- Joined
- Apr 1, 2014
Yeah, I've been meaning to ask. Did anything actually of note happen during his last TS visit?
🍽️ حلال Connor Bible - Everyone's Favorite Molly Ringwald loving, adoption hating, aspiring writer and bellybutton fucker
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Yeah, I've been meaning to ask. Did anything actually of note happen during his last TS visit?
- Joined
- Oct 28, 2014
He told us he's taking a break from Redesigning Eva to write a new novel and some short stories. This new novel is going to be an homage to 80s action movies but also somehow Power Rangers.
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2013
A bit off topic, but I always thought that people thinking they're sophisticated and superior to everyone for liking Queen, Led Zeppelin, or Pink Floyd was extremely stupid. Way back when those bands came out their entire fanbase consisted of people just like the ones guys like Connor love to put down.
- Joined
- Jul 15, 2014
What else is new?
Connor has already shown himself to be so afraid of failure that I honestly doubt we'll this this come to fruition. Of course, I'd love to be proven wrong in this case, but I don't think I will be. Also, is he still going to try to give us "Night of the Gayer," or whatever it was called?
Something about this seems familiar, but I can't quite place my finger on it.
Considering how close Redesigning Eva is to the '80s cyberpunk homage it was supposed to be, I doubt we'll see any Power Ranger-esque characters if the story is actually written.
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2014
I just finished talking with @Surtur and we realized that both Jace and Tyce have done more in the realm of writing in a year then Connor has since he started his little book. Jace has more chapters of Tiberius Rising out then Connor has pages written. Tyce, an illiterate, shit huffing sped, churned out a full analchest cookbook. Connor you are literally producing less written content then two crazy people from Massachusetts
- Joined
- Aug 1, 2013
Actual footage of Connor's writing process:
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2013
Someone who's this married to his influences should just write fanfiction. I promise there are people out there who would unironically appreciate a Blade Runner/Pretty In Pink crossover.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2013
Maybe I'm not autistic enough to see, but how does adapting cheesy action movies to written prose work?
Also, I cringe at the thought of a novelization of the Power Rangers tv show.
E
EI 903
Guest
kiwifarms.net
This makes me think of the cast of The Expendables dressed in Power Ranger uniforms, with everything else remaining the same. I approve of this new project.
DrChristianTroy
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2013
Hyped for the CGI blood and disappointing action scenes.
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2013
Guess who's back, bitches~! I was totally REDESIGNED at TEAM HEADQUARTERS by drinking beers and playing slots and I am so damn fired up for more Connor that it is unbelieavable.
WrongPlanet, part 5, let's roll (that's a critters reference, some old movie from the 80's. It's really underground you probably haven't heard of it).
Connor The Philosopher (potential new forum handle???)
To the surprise of no one, Connor tries to get a raiding party for a forum that was rude to him (that I will be exploring next!)
um wat
This is the very moment that Connor began to switch Redesigning Eva from Blade Runner to Thomas Harris-lite.
http://centerforhealthysex.com/faq/masturbation-addiction-faq
Some relatively tame Junosperging. Though if I'm not mistaken, Connor hasn't actually seen the movie at this point in time.
I... sort of agree with Connor!? *drinks whiskey until belligerent*
I've seriously lost all words... why would you post this on a public forum?!
Let's finish off with a huge image dump. This is the entire dump of all five pages from Connor's next "My Novel" thread. This is where he switches from Screenplays to Novels, the real Watershed moment in his varied and exciting life.
WrongPlanet, part 5, let's roll (that's a critters reference, some old movie from the 80's. It's really underground you probably haven't heard of it).
Connor The Philosopher (potential new forum handle???)
To the surprise of no one, Connor tries to get a raiding party for a forum that was rude to him (that I will be exploring next!)
um wat
This is the very moment that Connor began to switch Redesigning Eva from Blade Runner to Thomas Harris-lite.
http://centerforhealthysex.com/faq/masturbation-addiction-faq
How has Connor's dick not been rubbed into a bloody pulp if he's chronically masturbated for four years?
Some relatively tame Junosperging. Though if I'm not mistaken, Connor hasn't actually seen the movie at this point in time.
I... sort of agree with Connor!? *drinks whiskey until belligerent*
I've seriously lost all words... why would you post this on a public forum?!
Let's finish off with a huge image dump. This is the entire dump of all five pages from Connor's next "My Novel" thread. This is where he switches from Screenplays to Novels, the real Watershed moment in his varied and exciting life.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2013
"These two philosophies, which I know nothing about and refuse to research, are somehow going to be major themes in my story."
Jesus Christ.
"Hey people trying to help me write one fucking chapter, I just remembered another TV trope my story will contain when I totally write it."
Well why didn't you say so? We'll stop offering suggestions immediately and just start kissing your ass.
"If you're thinking of stealing this mess, don't."
I agree. It's not worth it. Fart out your own garbage.
Jesus Christ.
