked before it had become an essential survival trait (and thus, demonstrating a second survival trait: adaptability).
On November 20th, global simian dead will pass 5,000,000—including Mr. Reed. Jen will show Mrs. Reed sympathy, and Todd will actually feel it. Jen (and therefore Todd) will do nothing to stop her from leaving, but she won’t let Mrs. Reed take all the guns or more than a third of their supplies. Mrs. Reed will take three days’ of food and water, her husband’s body, and her favorite rifle, load it all in her trailer, back it into Jen’s car three times, then drive off. The trailer will be waylaid by a biker gang seven miles away, though the widow Reed will take four of them out before her end. Jen and Todd won’t know of this, but she will break out the contraceptives as much for her own benefit as to strengthen her control of Todd.
This is a perversion of the most basic species survival trait—reproduction of the fittest. Jen, and most other mutants like her, whatever other strengths their deviant ability to ‘pay attention’ may grant, suffer from this same hesitancy to pass as much as possible of their genetic code on to the next generation, out of the same self interest that makes them such strong survivors. They reproduce late and numerically below average, guaranteeing their breed will always be in the minority.
On November 21st (World Hello Day), word of the collapse of society will reach Alabama, while one town in Siberia will learn the Soviet Union doesn’t exist anymore. Jen and Todd will take turns standing guard and making minor improvements to the cabin—without more people, they can’t venture far. Shortly after midday, the haggard Chavez-Nguyen family will wander by. Jen will look them over—a man in his forties, a woman in her late thirties, and two boys of eleven and fourteen—and decide they are both useful and non-threatening enough to invite in. It will take a few minutes to reassure them after they see the smoke and blood inside the cabin, but ultimately the offer to share their meager remaining food stockpile will be enough to overcome suspicion.
By November 22nd, a full billion simians will have died across the world. Israel will find itself at war with basically all of its neighbors, while Persia will be at war with Pakistan will be at war with India will be at war with China will be at war with Korea (not that any of these political entities will actually functionally exist anymore, but their armies will still exist and have a lot of tension and weaponry to work through). Todd will go hunting with Julio Chavez-Nguyen and his son, Kim. Jen will remain with Sun and young Carlos, guarding the cabin while the Chavez-Nguyens cook, fetch water, rig extra beds, and do other odd chores. Over the next few days, the Chavez-Nguyens will prove themselves both trustworthy and useful, helping bring down a deer on the 26th (Thanksgiving Eve). The Chavez-Nguyens will have nowhere else to go, and offer no resistance to Jen’s leadership of the group, creating the nucleus of what will become a successful hunter-gatherer tribe.
Through the end of November and the beginning of December, the death toll will leap to three billion. City riots will have descended into outright barbarism as dwindling survivors fight to the death for the remaining supplies of the most precious substance available—alcohol (and food, when possible). On December 3rd (International Hug Day), Chinese troops will withdraw from Tibet, and a sixty-year old stockbroker named Hans Johnson will join Jen’s band. Hunting will grow scarce after that, both from the competition of all the fleeing humanity and the cooling of the weather. On December 26th, after considerable debate with the Chavez-Nguyens, Jen and Hans will convince the group that cannibalism isn’t all that bad, considering the situation (which will be an average of 17 days longer than it took the rest of the simians to make the same decision, 28 in cities).
Considering the taboo across nearly all simian cultures against eating the same species, this will be the point where any simian would have to admit their civilization was over. But mutants like Jen know that the mere end of civilization isn’t cause to give up on life or anything. That’s the ‘will to live’ thing again, probably the second most critical trait one can have if one wishes to survive an apocalypse. However, there is one thing that is more important, one thing that can make up for deficiencies in all other skill sets, attributes, and resources. Jen having that Saturday off; Todd’s family having a cabin, and being on vacation; the Reeds’ arsenal; not being hit in the firefight at the cabin; not encountering any of the numerous more violent wanderers around the cabin; finding the Chavez-Nguyens and Hans Johnson… all of these critical details in Jen’s post-apocalyptic life will be outside her control.
On July 2nd, 2044, with 6 billion dead, the mortality rate will have stabilized. Juan Esteban Gutierrez Salvador will declare himself Pope in Argentina, only to be excommunicated and killed by the forces of Pope Paulo I. The cruise ships Queen Elizabeth III and Platinum Princess, utterly out of supplies, will run themselves aground on St. Thomas. Somewhere above Australia, the last astronaut on ISS2 will throw herself out of an airlock rather than starve to death. Militiamen will hold an election for the first President of Montana, though the only voting that matters will be the amount of firepower each candidate’s supporters will present. And Jen Anders, hunting after a morning tryst with Todd, will receive a bullet from Evelyn Starken.
Jen Anders will successfully survive the apocalypse, but her death at 29 will come four years before the average of a post-apocalyptic simian female. Further, she will intentionally fail to pass on her genetic material, which is the express purpose of any biological entity. However, the clan she will found with Todd O’Leary and the Chavez-Nguyens will continue to grow and develop after her death, as will Todd. Jen’s group will expand out of the wilderness, leaving the O’Leary cabin as a forward outpost against the Starken horde. Jen’s tribe will eventually be overrun after Todd’s death, but not before stabilizing the region enough for other settlements to take root. Jen will be totally forgotten by 2083, but the echoes of her life (and her efforts to extend it) will have a massive impact on the reformative years of society in the North American southeast.
