Citizen 16

When I christened September ‘Productivity Month’ (which I did, by the way) I’d always planned to use some time to take a long hard look at my long-dormant novel. As I go through this process I’ll post some of the thoughts and notes here, assuming that those notes aren’t too spoiler-ish. In the first instance, it seemed like a good idea to re-familiarise myself with some of the themes that are to run through the book.

The Multiverse!

Yeah, I know. To be fair I had planned this story long before parallel universes started to become the most overused idea in fiction. Surely that should count for something?

In my favour is the fact that I’m not using the multiple worlds in a quantum sense. While I’m sure the implications of an entire separate universe in which the only difference is that I had Frosted Wheats for breakfast instead of 2 cigarettes and some coffee are genuinely fascinating; it just seems slightly wasteful. Therefore parallel universes in my fiction won’t feature slightly different versions of my main characters because those characters don’t exist in separate universes. Some names and events may be similar however, due to the Law of Narrative Convenience (this is, genuinely, a law I conceived so that Led Zeppelin references could be made in multiple worlds.) There’s actually a specific event in Earth’s history that I’m thinking of tying to the creation of multiple universes – take a quick look over the history of our planet and see if you can guess which!

The actual import of parallel universes is significant in the overarching narrative of the book but not in the characters specific journey. Much more important to them is the existence of sub-dimensions: small realms whose existence is intrinsically tied to its version of Earth. I need to find a way to make that not confusing.

Magic/Science

One thing I want to be a solid theme within the book is the divide between both magic and science. Characters will attempt to treat the magical force that is present in the world as something that can be studied, tested and controlled. The reason for this is because the magic present in the primary reality was never meant to exist there. The attempt to study and control this wild, unpredictable, living (sort-of) force will be key to the narrative set-up.

Politics

I’m a big fan of the Empire trilogy by Raymond E. Feist and Janny Wurts. One of the interesting elements of their books is the way different houses are forced into varying positions based on their clans and political affiliation.

Thanks to the nature of the city the story is set in and, in part, due to both themes mentioned above, there is no acknowledgement of the government of the country. Instead politics with the city happen on a grass-roots level: public houses choose to affiliate with a particular interest group, providing a base of operations and sense of fellowship for those that believe, or are willing to believe, in that group’s ideals.

As someone who grew up in a pub this is a pretty natural extension of reality. You can blame the newspapers and the media for setting the level of discussion among the ‘common man’ but just as powerful are the politics discussed among the locals at whichever pub you frequent. It’s they who set the tone for that particular pub and, based on that constant base, influences the sort of people who will generally frequent and feel at home in that particular location.

It does mean that I’ll need to come up with a name for an organisation that is ‘basically CAMRA’ that isn’t CAMRA, because I’m going to be very mean about them.

Layers

You know, like onions. Not like parfait. One of the prime driving factors of the story is that none of the characters actually have the whole story. Most are just working with the knowledge that they’ve been given, however inaccurate it may be. At the bottom end of this are the two main characters, Ash and Roe, who collectively know absolutely nothing and are dragged into the narrative by a quirk of fate… or Fate… or ‘fate’.

Most characters are being lied to. Even the ones who aren’t being lied to are being told the ‘truth’ by someone who is being lied to. This makes it bloody complicated for me to remember who actually knows what, and is the primary reason why I have a hell of a lot of note taking to do before I actually write anything.

These are just a few of the things that will make up Twisted City should it ever get released. As the story only exists in my head at current it does mean huge chunks are frequently being re-written, but these central concepts and plot points are the ones that have proven the most durable over the years. Feel free to comment and suggest and voice concerns; at this stage any feedback is welcome and will be considered, even if it won’t necessarily be acted upon.

[Recently I posted my second short story; the first of what I hope will build up into a prequel series for future projects. Think of this post as a kind of DVD-style commentary divulging certain notes and background information. By all means ignore it and let the stories speak for themselves. If you haven't read the story yet then do that first.]