"Hey people trying to help me write one fucking chapter, I just remembered another TV trope my story will contain when I totally write it."
Well why didn't you say so? We'll stop offering suggestions immediately and just start kissing your ass.
"If you're thinking of stealing this mess, don't."
I agree. It's not worth it. Fart out your own garbage.
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2014
Yeah, I really can't get over the "I don't know anything about this, but I won't do any research about it, because what's the use?"
God damn it, Connor. No one can help you if you're not going to fucking even try to help yourself, too.
God damn it, Connor. No one can help you if you're not going to fucking even try to help yourself, too.
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2014
That theWanderer person is giving really good advice. Connor should listen to it.
Picklechu
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2014
It existed. I had several when I was in pre-school in the early '90s.
- Joined
- Apr 15, 2014
It is interesting how the setting goes from "fairly nice near future" to "generic blade runner urban hellscape".
Also, we're a year away from early 2016, and Connor still hasn't finished his novel!
Also, we're a year away from early 2016, and Connor still hasn't finished his novel!
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2014
Okay, I am honestly totally lost. The version of RE he describes in some of these posts is totally different from the one I read. Can someone, like, give me a timeline of all the permutations this thing has gone through?
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2013
Huh. That "chaos draft" is a lot less shitty than the later version, I'm actually kind of impressed.
- Joined
- Nov 28, 2014
That original ending (Eva going to a wasteland that transforms into a beautiful park before she closes her eyes OMG DID IT ACTUALLY HAPPEN OR NOT???) is so Evangelion that I'm surprised that Molly Ringwald's severed head didn't make a guest appearance.
I can't Photoshop, I'm sorry 
- Joined
- Jul 15, 2014
Seeing as we have the current incarnation of RE on the sixth page of the thread, I felt that it was fitting to post a few of the earlier incarnations and outlines here in text form for easy reference.
Eva Parker is an 18-year old with no life. Skinny, short and nerdy, she believes she is isolated from the rest of the world. Her best friend, Carmen is a nihilistic Goth close to "ending it all." She and her lover Brian rarely talk, and have not officially consummated their attraction, and she is constantly harassed and intimidated by the Scarlets, a group of hallocinogen-addled rich girls. She goes to fellow nerd Patricia "Trish" Scott to seek existential advice, but to no avail. Eva does some soul-searching that same night, and realizes that to "show them all who [she] really [is]", she must completely "redesign" herself, physically and mentally. But how? She hears word of a bioresearch facility outside of town owned by the Prometheus Corporation. The previous year, the conglomerate had become known for successfully performing gene therapy on mice to increase their vision threefold. Going to the Prometheus Corp. offices (located in a small building adjacent to the labs), Eva meets James Holden, a British geneticist, and volunteers for Prometheus's "pet project", codenamed Aphrodite. Holden advises that she not do so, but Eva brazenly goes foward. Placed into suspended animation with an artificial womb-like structure, the Prometheus Corporation genetic engineers alter her DNA. A day later, Eva awakens to find her old body gone; it has been gifted with an appearance "that seemed to fit a goddess" and her physical attributes (strength, speed, agility, etc.) are increased to superhuman levels. Changing her mindset to that of a good-natured, though blatantly self-centered, superchick, Eva begins to view herself as almost superior to those around her, but eventually finds a flaw in this new "mask" that just might lead her to salvation, perhaps even freedom from the labyrinth of her soul...
FADE IN:
INT. BEDROOM, EARLY MORNING
The ceiling fan does its work with breakneck speed. Below it is a large, comfy-looking bed with white sheets. Underneath those sheets is a girl, sleeping. She is eighteen years old, with short, dark red hair and creamy white skin. Her eyes slowly open, revealing them to be brown. Her name is EVA PARKER.
Her eyes turn to her right, and subsequently she turns over. Vibrant rays are shining through the plastic blinds of her window. She gets up, and walks toward them, naked. Eva slightly lifts up one of the blinds with her index finger. She peers through. Neon from buildings across the street is burning like a manmade sun, and headlights come and go. She quickly drops it for obvious reasons.
Curious at what the time is, she turns around and gazes at the digital clock on her end table. It reads 3:00 AM. Not again, she thinks to herself.
CUT TO:
INT. KITCHEN, EARLY MORNING
Eva sits at a round table. In front of her is a glass of milk and a note scribbled on loose-leaf notebook paper. Taking a sip from the glass, she bobs her apple. The milk’s going sour. Eva could tell. It has a bland taste, like that of a decaying orange. She eyes the letter and picks it up with her right hand. She reads aloud the contents:
EVA: “Gone to L.A. See you in a few weeks! - Mom”
Los Angeles. Certainly no better than here, in the Windy City, Eva thinks. This is the first time I have the house to myself, and I’m already feeling empty inside.