In the end, the single most important factor in surviving an apocalypse, for the individual and the group alike, cannot be learned, bought, created, or stockpiled. It is fickle, unpredictable, irony-loving luck. Everyone runs out of it eventually… but in an apocalyptic situation, you only gets to run out of it once.
A little more experimenting from VestDan. If you squint at this, it even addresses the prompt. There's one word the censors snipped out here, but it should be simple enough to figure out from context.
5/5 Adherence to Prompt: You have the steps, the why's, and the heart. Full points. Survival means more than just packing enough food and getting away from the crazies. As the story proves, sometimes you are the crazy one. The other more complicated issues of survival, the story danced around by safely setting the story in the middle of the woods. This took care of a lot of outside details that would have been far more difficult to include. When such details were given to the narrating voice, it was a lot easier to digest, and place as I read along. Nice work.
4/5 Spelling and Grammar: Little things.
7/10 Characterization: The indirect characterization (coupled with the commentary) was very effective. Unfortunately it petered off towards the middle and end of the story when everything of true substance with the characters was simply told from the removed narrative's voice. Without taking the time to show the characters moving around in scene and time, and without giving them much interiority, the whole story has a very flat tone. It would be more effective if we zoomed in more on Jen, so that by the end when she is dead, we feel more for the heart/core of the story.
7/10 Plot and Structure: Nice narration and chronological plot. The narrators voice did a nice job supplying the reader with different kinds of information in a very structured manner.
8/10 Style: The comedic commentary reminded me of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The story had a very nice style. Sometimes I wanted the story to dip into Jen's perspective. In other words, the style at times was set to a higher priority than the narrative. In the places where the story seemed overly informative and summarized, a switch to a narrative style would have been very effective.
7/10 Creativity: This story had a lot of creativity from the basic idea to how the events unfolded over time.
Closing Comments: The themes of luck were not evident throughout the story. Mentioning luck at the end seemed like a gimmick. The strongest theme and motif of this story lies in memory (both genetic and thoughts). This can be used a lot more for a much stronger story. I would like to hear more about the themes and ideas that you wanted to put into this story. I would also like to trace the ideas around and to see how they bounce around the walls of structure for this story. I look forward to it.
Good point on Characterization. The story is always from the narrator's "point of view," but could delve deeper into Jen in the middle/second half
Plot and Structure -- My critique of your critique is, you make purely positive comments, yet docked three points. I am curious as to why those points were docked -- not saying you are wrong, just wish to know your reasoning.
Style -- this is really why I wrote the story (that, and the title, hah). This sort of style wouldn't work on a longer work, but was a fun experimental exercise. I avoided dropping into direct narrative, as Jen is merely a 'case study' for whoever the narrator is.
Creativity -- see "plot and structure" above
The Luck thing was the starting point for the story idea, but perhaps isn't inserted so well. Well, rather, I added a bit more explanation on the memory stuff because the story seemed too depressing. There were many times in the story that luck played a major role, from what resources Jen had (including people), and what happened around her. The 'memory' stuff was what was tacked-on, heh, it's just something of a personal philosophy of mine, hah.
Good point on Characterization. The story is always from the narrator's "point of view," but could delve deeper into Jen in the middle/second half
Plot and Structure -- My critique of your critique is, you make purely positive comments, yet docked three points. I am curious as to why those points were docked -- not saying you are wrong, just wish to know your reasoning.
Style -- this is really why I wrote the story (that, and the title, hah). This sort of style wouldn't work on a longer work, but was a fun experimental exercise. I avoided dropping into direct narrative, as Jen is merely a 'case study' for whoever the narrator is.
Creativity -- see "plot and structure" above
The Luck thing was the starting point for the story idea, but perhaps isn't inserted so well. Well, rather, I added a bit more explanation on the memory stuff because the story seemed too depressing. There were many times in the story that luck played a major role, from what resources Jen had (including people), and what happened around her. The 'memory' stuff was what was tacked-on, heh, it's just something of a personal philosophy of mine, hah.
ok.
Plot and Structure: The idea was interesting and entertaining, but I felt like it didn't go anywhere. This is to say that I felt that you didn't use or flesh out the ideas that you presented. This story is told with a lot of telling from a "floating alien voice." This voice sees and knows plenty of things about what's going on down on this planet called Earth.
What the overarching voice knows and contributes to the story needs to be exploited. If Jen was one step away from slipping on a rock and breaking her neck, then we should know it. Depending on what detail you choose to include with shape the very structure of the story and have more interesting affects on how we view the plot.
I felt that the voice fell into a more standard mode of telling the action.
What if the voice were a characterized to the point where it comments about things it likes, actively omits things it doesn't like, but ultimately works for the story. You said that Jen is a case study for whoever the narrator is. This sounds like the voice IS the main character of the story. If so, then all the normal rules of supporting a main character through plot and characterization apply.
The same applies for the creativity. A lot of interesting situations were set up, but I felt like they weren't used or told in a way that suited the story from what it had already set up in the beginning. Towards the middle of the story, the spice of the narrator's voice, and the interesting survival actions subsided.
In order the make the LUCK and MEMORY aspects of the story work, you have to make sure you pay careful craft attention to the main character. If the main character is the voice, then much needs to be inserted.