Firstly, some info on the story itself:

It should be pretty obvious that I’ve never worked for any directory enquiries service, nor do I know anyone who does. I don’t imagine for a second that any of them actually hire people to specifically pander to pissheads. I do know that no such Golden Rule exists because on a couple of times we’ve drunkenly text them they’ve responded with an “I don’t know” or “No information is available”. Luckily there is a very specific narrative reason as to why the story’s company seemingly only operates in this one city and is very much in the business of pandering to the shitcanned classes… Ooh.. foreshadowing.

One such time was when we asked them if Slash was richer than Valentino Rossi. This was easily the most passionate drunken argument over pointless minutia I’ve ever had. Fitzy actually stormed out of the flat during a particularly heated exchange. Of course the next day we were in the pub laughing about it, such is the nature of these arguments.

We also asked the main Question that has been causing Roe such soul searching. For those that don’t know, and for shame if you’re in that category, Jimmy Page is the guitarist in Led Zeppelin. The actual answer we got back was:

In a physical brawl between Jimmy Page and the Pope in Rome, no one wins because the Pope is guarded & will not fight & Page will be shot if he harms him.

Now for some more general background on the series itself:

It feels slightly strange having something publically released under the Twisted City banner. As a concept it has existed for around 7 years, in one form or another. Originally a planned webcomic written by me and drawn by a friend (incidentally, I should take a second to thank Dom for naming Ash and Roe, the main characters, because I hate naming things). When we couldn’t be bothered to make that I started adapting the story for novelisation – a process somewhat halted by the fact that I lost everything when my laptop died a couple of years ago. This is the first time since then that I’ve written anything substantial for the series.

The purpose of the TC Episodes is to tell mini stories that focus on character development. Sometimes these will focus on the main characters and sometimes they won’t. Hopefully through time the mystery of the city in which the story is set will start to come into focus, but there won’t be anything in the way of major plot development.

The reasons for choosing this as the first episode story were twofold. Firstly, and most importantly, I’ve always had a much better hold of Ash as a character and it seemed necessary to focus some time purely on Roe, even if he does spend the majority of the story in a “fragile state”. Secondly, I’d never planned on revealing what Roe’s job was, only that he had one. It is, of course, a rubbish mystery and so as an act of defiance I decided the first thing to be written should be exactly that.

Finally I should point out, although this should be obvious, that there is no timetable for releasing these. When a strong enough concept rears its head then I’m usually pretty motivated to get it written – this story was conceptualised and written in less than a day. That said, the original first episode has been sat on a notepad for over a year, so who knows…

Roe stared at the screen. He blinked. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he wordlessly recalled the advice given out during the training he received months earlier and the advice of colleagues considered older and wiser than he was. It didn’t help. He blinked again. That also didn’t help but, to be sure, he closed his eyes as tight as he could, scrunching up his face so hard that lights danced inside his eyelids. Previous attempts to will the Universe into being somehow different had never worked but Roe hoped that maybe this time, when he needed it the most, reality would give him a break. As pain receptors fired throughout his head and the noise of the office dulled and was replaced by the muffled liquid thump of blood rushing through his body, Roe took a deep breath and forced himself to confront the world. It remained the same.

The buzz emanating from Roe’s leg informed that help was at hand. In desperation he had turned to his flatmate Ash for advice. Opening up the mobile Roe prayed for something positive to work with.

“Sorry dude. Don’t get me wrong, he’s got game but the Crusades? The inquisition? Plus a fuckton of bodyguards… One man couldn’t deal. Also: How about vexed? Or tormented would probably do. Sorry.”

That didn’t help. Vexed was good though. Ash had a tendency to operate as a human thesaurus, picking any word during a conversation except for the one that was the most plain. This wasn’t out of some malicious effort to appear superior, as seems to be the intention of most people with this affectation, but instead an almost private game of Ash’s making. He liked to play with language in the way that other people might do Sudoku puzzles. As Ash liked to point out, at least his method didn’t involve buying a newspaper. Usually Roe preferred the most direct method of making a point, but in this case ‘shook-up’ just wasn’t working. He was vexed.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Roe took the job primarily because it looked like it would provide plenty of scope for amusing pub anecdotes, a valuable commodity in his social circle. From what he’d heard from the day shift they mostly had to field questions on directions, cinema times, local amenities, recipes; everyday boring stuff. If they were lucky they’d get a “What else was [Insert minor actor] in?” He was usually glad to be working the evening shift where they were mostly asked to settle increasingly drunken pub arguments. The directory enquiries service had employed a new batch of people, including Roe, ever since they found their “Text us any question” service was peaking around 10 as, across the city, voices were being raised about the exact minutia of a football game 30 years ago, or truths were being invoked as “God’s honest” only to be shot down in a chorus of dissent.