INT. BEDROOM, MORNING
Eva gets dressed for her daily education. After donning her jeans and white t-shirt, she slides on her wristwatch and olive drab coat. Eva wonders why she is wearing it today; the weather report said it was going to be in the lower 70’s. Oh, well.
CUT TO:
INT. GARAGE
We are in utter darkness. The motion-detecting garage door begins to open. Light shines upon Eva’s preferred means of transportation: a large, white motorcycle. She walks toward it, her hand caressing its smooth exterior.
INT. BEDROOM, EARLY MORNING
The ceiling fan does its work with breakneck speed. Below it is a large, comfy-looking bed with white sheets. Underneath those sheets is a girl, sleeping. She is eighteen years old, with short, dark red hair and creamy white skin. Her eyes slowly open, revealing them to be brown. Her name is EVA PARKER.
Her eyes turn to her right, and subsequently she turns over. Vibrant rays are shining through the plastic blinds of her window. She gets up, and walks toward them, naked. Eva slightly lifts up one of the blinds with her index finger. She peers through. Neon from buildings across the street is burning like a manmade sun, and headlights come and go. She quickly drops it for obvious reasons.
Curious at what the time is, she turns around and gazes at the digital clock on her end table. It reads 3:00 AM. Not again, she thinks to herself.
CUT TO:
INT. KITCHEN, EARLY MORNING
Eva sits at a round table. In front of her is a glass of milk and a note scribbled on loose-leaf notebook paper. Taking a sip from the glass, she bobs her apple. The milk’s going sour. Eva could tell. It has a bland taste, like that of a decaying orange. She eyes the letter and picks it up with her right hand. She reads aloud the contents:
EVA: “Gone to L.A. See you in a few weeks! - Mom”
Los Angeles. Certainly no better than here, in the Windy City, Eva thinks. This is the first time I have the house to myself, and I’m already feeling empty inside.
INT. BEDROOM, MORNING
Eva gets dressed for her daily education. After donning her jeans and white t-shirt, she slides on her wristwatch and olive drab coat. Eva wonders why she is wearing it today; the weather report said it was going to be in the lower 70’s. Oh, well.
CUT TO:
INT. GARAGE
We are in utter darkness. The motion-detecting garage door begins to open. Light shines upon Eva’s preferred means of transportation: a large, white motorcycle. She walks toward it, her hand caressing its smooth exterior.
This time, the story takes place in the not-too-distant future (early 2016 to be exact). A decent amount of technological advancements have been made; "green" cars are available, as are extremely expensive virtual reality televisions. The main technological focus is the proliferation of biotechnology in the six years prior to the story, in particular, those dealing with genetics. Enter eighteen year old insomniac Evangeline "Eva" Parker, a girl whose life has turned gray. She needs to bring some color to this absurd, dreadfully boring existence. One night, a mysterious figure clothed entirely in black leaves a Prometheus Corporation business card on Eva's bedroom floor. Prometheus is one of the world's largest and most influential biotechnology companies, specializing in GM. Most of these experiments involve animals, such as a well publicized case in which the vision of lab mice was increased significantly through gene therapy. However, the Corporation has a covert project, named Catharsis, with a more ambitious goal: human enhancement. Traveling to their complex, conviently located in the forests outside her homeplace, the Californian megalopolis Janus City, Eva is introduced to Project Catharsis, and reluctantly volunteers, being told she is their "first subject." The gene therapy goes off well, and Eva is now classified as an A-class (or "perfect") human by Prometheus Corp. What follows is a profound story of deeply flawed human beings, and their efforts to rid themselves of said flaws. It is strange, yet at the same time clear. Externally the story sounds simple, but it penetrates far deeper levels than you could imagine.
This time around the story is told from the viewpoints of not just Eva, but five other characters(!): Brian Hicks, the main male character, who is experiencing a crisis of young adulthood; Carmen Barton, Eva's nihilistic best friend and "suicide junkie"; Patricia "Trish" Scott, a stoic friend of Eva's; Natasha Grant, an extremely wealthy young woman who indulges herself in sex and drugs, using the latter to escape from this absurd reality; and James Holden, a depressed, alcoholic British expatriate, who is also one of the head scientists of Project Catharsis.
This time around the story is told from the viewpoints of not just Eva, but five other characters(!): Brian Hicks, the main male character, who is experiencing a crisis of young adulthood; Carmen Barton, Eva's nihilistic best friend and "suicide junkie"; Patricia "Trish" Scott, a stoic friend of Eva's; Natasha Grant, an extremely wealthy young woman who indulges herself in sex and drugs, using the latter to escape from this absurd reality; and James Holden, a depressed, alcoholic British expatriate, who is also one of the head scientists of Project Catharsis.