Also, how much harm would adding a brief scene showing much of Jen's internal thoughts do? This depends on taste, and what the scene would be about. Before I can say anything else, I need a better idea of what the central character and message/purpose of the story is.
Jen is the main character of the story, such as it were, but I wrote this more as an experiment in voice and tone than her actual tale. Jen is the character that goes through the little 'development arc' that's essential to any successful short story--the Voice should be the same at the end as it was at the beginning. I hesitate to add any concrete depth to the Voice, because I think it's mysterious nature makes for a more interesting read. It leaves the reader questions -- who is the Narrator? Is it an Alien? Is it a time traveler? I myself never had a definite idea, other than it was taking the role of 'anthropologist'. That being the case, I don't think the narrator particularly CARES what Jen's internal feelings are, and I don't see any particularly strong reasons to break the Voice's control to show them to the reader. I know it's non-standard, and I would certainly not write like this often, but I think the sheer differentness of knowing so little about the main character is itself something of a strength, or at least a novelty.
So, to sum all that up... Jen is technically the protagonist, but the Voice is the 'draw' of the story. Kinda like Orlando Bloom is the 'hero' of Pirates of the Carribean, but everyone goes to watch Johnny Depp, haha.
Your choice of tense is gimmicky, and saps your story of any force (and saps me of my will to read it). So I wonder why you chose it.
You struggle with the consistency of your voice. These pop up frequently, here's one: " On November 8th, the simians of the world will start to get nervous". Change 'start to get' to 'become'.
"DVC players"?
The story exerts no emotional pull, and I don't see any reason to care about the characters.
I didn't finish the story, so I have no further comments.
Thank you for your comments, erikg, though your tone could be a little friendlier. Yes, the tone is a bit of a gimmick, or rather an experiment in future tense. Likewise, the detached tone was to mirror Jen's emotional detachment with the world. The voice was a rough one to keep up, I will look into that stuff in revision. Finally, details like 'DVC' players were just inserted because, well, it takes place in the future, and technology will have progressed by then.
Anyway, sorry you didn't enjoy the story, though I'm curious as to why you started to read it (and not the other writers'). Hopefully my next one will be less offensive to you.
Thank you for your comments, erikg, though your tone could be a little friendlier. Yes, the tone is a bit of a gimmick, or rather an experiment in future tense. Likewise, the detached tone was to mirror Jen's emotional detachment with the world. The voice was a rough one to keep up, I will look into that stuff in revision. Finally, details like 'DVC' players were just inserted because, well, it takes place in the future, and technology will have progressed by then.
Anyway, sorry you didn't enjoy the story, though I'm curious as to why you started to read it (and not the other writers'). Hopefully my next one will be less offensive to you.
I do apologize for the tone - my English class consists of a great deal of tact, for fear of wounding the delicate sensibilities of some of our more diffident writers, and it gets a little tiresome. I figured I could be blunter with you since someone who's worked on his craft (as you obviously have) probably has the requisite thick skin. I'm glad you don't dismiss my criticism - clearly you're the sort who is always improving.
Anyway, good point on the DVC thing - I automatically assumed it was a typo due to the proximity of d and c. My bad.
And my reason for looking at yours is it had the most views on here, and you seem a well-regarded writer in these parts. I figured either that everybody was on to something, or I could take a swing at somebody with room for improvement. I found a mixture of both, though.
And finally, your story didn't offend - I just found it rang hollow.
Nope, I'm not one to write off criticism unless it's something like "You suck and you should die." I just tend to phrase things as nicely as I can without weakening them too much. This was an experimental tone/voice, as I said, isn't my norm... I just take these short story contests as an excuse to play with the language, see what I can do and how well.
A note on my grading: I mark these as if I was doing a professional critique. I will be pretty harsh and I don't give out top marks unless I think the manuscript is publishable. Imagine I am the editor who holds the ability to publish your material or toss it into the circular file. Most slush pile submissions get tossed. You have lots of competition out there, so your story has to be damn near perfect to get published.
I enjoyed this story, which is strange because I usually don't like totally narrative stories. I prefer scenic stories where we actually get to "see" things happen and not just get told about them from an omniscient narrator.
But this is handled pretty well. Although I have one huge caveat, and this is what would most likely keep this story from getting published. The whole future tense thing drove me crazy through the story. Sure, set it in the future with a narrator who seems immune to the effects of time. I liked that part. But when people in the story are actually doing something, don't tell us that she will do this or she will do that. It keeps us at arm's length from the character.
I would have liked to have seen the narrator removed just a bit from the story. Put the narrator comments into future tense, but put all the action in to past tense (as if it already happened, and thus has consequence to the people involved).
Other than that, I think the story just needs a good edit with an eye toward tightening the sentences and avoiding repetition of words. Also, some of your paragraphs get awfully long. This will turn most readers off. And, I had a little problem with the jump from millions of dead to a billion dead. That's a huge leap that I just don't think could happen in a matter of days. That one fact pulled me out of the story at that point.
Thanks, Will! I'll tweak the tenses as you suggested, that will probably make it read better. I just wanted to experiment with a seldom-used tense, hah.
My thinking on the millions-to-billions leap was basically that urban areas around the world would, simply, run out of food and fresh water. If everything globally is turned off at the same time, all the big cities (of which there will be more at this point in the future) will start starving around the same time, so there would be a sudden massive spike in deaths. I could perhaps explain this a bit better.