Roe’s training had been focused on how to deal with such drunken enquiries. The golden rule was to never give up. If the question didn’t make sense you should focus on a word or phrase and define it. If the question has no researchable answer, or was clearly absurd, then don’t have any qualms about being absurd back. Getting a ridiculous answer back from them usually proved so amusing to previously red-faced arguers that they would forget all about the conflict moments earlier. Roe had once got a question asking whether Valentino Rossi was richer than Slash and had responded that he was spiritually richer because he’d never had to work with Axl Rose.

Roe had taken to his job mostly, he assumed, because he was well versed in drunken conversation. It also helped that his flatmate worked in their local pub. Ash would often text Roe in advance to warn him of the arguments that were likely to flare up. This gave him plenty of time to prepare. Apparently the Valentino Rossi argument had progressed to physical violence by the time his reply had arrived at which point it was replaced with laughter and a full hour of Guns N’ Roses sing-a-longs (for which Ash still hadn’t forgiven him.) If there was one thing that Roe hadn’t expected, it was that this job would shake his very belief system to the core. It was never meant to force him to re-evaluate his icons.

His mind raced as he weighed up the options. Even without the ‘golden rule’ if he just gave in and sent the placeholder “Your question cannot be answered” text it would still linger in the back of his mind. It would be, always and forever, a cop-out. He wouldn’t be able to hold his head up high in the knowledge that he had defended his hero against all reasonable odds. He thought of the second rule, “Don’t take sides: It’s not important, it’s a drunken argument.” Even then Roe had found the rule uncomfortably dismissive. Some of the most thought-provoking discussions of his life had taken place in their local after four or five pints. As Ash would point out,
“They call it ‘setting the world to rights’ as if it’s a silly cliché. Nothing could be less silly. We’re defining our view of the world; seeing the injustices and debating the solutions. If we don’t set our world to rights how the fuck could we ever hope to start on the real thing?”

Here, now, the idea of not taking sides seemed downright offensive. How could they understand so little? The office laughs and jokes about the “ridiculous, idiotic questions” but have they ever actually believed in anything? Do they even know what conviction, or passion, actually is? Roe was ready to explode, to show them all what it meant to truly know something beyond all reason.

Suddenly, for the first time since The Question had appeared on his screen he became aware of his surroundings. The tapping of keyboards, the quickly snatched conversations between sessions of work, even the slightly chemical smell as someone poured the boiled kettle into a pot of what would, hopefully, become the edible contents of their lunch. He sensed a disturbance behind his shoulder.

“You Would Not Believe!” Carl was approaching and doing his usual trick of emphasising every single word. “Man, you’ll never guess! I just had a question from some bloke asking where the G-spot was. No Word Of A Lie!”

It was every word of a lie. He’d spoken to people who’d worked here long enough to know that nobody, ever, asks for sex tips. The type of people who would even consider it are, generally speaking, the same type of people who don’t want the government staff, who they assume monitor all communications, to know they can’t satisfy a woman. Carl, though, was the type of person who had to trump your story before you’d even had chance to announce you had a story.

“So what have you got?” Carl asked, already looking at the screen, “Oh man, that’s classic. Tell you what send it to me. I’ve got a fucking killer answer!”

Roe breathed a sigh of relief as Carl returned to his desk. He wouldn’t have a ‘killer’ answer, it would just be a lame attempt at humour, but that didn’t matter to Roe. The question was being deferred. It was the professional move, he told himself. He was, after all, too involved. It was a conflict of interest. That sounded good! A cop-out to be sure, but one Roe felt he could live with. Roe opened up the forward screen and took one final look at the question,

“Who would win in a fight between the Pope and Jimmy Page?”

He pressed send. “Jimmy could do it… Somehow…” He said this to nobody in particular and got back to work.