Natasha Grant is the daughter of multibillionaire Taylor Grant, and when she was still in the crib, she was literally fed with a silver spoon that is now worth over five-hundred thousand dollars. Externally, she is role model to the higher youth of Janus City; she appears altruistic and brutally honest. It is only when the sun goes down that Natasha's true side emerges. She is actually an elitist, manipulative psychopath who spends her hard-earned money in the realm of drugs and all manner of delinquency. Like most reckless rich kids, she finds outlets for her boredom; she frequently abuses designer hallucinogens, and because of her shallow nature, she also takes emotional stimulants ("emostims") to help her pass as a person with normal affect. Natasha is the head an all-female group of fellow rich girls called the Scarlet Society, which operates under three basic tenants:
1. Shut the hell up.
2. What happens in the Society stays in the Society.
But most importantly...
3. Have fun.
You can pretty much guess what they do when they're together, and you may be wondering why I have such a sleazy character in a book that has some humanistic underpinnings. I digress. In addition to being a story about the human condition, it also contains a tinge of nihilism. It asks questions about whether or not existence has any intrinsic meaning or if there are indeed morals. This exhibits itself in random, unexpected occurances and the ethical issues of Project Catharsis, not to mention Natasha's excess.
1. Shut the hell up.
2. What happens in the Society stays in the Society.
But most importantly...
3. Have fun.
You can pretty much guess what they do when they're together, and you may be wondering why I have such a sleazy character in a book that has some humanistic underpinnings. I digress. In addition to being a story about the human condition, it also contains a tinge of nihilism. It asks questions about whether or not existence has any intrinsic meaning or if there are indeed morals. This exhibits itself in random, unexpected occurances and the ethical issues of Project Catharsis, not to mention Natasha's excess.
Existentialism
-What it means to be human
-The search of life's intrinsic meaning, and creation of said meaning
-How one's existence is defined
-Living in accordance with one's self (authenticity)
Determinism
-Does free will exist?
Nihilism
-Do morals exist?
-The perceived pointlessness of existence
Growth, change
Power
Personal identity
Human experience
-The act of observation
-Denial
-Discovery
-Fear
-Guilt
-Sorrow
-Pain
-Rejection
-Acceptance
Human nature
Lies, secrets, and hidden agendas
The mind
The blurred line between real and unreal
The condition of the youth
-Disillusionment
-Disorientation
Control, internal/external
Creation
The effects of technology on futuristic life
-What it means to be human
-The search of life's intrinsic meaning, and creation of said meaning
-How one's existence is defined
-Living in accordance with one's self (authenticity)
Determinism
-Does free will exist?
Nihilism
-Do morals exist?
-The perceived pointlessness of existence
Growth, change
Power
Personal identity
Human experience
-The act of observation
-Denial
-Discovery
-Fear
-Guilt
-Sorrow
-Pain
-Rejection
-Acceptance
Human nature
Lies, secrets, and hidden agendas
The mind
The blurred line between real and unreal
The condition of the youth
-Disillusionment
-Disorientation
Control, internal/external
Creation
The effects of technology on futuristic life
Major changes. The story is now set farther in the future to accomodate the setting. Eva now resides in a massive skyscraper (probably like everyone else in this sucky city) that holds about three-thousand people. Outside, it is hell; the streets are polluted, not only with garbage, but with us. Crime, overpopulation, the works. Corporate logos are everywhere, and the giant telescreens roar about how awesome life is on the Off-World colonies. There's a rain front; expect a lot of the abandoned buildings in the Gallows to crumble into nothing.
Eva has recently graduated high school, and is now working some dead-end job as a waitress at the Cuisine Internationale. Her and the rest of the workers there are laid off, replaced by machines. She's pissed, her existential funk growing worse. Catharsis is now a combination of gene therapy and psychoanalysis, the apparent goal being the improvement of one's quality of life.
Eva has recently graduated high school, and is now working some dead-end job as a waitress at the Cuisine Internationale. Her and the rest of the workers there are laid off, replaced by machines. She's pissed, her existential funk growing worse. Catharsis is now a combination of gene therapy and psychoanalysis, the apparent goal being the improvement of one's quality of life.
My eyes are open.
Those words are as good as any to begin this crazy little story of mine. That was the first thing that popped into my head as I woke up. Not the fact that it was going to be raining for awhile. It always rains in Janus City. Not the fact that it's Thursday, and I'm running. Not the fact that I'm open for business because I'm wearing nothing but my panties. I shudder at the thought. I palm underneath my pillow for my Beretta. Sometimes I have this irrational fear that I won't wake up, that my jugulars will be reopened or the Beretta would go off and paint the bed with sausages and Jell-O
NO
The window. Janus City greets me through the blinds, all neon and rain drip drip dripping on the glass. The ceiling fan spins around like clockwork, beating me with the winds from Aeolus's bag of tricks, and the holoclock reads 5:30 AM. Huh. I'm genuinely surprised. Was it a creeper's bump in the night? Insomnia? Figure it out, like my mother said.
I have a very rigid morning routine. It keeps me active, focused, where I have to be.
I do the usual. s**t, piss, shower. For breakfast: a stale box of Wonder Flakes, the cereal of the Off-World Colonies. “It’s not just great… it’s WONDROUS!” In all reality, it’s as bland as escargot, even when it’s fresh.