Brains, Breasts, and Sheer Dumb Luck
--Daniel Rezendes
The world (as you know it) will end on November 7th, 2043. The planet itself will remain largely unchanged by and unconcerned about this. The biosphere will, after the blink of a few decades, be as strong as it had been a short 200 years before, when some overzealous simians started mucking up the place. No, it will only be the world of those simians that ends on what most of them decide to call November 7th, 2043, though most of them won’t realize it for several days or weeks. This is because most of this particular breed of simian makes a habit of not paying attention.
A few mutant members of this breed, however, do pay attention. The ones who do this all the time have long been judged insane and disposed of so the bulk of the species could go along its merry oblivious way. But some with a weak strain of this mutation can see what’s going on in occasional moments of clarity, but infrequently enough to still function. But whatever the degree of their mutation, these mutant simians will be the best suited to survive when the world ends.
Jen Anders will be one of these. In 2043, Jen will be an independent female capable of reproducing but unwilling to do so, who (unlike most of her species) spends most days at a job she actually enjoys (tax assessor).
At 8:38 AM (Eastern Time) on November 7th, just after Jen will wake up, the power will go out. Thousands across the world will die. Jen won’t know that; she will shrug and finish breakfast. At 10:30, the electricity will still be out, and she’ll decide to scout out the town to see how widespread it is and if anyone knows anything about it. The radio (a noise making device used to convey cultural propaganda) in her car (a widely used mechanical alternative to legs) won’t receive any signals. Not even Spanish stations. It is then she will know something is seriously wrong, and decide to prepare for the worst.
Nobody in town will know anything about it—nor will anyone else Jen ever meets. There will be numerous theories: a government conspiracy, an extraterrestrial prank, the ultimate hacker exploit, a massive solar flare, and (most popularly) one’s angry deity of choice (or that deity’s corresponding opponent, which really amounts to the same thing). Jen Anders and most of the other intelligent mutants won’t spend time dwelling on it. Jen will spend most of the first day buying nonperishable supplies, tools, batteries, and the like—the ‘normal’ part of her mind will say she’s being paranoid, but she will reason that it’s almost all stuff she’ll use eventually anyway. This is because Jen will have an innate understanding of the first rule of survival: being prepared for survival. She won’t honestly think at first the world has ended, but it’s the mutant ability to be prepared for the unexpected that will help mutant simians like Jen survive this apocalypse—just as it has all the previous ones.
On November 8th, the simians of the world will start to get nervous, even a little impatient. Jen will spend the day heading a neighborhood barbeque before anyone’s meat spoils, demonstrating another valuable survival ability—maximizing resources. Not only will this make sure the meat isn’t wasted, it will earn her the goodwill of her neighbors (a useful, if fleeting, commodity).
On November 9th, in the unprecedented absence of organized government authority, rioting will break out in major urban centers around the world, except one called Orlando where it will be far too humid. The mutant simians living in cities will take what food and supplies are left, while quite a few more (without the awareness mutation) will take televisions and DVC players and money other items they’ll still mistakenly assign value to. The wiliest mutants will have already left town—and were getting into the outer exurban sprawl like the one Jen will live in, bringing news with them. When word comes that the power loss reaches as far as the cities, Jen will be one of the first to realize that being near a big city when the food runs out would be a very bad idea.
Like all other adult members of her tribe, Jen will have a car of her own, a small ethanol-efficient thing used to get to work and visit her family on the rare occasion the mood strikes her (her particular mutation was a random one not passed down from her non-mutant parents, and anyone able to pay attention finds it difficult to maintain a relationship with those who cannot).
She will spend much of the afternoon of the 9th packing: layers of clothes for different weather conditions, food, water, money, personal documents, flashlights, batteries, duct tape (the single greatest achievement of her simian species, mutant or otherwise), sleeping bag, sheets, sewing kit, a lighter, her ex-boyfriend’s fishing gear (which she won’t yet know how to use), pots and pans and kitchen utensils, a first aid kit, toiletries, morning-after contraceptives and other medicines, and Captain Wiggles (a stuffed animal given to her as a child).
While packing, Jen will also be contemplating the limitations of the vehicle’s range and her lack of an actual destination. Despite repeatedly reassuring the neighbors who ask that the government will have everything fixed soon, Jen will by this point be preparing for a long haul. Most of the neighborhood will be so far into information withdrawal as to be completely useless, so Jen will have an active catalogue of the few people who are not checking their computers or televisions every third minute. The Starken family in the blue house down the street will have never used technology much, which will have led Jen and the rest of the neighborhood to assume they are part of some sort of spooky cult. Jen will know better than to deal with that, and further she won’t want to deal with children in a survival situation. The fifty-year-old couple across the street will be of a peculiar caste known as ‘rednecks,’ that never seem to do any work but somehow amass an impressive collection of expensive weaponry and partially functional partial cars. The arsenal and ability to make broken machinery technically functional will make the Reeds suddenly useful, even if Jen had never liked them much.
