An Untitled Futuristic Political, Historical and Science Fiction Thriller
A Possible Title: An Adventure to Utopia
Hey everyone, thanks for being here. I've been publishing on fan-fiction, mainly an AU on Star Wars. This – what I think so far is a Novella (unless it ends up becoming much bigger) is something I've been writing on my own. I've decided to put it up here so it's easier to share the link of it around and it can also be seen and read by more people who can review it.
This is a Story of A Possible Future for Our Planet. It takes place in different time periods. I will not disclose what happens when right now. I am trying to have also this information be discoverable in the story. There are Three Point of View Characters (so far) and their names and identities may come out in different point of the story.
My dear readers, I have an odd name. I am called 7891 Xia. I chose this name. I like it.
I am now on Earth, but –
It is very different from the Earth you live in today. I have some extra-temporal qualities. This is my present. Eight thousand years in your future. That is why I am able to converse to you this story. Perhaps you will not believe it. But I care not. Many do not, and many think me loon, but I truly wish merely to recount the journey I have had. I recorded a narrative while I experienced these events, and I have all those memories intact.
I'm the first narrator of this story. And these are my memories.
Earth right now is almost an ecumenopolis (city-planet) and things like civilisation, law and order work. They are by no means perfect, but it's as good as it gets – it can't get any better, can it?
Strangely enough, on this level of the city, where presently I am, five thousand metres above the surface, and where you see, far away, snow-capped mountain peaks, the air is fresh. You would be wise to know that it is not natural; it has been produced; yet, it is pure and free of dust, smoke and toxicity.
I visit a local restaurant. I do like the food here. It's Chinese. Oh, by the way, I exist in China. That's why I can see these beautiful Himalayas. We call them the Eastern Mountains now, but some recall it by their old name, from antiquity.
See, just like Rome, Egypt Ancient China and India were your antiquity, your present is our antiquity… And – since I like talking about history – what of your future would our middle ages be? Oh, no, we don't talk about those. They were worse than yours… that can be said. But why think I so negative?
I sit down on the table, where sit eight harmonious people who have never met each other. I, shyly, introduce myself, but they are more than friendly. I sit down and try to join their conversion, trying to keep myself awake. I am still crafting this monologue to you. I look around at the restaurant – the smell of the food is good and the sight is too.
I think my dear friends are discussing art.
I join in: "Lord Ziev's paintings remind me of Picasso. I like the naturalism." My dear friends each light up their faces with a wider smile. "7891, are you very interested in ancient history? You know, I have a friend who collects artwork from that period. Perhaps you two ought to meet". A dear friend adjacent sitting two seats forward says, "7891, which other areas of history are you familiarised to?" I think… I really cannot find an answer. So, I absently say, "Definitely not middle history," I blurt out again on that random train of thought. Again… Why am I thinking so negative?
My friends' smiles falter. One of them however, wakes with the enthusiasm of Aristotle and his Eureka, "How about we order some of this …?"
"Yes, yes!" say my dear friends. And conversation resumes. But not on the same subject.
I see a world burning.
The fields are burning, smoke engulfing coughing peasants and starving, crying children. I think of nothing else but my family.
I run to my town. I do not faint. When was the last time I ever drank water? I reach my home, a small apartment on the twenty-seventh floor. I nearly die in the stampede there. When I reach my door, I feel a warm rush and sigh of relief. All is well now. I open the door and think of a better tomorrow.
My children lie disembodied on the floor. Their intestines lie two metres away. I see cerebrospinal fluid of my three year old. My wife lies stone-faced on the floor, with just a bullet in her head. They were too rushed to rape her. But they had time to disembody the children. I envy my wife and curse her for her fortune. I look down at my children.
I move to the kitchen. I am very thirsty. Ah! There is water. I drink it like a baby sucking milk from her mother's breast. I remember when my youngest would do that. I walk to the balcony. I lean backwards and fall to nothingness; a something that isn't the nothingness around; a something that isn't abysmal or simply, not this. But I survive.
Romeo visited the historical section of the commune library. He hated yellow lights – just his quirk – so he got wax candles with him. On a coaster of course. There's no chance of it spilling onto the books.
Romeo was a specialist. He had just decided to specialise in fact, a few days ago. And in what was collated, the 'Late Middle Generations'.
Things were stabilising at that time –
Society re-grew after the High Middle Extinction Event. No one talked about that. They knew the world warred with itself and civilisation collapsed. But no one knew who won. Wars are never won. In the twentieth century, the Allies won World War II, but they lost their colonies. An entire race was systemically massacred. And civil wars in the 21st century have brought ruin, death and genocide to all. So people of this time were not wrong, were they?
So they knew how horrendously bad things were then, and they then knew of the 'Early Modern Forbearers', their recent ancestors, who build these cities, mediated class conflicts and developed technology beyond people's wildest imaginations. But they did not know much about this people in the middle. They thought this was the time where things just improved.
The Agricultural Re-Revolution, the Industrial Re-Revolution and the Technological Re-Revolution. All these things happened in our past and they happened in their past. So they weren't wrong here either, were they?
But Romeo found his observation and study a little intriguing and he wished to understand what exactly happened and he will find out, he thought. Romeo was a normal man, but a bit detached from the rest of his peers, the happy go lucky chums of advanced civilisation.
The thing is, they were all capable of critical thinking. Some like a quirky man who calls himself 7891 were a little different. But Romeo was normal and had thought like the rest – thought ordinarily – and lived life happier than we can today fathom. He was intelligent no doubt, but his study material would have intrigued any of them.