I’ve got some time, so I hop on Pegasus, my console. I have a chuckle downloading the latest blockbusters before they hit the screen in stunning HD and watching some retarded kid get crushed by a stampede of bull elephant. Don’t tell me it was an unfortunate accident. He knew, in his simian brain, what he was doing.
Finally, I don the highest of runner fashion: a long, green London trenchcoat with a hood; Ray-Ban Wayfarers, upgraded with an added reality interface; slightly (just slightly) torn jeans; and Nikes that have seen one patch of scum to many.
The final step: the mirror. In one word, describe your emotional state.
Well, I’m twenty-one years old… or twenty? Twenty-three? I have no f*****g clue. I’d just popped a couple of Valiums, so I can be a little zoned out. It relaxes the earthquakes on the inside. I’m in my early twenties, I have red hair, milk skin, bee-stung lips, dark eyes. People say I look like Molly Ringwald. Could I be a clone of her? Figure it out.
Heard mother was living and dying in L.A. I’m certain it is better down there than here.
I’m twenty something… and my brain is fried.
“I don’t f*****g know. Fine.”
Fine.
You’re in the garage now, staring at the Crown Victoria. Twenty years old, and what are you doing, besides running? I don’t know I don’t know I don’t f*****g know f**k
Keep yourself at bay, Eva.
You’re just going to run. So far awaaaaaay.
###
Shukutai Task Management, Inc. is a two-story office building, a miniature tower of glass. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if the place was struck by lightning. All of Tricky Dick’s easily-earned money goes tumbling down and slicing me and him and his lackeys to ribbons. I wish.
Dick Shukutai. That last name means “scumbag” in Japanese. Chink f****r looks the type too, five foot five, two hundred pounds, Hawaiian shirt stained with sweat and coffee and dirty Aviators. I keep my Wayfarers clean, despite the fact that I wade through the swamp on a daily basis. I land my Crown Vic in the back parking lot, get out, and go south through the transparent glass doors. Davey Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” is playing over the speakers. “Eva,” Will the deskbot says, “glad you got over here. The Cap wants your ass in his office.” Cap. That was Will’s name for Shukutai.
On a normal day, a low-level runner like me only catches a fleeting glimpse of Shukutai. You’d only get called up if you f****d up big time or were getting a raise. I get the feeling that this is none of the above. My guesses are spot on so much, you’d think I was psychic.
“Hi, Will.” I take off the Wayfarers. “What’s Dick up to? Probably wanting me to join in on a threesome with him and his ladies.”
“Eva, you’re such a cynic.”
“It’s my nature, I guess. I…” Pause. “I just popped a couple Valiums. I’m a little zoned out, like I always am.”
“You sound like you need to disconnect, girl? You know, get some R&R? Hey,” Will taps my shoulder, leans forward, “You ever try the Red Room? Golden.”
“That’s a redesign hangout. A natural like me’d get her eyes gouged out just looking at the place. It’s that exclusive.”
Redesigns. All the gifts that science can give them, and what do they do with it? This:
Hey, Steve!
Hey, Jake!
Say, Steve!
Yes, Jake!
Do you like my Ferrari?
That’s nothing, you should see my Lam.
I go up the stairs, turn right, down a few offices to the end of the hall. As I walk towards Cap's door, I can hear chit-chit-chatter. Looks like he's got guests. Another one of his more shadier business ventures I suppose. The windows of some of the offices are busted, mine are cracked, and the thick smell of cigarettes emanate from underneath Shukutai's door. I'm dying for one right now. Cap's got a little lantern that you stick the cig in as soon as you got in your mouth to light it, resembles a Chojin. Japanese have taken over the world. I can see the videoboard geisha, white as porcelain, eyes blacker than obsidian, sing to me through the cracked windows of my office. Big Brother is watching.
I open the door to see Shukutai sitting behind his desk, tweedling his thumbs, cigarette burning between forefinger and f**k you finger. Raises eyes to mine, says "Mosh-mosh, Evadge. How's the low life going?" He snorts his primordial snot back through the tubes of his nose.
"Captain Shukutai."
I pause. I noticed four things wrong with this room: a pretty guy; a graying crew-cut, beer gut shirt-button buster in a wool coat; another chink, a girl, folding origami and sitting in the back, right corner, rocking her chair; and a woman of about forty, maternal looking, white coat.
"Don't be a gopher, Evadge. Sit down."
I do that.
"Cig?" he offers.
"Sure."
Light her up. Rock n' roll.
Leaning back into the leather seat, steam from my mouth like Godzilla, I draw my attention to Origami Girl. She's real focused on her art. So far, she's made a bear, a snake, a worm, and a butterfly. Staring at the paper facsimiles, I am lost. It happens a lot. I feel like I don't know where I am, what time it is. Sometimes, I don't even care what condition my body's in. I am simply numb. Butterfly.