She won’t much like the idea of attaching herself to those two without someone to back her up, and she’ll have nobody obligated to do so since her boyfriend will have walked out a month earlier. But she’ll have someone else in mind—Todd O’Leary, the nineteen year old eagle scout living with his parents three houses down, who’d been mowing her lawn for free for four years and made friends with the boy who beat him up across the street, just so they could spy on her from his bushes. He had been most helpful at her neighborhood barbeque, stealing not-as-subtle-as-he-thinks glances at her not insubstantial breasts (fatty protrusions on the chests of the female of this species that triggers a form of hormonal insanity in the males, rendering them both aggressive and highly suggestible). Todd will be alone, his parents off on a cruise, and his family’s cabin in the woods conveniently empty. A visit in a low-cut shirt will be all it takes for Jen to win herself a useful post-apocalyptic manservant.
They will leave that night, while most of the neighborhood is asleep and the roads are relatively empty, the Reeds in their trailer following Jen and Todd and his awkward hormonal silence in her car.
Around dawn on November 10th, Jen’s little convoy will pull well off the freeway to sleep. During that day, the rioting will worsen, and in about half the world’s cities military and police forces self-mobilize, keeping order without having orders of their own. The inner suburban layers around cities will start getting involved in the riots as well, other than around Los Angeles where they will already have been rioting before the world ended due to the success of a local sports franchise (yes, the success of it). Roads will go from congested, to stalled, to monuments to stupidity as fuel runs out and traffic halts. Between riots and road rage (a state of hysteria some simians suffer when other simians dare to use public roadways with them), the global simian death toll will pass 50,000 before Jen’s party will wake up in the early afternoon, have breakfast, then drive mostly on side streets the remaining distance to Todd’s family’s cabin, which will already be illegally occupied by the nine-person, four-generation Sweeny family.
This will present a dilemma. Todd will be the only one in Jen’s group justified in kicking the Sweenys out, and he will lack the nerve. Of her group, Jen will be the only one with an all-consuming will to live—the others will continue doing it from sheer habit. Jen will first try talking to Chuck Sweeny, the alpha male of the primate group occupying the cabin, and probing him for weaknesses while ostensibly trying to convince him to let her group move into the already-crowded cabin as well. She will plan to fail at this, and succeed in failing, ending any sympathy Todd or the Reeds will have for the Sweenys. Jen’s (false) comments to the Reeds about the Sweeny’s racial and political background will further harden the Reeds’ resolve—all that Jen will need to do is stiffen Todd’s resolve and take advantage of it.
So she will stiffen Todd’s ‘resolve’, and take advantage of it. She won’t exactly give him the desire to live, but she’ll give him desire at any rate, and that’ll be good enough to keep him going in whatever direction she needs, without having to break out the contraceptives just yet.
The Reeds will loan one of their plentiful ‘recreational’ fully automatic assault rifles to Todd, while Jen will settle for a handgun that won’t break her shoulder with its recoil. The Reed’s growing annoyance at being bossed around by the little girl will be temporarily assuaged when she has to ask to make sure she’s gotten all the ammunition out of her gun before telling them her plan.
Most survivors (of any species) of catastrophic events, share many of the traits and skills already mentioned about Jen Anders: will to live, preparedness, (in her case, physical) charisma, the much-maligned ability to pay attention. Not all of these are needed, and there are more that are optimal but not necessary—including physical strength (which Jen will lack) and good problem solving skills (which Jen will possess). Another useful survival trait that she will possess, distasteful as it may be, is that she will be (to use the simians’ delightfully scatological term) an *******. The ability to prioritize oneself above all others, while detrimental to allegedly polite society, is a palpable boon in high-stakes survival situations. After all, the most likely to survive are the ones who make it their highest priority, and thus selfishness is one of the most successful evolutionary traits, even within herd species.
Jen’s party will drive away from the cabin in apparent defeat, driving just out of earshot and returning on foot, leaving Mrs. Reed behind to guard the cars (since Jen will have doubts about her agreement with the plan anyway). Mr. Reed had fought in the war (one of them, at any rate), and part of him will enjoy reliving his glory days, and insists on doing the most dangerous parts, though Jen would be more comfortable if the best shot in the group was covering them instead.
Mid-afternoon on that day, Mr. Reed will climb up the outside of the stone chimney, humming the theme song from Robocop (an audiovisual narrative about a cybernetic constable), while Jen and Todd wait in the bushes with a fire extinguisher and a first aid kit. Mr. Reed will stuff a wad of damp rags down to plug it, leaving a cord to yank it out; by the time he climbs down, smoke will be flooding into the cabin. The Sweenys will throw open the windows and doors, half of them coughing their way outside, the men working to douse the fire. Jen will nod from the bushes, and Mr. Reed will creep around the corner and grab the youngest Sweeny, a girl of six. Todd and Jen will then rush forward, brandishing weapons, and demanding the Sweenys vacate the house. The women and children will be crying.
According to Jen’s plan, the smoke and the hostage should convince the Sweenys to vacate; however, the teenager with his father’s handgun won’t have thought this through as thoroughly as Jen. Todd will see him, leaning out the window, open fire, and demonstrate why he never earned his ‘Marksmanship’ patch. The teen will shoot as well, and Mr. Reed too as he ducks around the corner, pushing his young hostage to safety and getting shot for the effort. Everyone else shouts and screams and runs.
