“EoD” not popular lol bringing “Ghouls”

Posted: April 4, 2014 in Random
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Well past couple of days I have noticed that my “The End of Dayes” story has not been as well received as my “EMP”. For the record I wrote “EoD” first, “EMP” was my latest work and I’ve been since adding new paragraphs to it and expanding it’s universe.

I assume that “EoD” isn’t as popular because it is based on the Fallout Universe, I will be posted another short story soon that follows the same Fallout universe, but this one will be an alternative reality based on the games. In the upcoming short story called “Ghouls”, the narrator explores how the world came to end, how WW3 came to destroy man, and how that behind the scenes of the game, the sole survivor and reason behind the end of the world has been following the main characters of the game, teaching them and guiding them towards doing the right thing.

It’s a psychological examination of man, and how morality changes everybody, for the better or the worse. It also explores the fact that history was written by the victors. My proudest accomplishment with this story is that it completely follows the Fallout Timeline, and a completely unknown/ forgotten character Charles Ringhold (He’s in the official timeline, but little do they know, he survived the explosion and went on to create the world as we know it)

If you like Fallout or post-apocalyptic action stories then you will love this! WARNING! GRAPHIC CONTENT! I’ll be making a page for it soon, stay tuned!

Here’s a preview of things to come!

October 1st, 2077, 3:40 am, I am awake, barely. It is hard to believe the pressure and expectations *they* have for us. I put on my Fedora and grab my coat, heading to work. I hope to God the monorail isn’t late again. You would think that after a hundred years, primitive machines would run perfectly. “There’s no reason you should be late” is something that I am tired of hearing. If only we had the fuel to spare, I could drive my fucking Highwayman to work every day! It smells like it again…death in the air. As I look up into the rising sun, I can feel the anxiety of a new world, the fears of tomorrow. The great science that is failing us: the Great War soon to come. It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost eleven years since the Chinese first invaded Alaska, but things aren’t looking well. With the rise of nuclear warfare as a common denominator in modern warfare, and the great technology of Plasma and Laser weaponry, there is little hope for peace. It’s hard to believe… it’s just hard to believe. A hundred and fifty years ago, the world saw the fall of Hitler and a new paradigm to study: World Wars. But how little we knew of the future, how little we cared about life…
It’s October 1st, the first day of the month, and coming on strong to my fall. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore, the things that I have done! The things that I will do! There is nothing worse than doing the job you hate, but none the less, a job that must be done. In Oregon, I am a scientist, a greatly trained soldier for this… fine country. But it wasn’t always so. It is almost like waking up from a bad dream, “Corporal, you have been reassigned. No more fiddling with peace, bio-chemical warfare cures, or the counting of supplies.” No, that was too much to ask for; the chance at rebuilding and fixing our stupid mistakes. Now I am assigned to studying Brain Bots, and providing “security for the research floor.” “Would you like to volunteer?” asked one of the scientists, fuck no I replied. You and your whole goddamn team of miscreants can literally go fuck yourselves. There was no way I was going to “volunteer” my brain for surgery, or a false sense of security.

“Anderson”, I said as I walked calmly into the lab, “what’s the news?”
“Brain Bots are going well”, he says. “Plenty of volunteers” Something I just couldn’t believe, who the hell would volunteer to having their brains removed? I asked him suspiciously, but I was reasonable with him. He told me that the spiel HR wrote up about it not being a permanent surgery suckered in nearly a third of the investors. They were tricking people into donating their brains to the army.

“We lied to them? About… the safety… in all of this?” “Of course” he says. “The base has been using “military volunteers” for weeks, prisoners are cheaper than recruits.” “Whose idea was this?” I asked, “You know I never approved of scooping out prisoner brains for Brain Bots! Now we’re using the rejects for experimenting? Who fucking approved this?!”
“Spindel,” he says, clearly too afraid to lie to me again. I take him by the neck and ask him gently, “does it make you feel better? For God’s sakes Anderson, we used to be soldiers! Don’t you remember what it was like to be the governments bitch?! Where the fuck is Spindel?! What kind of man authorizes this?!” “He’s… He’s in his office! Down by Mariposa, testing the new products.”
What new products? What are they doing down there? How come no one asked me directly! I am the leading scientist and security expert for this fucking place! How come I don’t have a say in what we do with our prisoners! For fuck’s sake Anderson! You’d better tell me before it’s too goddamn late! “I don’t know!” screams Anderson, “not even my own men were informed. We just deliver the test subjects and monitor their vitals! I really don’t know what they’re doing down there! Honest!” I punched him repeatedly, until he screamed “Court martial! Court martial!” Shut up Anderson, twenty years from now when you have died, you will be burning in Hell remembering the lives that you just threw away.

 

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