I want one A little little orange one
"Yo!" I shout, fingers surrounding my mouth. Origami Girl doesn't answer.
The motherly looking one says, "That's Trish. She prefers to let her actions speak for her."
Shukutai: "Evadge, this is Dr. Cope. Dr. Cope, this is Evadge."
"Call me Eva."
"What's the problem with 'Evadge'?" Cope asks. She peeks down, then veers her eyes back to Shukutai. "Oh. I see. Pleasure to meet you." She extends her left hand. I reach for it, but it cuts through her like air.
"Artificially intelligent hologram, eh?"
Cope: "Precisely."
Cope introduces me to the two men sitting on my side. Exhibit A: Prettyboy.
"Evangeline, this is Doctor Klaus Krieger. Doctor Krieger, this is Evangeline."
Evangeline. Nobody but a fink calls me that. Fink's my name for a fed or a cop or any other spook type. Cope's voice is sincere, friendly, but firm. I could still hear the rain trickling outside, down the blue-glowing windows. I feel like I'm a detective in a vintage noir, about to get briefed on the case. How I wish I were color blind. Things would really be looking up.
Klaus. Blonde hair, about my height (five-eight). Quite muscular. Looks a great deal like Macaulay Culkin, except he's missing an eye, his right. He's got one of the new cyberpatches over it. I am certain it has an AR interface. He's got on a white t-shirt with an image of Friedrich Nietzche facepalming himself splattered across it. Blue jeans. Nikes. Awfully nihilistic attire for a doctor. Of what.
The fat guy's Holden. James Holden. Holden, me. Me, Holden. He says nothing, but he's got a look in his eyes. Fascination? No.
Shukutai's office has shitty air conditioning, and as a result, sweat is already beginning to drip down my oval face. My eyes are dancing.
Those words are as good as any to begin this crazy little story of mine. That was the first thing that popped into my head as I woke up. Not the fact that it was going to be raining for awhile. It always rains in Janus City. Not the fact that it's Thursday, and I'm running. Not the fact that I'm open for business because I'm wearing nothing but my panties. I shudder at the thought. I palm underneath my pillow for my Beretta. Sometimes I have this irrational fear that I won't wake up, that my jugulars will be reopened or the Beretta would go off and paint the bed with sausages and Jell-O
NO
The window. Janus City greets me through the blinds, all neon and rain drip drip dripping on the glass. The ceiling fan spins around like clockwork, beating me with the winds from Aeolus's bag of tricks, and the holoclock reads 5:30 AM. Huh. I'm genuinely surprised. Was it a creeper's bump in the night? Insomnia? Figure it out, like my mother said.
I have a very rigid morning routine. It keeps me active, focused, where I have to be.
I do the usual. s**t, piss, shower. For breakfast: a stale box of Wonder Flakes, the cereal of the Off-World Colonies. “It’s not just great… it’s WONDROUS!” In all reality, it’s as bland as escargot, even when it’s fresh.
I’ve got some time, so I hop on Pegasus, my console. I have a chuckle downloading the latest blockbusters before they hit the screen in stunning HD and watching some retarded kid get crushed by a stampede of bull elephant. Don’t tell me it was an unfortunate accident. He knew, in his simian brain, what he was doing.
Finally, I don the highest of runner fashion: a long, green London trenchcoat with a hood; Ray-Ban Wayfarers, upgraded with an added reality interface; slightly (just slightly) torn jeans; and Nikes that have seen one patch of scum to many.
The final step: the mirror. In one word, describe your emotional state.
Well, I’m twenty-one years old… or twenty? Twenty-three? I have no f*****g clue. I’d just popped a couple of Valiums, so I can be a little zoned out. It relaxes the earthquakes on the inside. I’m in my early twenties, I have red hair, milk skin, bee-stung lips, dark eyes. People say I look like Molly Ringwald. Could I be a clone of her? Figure it out.
Heard mother was living and dying in L.A. I’m certain it is better down there than here.
I’m twenty something… and my brain is fried.
“I don’t f*****g know. Fine.”
Fine.
You’re in the garage now, staring at the Crown Victoria. Twenty years old, and what are you doing, besides running? I don’t know I don’t know I don’t f*****g know f**k
Keep yourself at bay, Eva.
You’re just going to run. So far awaaaaaay.
###
Shukutai Task Management, Inc. is a two-story office building, a miniature tower of glass. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if the place was struck by lightning. All of Tricky Dick’s easily-earned money goes tumbling down and slicing me and him and his lackeys to ribbons. I wish.
Dick Shukutai. That last name means “scumbag” in Japanese. Chink f****r looks the type too, five foot five, two hundred pounds, Hawaiian shirt stained with sweat and coffee and dirty Aviators. I keep my Wayfarers clean, despite the fact that I wade through the swamp on a daily basis. I land my Crown Vic in the back parking lot, get out, and go south through the transparent glass doors. Davey Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” is playing over the speakers. “Eva,” Will the deskbot says, “glad you got over here. The Cap wants your ass in his office.” Cap. That was Will’s name for Shukutai.