Jen will jump back into the bushes until the firing stops. Then she will wait a few moments more before looking up, pointing her unloaded weapon at the remaining Sweenys, and stepping out of the bushes. Mr. Reed, bleeding from his left arm and right side and still holding the child, will have all the Sweeny males face down on the ground while Todd will meanwhile try not to have a psychotic episode while watching the females try to revive the fallen teen. Jen will hurry into the smoky cabin, extinguish the fire, rush back out to unclog the chimney, then switch with Mr. Reed long enough for him to give himself a field dressing from her first aid kit. After that, she’ll search the cabin and the Sweenys’ truck for any weapons (there will be three unused guns still inside, near the fireplace), and move the defeated family to their car in small groups. She will be magnanimous enough to let them keep most of their supplies. Todd will suggest letting them have a shovel to bury the dead kid with, but Jen won’t allow it, saying they’ll need it to fortify. Besides, it would be inefficient to bury so much fresh meat.
Mr. Reed will ride along as escort until they reach his trailer and Jen’s car, make sure they drive away, then drive his trailer to the cabin while his wife brings Jen’s car. This plan, too, will suffer a problem when the rough terrain and Mrs. Reed’s angry driving breaks Jen’s drive shaft. The rest of the day will be spent in cleaning and arguments, save a brief interlude where Jen will relieve Todd’s shock at possibly killing someone with another reward to his hormones (but only enough of a reward to entice). They will all take turns keeping watch that night, with Jen taking first.
On November 11th, simian fatalities will pass 100,000 as rioting continues, sanitation breaks down, and an ethnic war continues unabated between the Central People’s Republic of Africa and the African Central People’s Republic regardless of the worldwide collapse of civilization (much of which, incidentally, would have been commemorating the 125th anniversary of the end of what they called the ‘First World War,’ which wasn’t really the first and didn’t really end in 1918). Mr. Reed’s side wound will still be bleeding intermittently, and nobody in the cabin will have slept well. Jen and Mrs. Reed will organize supplies, while Todd will put his Woodsman patch to good use gathering firewood and later, per another of Jen’s ideas, knocking down trees across the road to make it hard for anyone to approach the cabin. They will board up the windows, fix the lock on the door the Sweenys will have broken to get in, fill everything available with water from a nearby stream, and make occasional attempts to clean smoke off the ceiling and blood off the walls, all with as little discussion as possible.
On November 12th, rioting will have moved out of the suburbs and into the exurbs and saturbs. A soccer match organized to maintain community spirit and morale in Glasgow will cause a fatal stadium collapse. Mr. Reed will tell his wife to fix Jen’s car, though she will only use (to use another confoundingly scatological simian term) half of her ass to do so.
Over the next week, millions will die as famine sets in. The elderly will be the first to go—by November 19th (Equal Opportunity Day and World Toilet Day), the average global simian age will drop by nine years. Conditions will worsen globally, and in the cabin as well. Particularly for Mr. Reed, when his wound begins to fester despite any first aid. Mrs. Reed will remain by his side, leaving Jen and Todd to fail at fishing, fail at hunting, and fail at scavenging. They will encounter other similar bands with increasing regularity, only escaping altercation because they won’t have anything worth fighting for (namely, food), though one trio will rob Jen of her last (quite useless) $150. The Reeds will have to fend off groups trying to steal the cottage three times, though their arsenal will be quite adequate for the job. Their supplies in the cabin will only last another week on the outside, and the Reeds will have become liabilities at this point. By the 17th, Jen will be watching for new potential members for her group—she will instinctively recognize the impossibility of surviving in too small a group, now developing a need for other people that she lacked before it had become an essential survival trait (and thus, demonstrating a second survival trait: adaptability).
On November 20th, global simian dead will pass 5,000,000—including Mr. Reed. Jen will show Mrs. Reed sympathy, and Todd will actually feel it. Jen (and therefore Todd) will do nothing to stop her from leaving, but she won’t let Mrs. Reed take all the guns or more than a third of their supplies. Mrs. Reed will take three days’ of food and water, her husband’s body, and her favorite rifle, load it all in her trailer, back it into Jen’s car three times, then drive off. The trailer will be waylaid by a biker gang seven miles away, though the widow Reed will take four of them out before her end. Jen and Todd won’t know of this, but she will break out the contraceptives as much for her own benefit as to strengthen her control of Todd.
This is a perversion of the most basic species survival trait—reproduction of the fittest. Jen, and most other mutants like her, whatever other strengths their deviant ability to ‘pay attention’ may grant, suffer from this same hesitancy to pass as much as possible of their genetic code on to the next generation, out of the same self interest that makes them such strong survivors. They reproduce late and numerically below average, guaranteeing their breed will always be in the minority.
On November 21st (World Hello Day), word of the collapse of society will reach Alabama, while one town in Siberia will learn the Soviet Union doesn’t exist anymore. Jen and Todd will take turns standing guard and making minor improvements to the cabin—without more people, they can’t venture far. Shortly after midday, the haggard Chavez-Nguyen family will wander by. Jen will look them over—a man in his forties, a woman in her late thirties, and two boys of eleven and fourteen—and decide they are both useful and non-threatening enough to invite in. It will take a few minutes to reassure them after they see the smoke and blood inside the cabin, but ultimately the offer to share their meager remaining food stockpile will be enough to overcome suspicion.
By November 22nd, a full billion simians will have died across the world. Israel will find itself at war with basically all of its neighbors, while Persia will be at war with Pakistan will be at war with India will be at war with China will be at war with Korea (not that any of these political entities will actually functionally exist anymore, but their armies will still exist and have a lot of tension and weaponry to work through). Todd will go hunting with Julio Chavez-Nguyen and his son, Kim. Jen will remain with Sun and young Carlos, guarding the cabin while the Chavez-Nguyens cook, fetch water, rig extra beds, and do other odd chores. Over the next few days, the Chavez-Nguyens will prove themselves both trustworthy and useful, helping bring down a deer on the 26th (Thanksgiving Eve). The Chavez-Nguyens will have nowhere else to go, and offer no resistance to Jen’s leadership of the group, creating the nucleus of what will become a successful hunter-gatherer tribe.
Through the end of November and the beginning of December, the death toll will leap to three billion. City riots will have descended into outright barbarism as dwindling survivors fight to the death for the remaining supplies of the most precious substance available—alcohol (and food, when possible). On December 3rd (International Hug Day), Chinese troops will withdraw from Tibet, and a sixty-year old stockbroker named Hans Johnson will join Jen’s band. Hunting will grow scarce after that, both from the competition of all the fleeing humanity and the cooling of the weather. On December 26th, after considerable debate with the Chavez-Nguyens, Jen and Hans will convince the group that cannibalism isn’t all that bad, considering the situation (which will be an average of 17 days longer than it took the rest of the simians to make the same decision, 28 in cities).
Considering the taboo across nearly all simian cultures against eating the same species, this will be the point where any simian would have to admit their civilization was over. But mutants like Jen know that the mere end of civilization isn’t cause to give up on life or anything. That’s the ‘will to live’ thing again, probably the second most critical trait one can have if one wishes to survive an apocalypse. However, there is one thing that is more important, one thing that can make up for deficiencies in all other skill sets, attributes, and resources. Jen having that Saturday off; Todd’s family having a cabin, and being on vacation; the Reeds’ arsenal; not being hit in the firefight at the cabin; not encountering any of the numerous more violent wanderers around the cabin; finding the Chavez-Nguyens and Hans Johnson… all of these critical details in Jen’s post-apocalyptic life will be outside her control.
On July 2nd, 2044, with 6 billion dead, the mortality rate will have stabilized. Juan Esteban Gutierrez Salvador will declare himself Pope in Argentina, only to be excommunicated and killed by the forces of Pope Paulo I. The cruise ships Queen Elizabeth III and Platinum Princess, utterly out of supplies, will run themselves aground on St. Thomas. Somewhere above Australia, the last astronaut on ISS2 will throw herself out of an airlock rather than starve to death. Militiamen will hold an election for the first President of Montana, though the only voting that matters will be the amount of firepower each candidate’s supporters will present. And Jen Anders, hunting after a morning tryst with Todd, will receive a bullet from Evelyn Starken.
Jen Anders will successfully survive the apocalypse, but her death at 29 will come four years before the average of a post-apocalyptic simian female. Further, she will intentionally fail to pass on her genetic material, which is the express purpose of any biological entity. However, the clan she will found with Todd O’Leary and the Chavez-Nguyens will continue to grow and develop after her death, as will Todd. Jen’s group will expand out of the wilderness, leaving the O’Leary cabin as a forward outpost against the Starken horde. Jen’s tribe will eventually be overrun after Todd’s death, but not before stabilizing the region enough for other settlements to take root. Jen will be totally forgotten by 2083, but the echoes of her life (and her efforts to extend it) will have a massive impact on the reformative years of society in the North American southeast.
In the end, the single most important factor in surviving an apocalypse, for the individual and the group alike, cannot be learned, bought, created, or stockpiled. It is fickle, unpredictable, irony-loving luck. Everyone runs out of it eventually… but in an apocalyptic situation, you only gets to run out of it once.
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also... Douglas Coupland is who now?
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4/5 Spelling and Grammar: Little things.
7/10 Characterization: The indirect characterization (coupled with the commentary) was very effective. Unfortunately it petered off towards the middle and end of the story when everything of true substance with the characters was simply told from the removed narrative's voice. Without taking the time to show the characters moving around in scene and time, and without giving them much interiority, the whole story has a very flat tone. It would be more effective if we zoomed in more on Jen, so that by the end when she is dead, we feel more for the heart/core of the story.
7/10 Plot and Structure: Nice narration and chronological plot. The narrators voice did a nice job supplying the reader with different kinds of information in a very structured manner.
8/10 Style: The comedic commentary reminded me of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The story had a very nice style. Sometimes I wanted the story to dip into Jen's perspective. In other words, the style at times was set to a higher priority than the narrative. In the places where the story seemed overly informative and summarized, a switch to a narrative style would have been very effective.
7/10 Creativity: This story had a lot of creativity from the basic idea to how the events unfolded over time.
Closing Comments: The themes of luck were not evident throughout the story. Mentioning luck at the end seemed like a gimmick. The strongest theme and motif of this story lies in memory (both genetic and thoughts). This can be used a lot more for a much stronger story. I would like to hear more about the themes and ideas that you wanted to put into this story. I would also like to trace the ideas around and to see how they bounce around the walls of structure for this story. I look forward to it.
38/50
Good point on Characterization. The story is always from the narrator's "point of view," but could delve deeper into Jen in the middle/second half
Plot and Structure -- My critique of your critique is, you make purely positive comments, yet docked three points. I am curious as to why those points were docked -- not saying you are wrong, just wish to know your reasoning.