On a normal day, a low-level runner like me only catches a fleeting glimpse of Shukutai. You’d only get called up if you f****d up big time or were getting a raise. I get the feeling that this is none of the above. My guesses are spot on so much, you’d think I was psychic.
“Hi, Will.” I take off the Wayfarers. “What’s Dick up to? Probably wanting me to join in on a threesome with him and his ladies.”
“Eva, you’re such a cynic.”
“It’s my nature, I guess. I…” Pause. “I just popped a couple Valiums. I’m a little zoned out, like I always am.”
“You sound like you need to disconnect, girl? You know, get some R&R? Hey,” Will taps my shoulder, leans forward, “You ever try the Red Room? Golden.”
“That’s a redesign hangout. A natural like me’d get her eyes gouged out just looking at the place. It’s that exclusive.”
Redesigns. All the gifts that science can give them, and what do they do with it? This:
Hey, Steve!
Hey, Jake!
Say, Steve!
Yes, Jake!
Do you like my Ferrari?
That’s nothing, you should see my Lam.
I go up the stairs, turn right, down a few offices to the end of the hall. As I walk towards Cap's door, I can hear chit-chit-chatter. Looks like he's got guests. Another one of his more shadier business ventures I suppose. The windows of some of the offices are busted, mine are cracked, and the thick smell of cigarettes emanate from underneath Shukutai's door. I'm dying for one right now. Cap's got a little lantern that you stick the cig in as soon as you got in your mouth to light it, resembles a Chojin. Japanese have taken over the world. I can see the videoboard geisha, white as porcelain, eyes blacker than obsidian, sing to me through the cracked windows of my office. Big Brother is watching.
I open the door to see Shukutai sitting behind his desk, tweedling his thumbs, cigarette burning between forefinger and f**k you finger. Raises eyes to mine, says "Mosh-mosh, Evadge. How's the low life going?" He snorts his primordial snot back through the tubes of his nose.
"Captain Shukutai."
I pause. I noticed four things wrong with this room: a pretty guy; a graying crew-cut, beer gut shirt-button buster in a wool coat; another chink, a girl, folding origami and sitting in the back, right corner, rocking her chair; and a woman of about forty, maternal looking, white coat.
"Don't be a gopher, Evadge. Sit down."
I do that.
"Cig?" he offers.
"Sure."
Light her up. Rock n' roll.
Leaning back into the leather seat, steam from my mouth like Godzilla, I draw my attention to Origami Girl. She's real focused on her art. So far, she's made a bear, a snake, a worm, and a butterfly. Staring at the paper facsimiles, I am lost. It happens a lot. I feel like I don't know where I am, what time it is. Sometimes, I don't even care what condition my body's in. I am simply numb. Butterfly.
I want one A little little orange one
"Yo!" I shout, fingers surrounding my mouth. Origami Girl doesn't answer.
The motherly looking one says, "That's Trish. She prefers to let her actions speak for her."
Shukutai: "Evadge, this is Dr. Cope. Dr. Cope, this is Evadge."
"Call me Eva."
"What's the problem with 'Evadge'?" Cope asks. She peeks down, then veers her eyes back to Shukutai. "Oh. I see. Pleasure to meet you." She extends her left hand. I reach for it, but it cuts through her like air.
"Artificially intelligent hologram, eh?"
Cope: "Precisely."
Cope introduces me to the two men sitting on my side. Exhibit A: Prettyboy.
"Evangeline, this is Doctor Klaus Krieger. Doctor Krieger, this is Evangeline."
Evangeline. Nobody but a fink calls me that. Fink's my name for a fed or a cop or any other spook type. Cope's voice is sincere, friendly, but firm. I could still hear the rain trickling outside, down the blue-glowing windows. I feel like I'm a detective in a vintage noir, about to get briefed on the case. How I wish I were color blind. Things would really be looking up.
Klaus. Blonde hair, about my height (five-eight). Quite muscular. Looks a great deal like Macaulay Culkin, except he's missing an eye, his right. He's got one of the new cyberpatches over it. I am certain it has an AR interface. He's got on a white t-shirt with an image of Friedrich Nietzche facepalming himself splattered across it. Blue jeans. Nikes. Awfully nihilistic attire for a doctor. Of what.
The fat guy's Holden. James Holden. Holden, me. Me, Holden. He says nothing, but he's got a look in his eyes. Fascination? No.
Shukutai's office has shitty air conditioning, and as a result, sweat is already beginning to drip down my oval face. My eyes are dancing.
Eva's bleak morning routine.
Trish (Asian cyborg working for Prometheus) gives her an origami figure instructing her to come to the principal's office.
Eva blackmailed by Krieger, the prinicipal, and her part-time boss into volunteering for a project.
Eva meets her Prometheus appointed psych, Holden.
Eva's job as a "runner".
Eva and Brian, ex-lovers, encounter each other.
Eva undergoes psychoanalysis.
Eva and Holden get drunk that same night and screw.
Eva is given an apple containing a DNA altering virus. She blacks out after eating it.
Eva is taken out of a womb-like construct by the docs. Holden cradles her naked, semi-conscious body.
Eva wakes up, gets disturbed, and a chase through the Prometheus Corporation HQ ensues. She discovers her new powers.
Further therapy strengthens her and her powers.
Eva is sent out into the world again.
Various students ask if she's feeling okay.
Other experimental subjects, roaming the school. New students.
Eva's first trial.
Eva meets Cameron, a nihilist. They screw a few hours after introducing each other.
Brian calls Eva. The latter tries to seduce him over the vidphone by caressing herself.
Cameron's philosophy is elaborated upon.
Eva's second trial.
Enter Natasha Grant, rich redesign.
Eva, Natasha and Cameron hang out at a spa.
Eva, Natasha, and Cameron do the Red Room, Natasha's privately owned nightclub. Brian is there. He and Eva dance, earning Cameron's ire.
Catharsis subjects confront Eva and Brian.
Trial three. More destructive, violent than the others.
Cameron edges closer to mental collapse.
Eva gets more paranoid. She's starting to freak out.
Eva asks Natasha for help.
Natasha is killed.
Eva finds Holden beaten, his house ransacked.
Cameron commits suicide.
Eva undergoes a mental breakdown.
Fourth trial: Kill Brian, because he's been investigating the Catharsis subjects. Trish has an eye gouged out, revealing she's a cyborg.
Eva and Brian fight.
Eva and Brian reconcile, and make love.
Eva travels to PCHQ to confront Krieger about the nature of the project. He reveals his master plan. Eva kills him in the subsequent fight. Eva tries to kill herself by blowing her brains out. She survives.
Eva and Brian are blackmailed into silence by Cope, Krieger's right-hand woman, and Corporation execs. Holden resigns, and Trish disappears, but not before giving Eva an origami figure of a butterfly, based on one of Eva's dreams.
Eva tells the traumatized Catharsis subjects to smell the roses.
Eva travels to a wasteland, laying on the ground. The wasteland morphs into a beautiful urban park. Eva closes her eyes.
Trish (Asian cyborg working for Prometheus) gives her an origami figure instructing her to come to the principal's office.
Eva blackmailed by Krieger, the prinicipal, and her part-time boss into volunteering for a project.
Eva meets her Prometheus appointed psych, Holden.
Eva's job as a "runner".
Eva and Brian, ex-lovers, encounter each other.
Eva undergoes psychoanalysis.
Eva and Holden get drunk that same night and screw.
Eva is given an apple containing a DNA altering virus. She blacks out after eating it.
Eva is taken out of a womb-like construct by the docs. Holden cradles her naked, semi-conscious body.
Eva wakes up, gets disturbed, and a chase through the Prometheus Corporation HQ ensues. She discovers her new powers.
Further therapy strengthens her and her powers.
Eva is sent out into the world again.
Various students ask if she's feeling okay.
Other experimental subjects, roaming the school. New students.
Eva's first trial.
Eva meets Cameron, a nihilist. They screw a few hours after introducing each other.
Brian calls Eva. The latter tries to seduce him over the vidphone by caressing herself.
Cameron's philosophy is elaborated upon.
Eva's second trial.
Enter Natasha Grant, rich redesign.
Eva, Natasha and Cameron hang out at a spa.
Eva, Natasha, and Cameron do the Red Room, Natasha's privately owned nightclub. Brian is there. He and Eva dance, earning Cameron's ire.
Catharsis subjects confront Eva and Brian.
Trial three. More destructive, violent than the others.
Cameron edges closer to mental collapse.
Eva gets more paranoid. She's starting to freak out.
Eva asks Natasha for help.
Natasha is killed.
Eva finds Holden beaten, his house ransacked.
Cameron commits suicide.
Eva undergoes a mental breakdown.
Fourth trial: Kill Brian, because he's been investigating the Catharsis subjects. Trish has an eye gouged out, revealing she's a cyborg.
Eva and Brian fight.
Eva and Brian reconcile, and make love.
Eva travels to PCHQ to confront Krieger about the nature of the project. He reveals his master plan. Eva kills him in the subsequent fight. Eva tries to kill herself by blowing her brains out. She survives.
Eva and Brian are blackmailed into silence by Cope, Krieger's right-hand woman, and Corporation execs. Holden resigns, and Trish disappears, but not before giving Eva an origami figure of a butterfly, based on one of Eva's dreams.
Eva tells the traumatized Catharsis subjects to smell the roses.
Eva travels to a wasteland, laying on the ground. The wasteland morphs into a beautiful urban park. Eva closes her eyes.