Style -- this is really why I wrote the story (that, and the title, hah). This sort of style wouldn't work on a longer work, but was a fun experimental exercise. I avoided dropping into direct narrative, as Jen is merely a 'case study' for whoever the narrator is.
Creativity -- see "plot and structure" above
The Luck thing was the starting point for the story idea, but perhaps isn't inserted so well. Well, rather, I added a bit more explanation on the memory stuff because the story seemed too depressing. There were many times in the story that luck played a major role, from what resources Jen had (including people), and what happened around her. The 'memory' stuff was what was tacked-on, heh, it's just something of a personal philosophy of mine, hah.
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ok.
Plot and Structure: The idea was interesting and entertaining, but I felt like it didn't go anywhere. This is to say that I felt that you didn't use or flesh out the ideas that you presented. This story is told with a lot of telling from a "floating alien voice." This voice sees and knows plenty of things about what's going on down on this planet called Earth.
What the overarching voice knows and contributes to the story needs to be exploited. If Jen was one step away from slipping on a rock and breaking her neck, then we should know it. Depending on what detail you choose to include with shape the very structure of the story and have more interesting affects on how we view the plot.
I felt that the voice fell into a more standard mode of telling the action.
What if the voice were a characterized to the point where it comments about things it likes, actively omits things it doesn't like, but ultimately works for the story. You said that Jen is a case study for whoever the narrator is. This sounds like the voice IS the main character of the story. If so, then all the normal rules of supporting a main character through plot and characterization apply.
The same applies for the creativity. A lot of interesting situations were set up, but I felt like they weren't used or told in a way that suited the story from what it had already set up in the beginning. Towards the middle of the story, the spice of the narrator's voice, and the interesting survival actions subsided.
In order the make the LUCK and MEMORY aspects of the story work, you have to make sure you pay careful craft attention to the main character. If the main character is the voice, then much needs to be inserted.
Also, how much harm would adding a brief scene showing much of Jen's internal thoughts do? This depends on taste, and what the scene would be about. Before I can say anything else, I need a better idea of what the central character and message/purpose of the story is.
So, to sum all that up... Jen is technically the protagonist, but the Voice is the 'draw' of the story. Kinda like Orlando Bloom is the 'hero' of Pirates of the Carribean, but everyone goes to watch Johnny Depp, haha.
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You struggle with the consistency of your voice. These pop up frequently, here's one: " On November 8th, the simians of the world will start to get nervous". Change 'start to get' to 'become'.
"DVC players"?
The story exerts no emotional pull, and I don't see any reason to care about the characters.
I didn't finish the story, so I have no further comments.
Anyway, sorry you didn't enjoy the story, though I'm curious as to why you started to read it (and not the other writers'). Hopefully my next one will be less offensive to you.
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I do apologize for the tone - my English class consists of a great deal of tact, for fear of wounding the delicate sensibilities of some of our more diffident writers, and it gets a little tiresome. I figured I could be blunter with you since someone who's worked on his craft (as you obviously have) probably has the requisite thick skin. I'm glad you don't dismiss my criticism - clearly you're the sort who is always improving.
Anyway, good point on the DVC thing - I automatically assumed it was a typo due to the proximity of d and c. My bad.
And my reason for looking at yours is it had the most views on here, and you seem a well-regarded writer in these parts. I figured either that everybody was on to something, or I could take a swing at somebody with room for improvement. I found a mixture of both, though.
And finally, your story didn't offend - I just found it rang hollow.
Cheers,
Erik
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Spelling/Grammar: 3
Characterization: 7
Plot and Structure: 7
Style: 6
Creativity: 10
A note on my grading: I mark these as if I was doing a professional critique. I will be pretty harsh and I don't give out top marks unless I think the manuscript is publishable. Imagine I am the editor who holds the ability to publish your material or toss it into the circular file. Most slush pile submissions get tossed. You have lots of competition out there, so your story has to be damn near perfect to get published.
I enjoyed this story, which is strange because I usually don't like totally narrative stories. I prefer scenic stories where we actually get to "see" things happen and not just get told about them from an omniscient narrator.
But this is handled pretty well. Although I have one huge caveat, and this is what would most likely keep this story from getting published. The whole future tense thing drove me crazy through the story. Sure, set it in the future with a narrator who seems immune to the effects of time. I liked that part. But when people in the story are actually doing something, don't tell us that she will do this or she will do that. It keeps us at arm's length from the character.
I would have liked to have seen the narrator removed just a bit from the story. Put the narrator comments into future tense, but put all the action in to past tense (as if it already happened, and thus has consequence to the people involved).
Other than that, I think the story just needs a good edit with an eye toward tightening the sentences and avoiding repetition of words. Also, some of your paragraphs get awfully long. This will turn most readers off. And, I had a little problem with the jump from millions of dead to a billion dead. That's a huge leap that I just don't think could happen in a matter of days. That one fact pulled me out of the story at that point.
My thinking on the millions-to-billions leap was basically that urban areas around the world would, simply, run out of food and fresh water. If everything globally is turned off at the same time, all the big cities (of which there will be more at this point in the future) will start starving around the same time, so there would be a sudden massive spike in deaths. I could perhaps explain this a bit better.
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