At the end of the rainbow

Personally, I’m a great fan of dystopian novels. I like how they confirm my opinion of humanity being an absolute clusterfuck working on mostly luck. My name’s misanthropist, and the name’s the game.

Your contemporary dystopia starts in the present. Well, it doesn’t start in the presence literally (literally.), but rather in the mind of the author; he is the one who just imagines the world in its current state, starts the clock, and does his own, usually evil, interpretation of how things might run from here on out. Of course you have to add some spice or ideas which you personally want to rant about, since you don’t want a bland pseudodocumentary, but rather an interesting story. But this is where it starts. And with the ways some books take, you can’t help yourself being afraid of what the future might herald.

Just like in Vernor Vinge’s novel “Rainbows End” (sic!); I don’t want to go into the details of the book, but that is fine, since you can just read it online free of charge. A great move, and totally in term with the content of the book. (Sort of, at least.)

P.S.: Vernor Vinge, you’re a mathemagician, computer scientist and science fiction writer. In short: everything I ever want to be when I grow up. I just can’t help liking you.

Wayfarers: Prologue

He turned a corner, hoping to buy some time from his pursuers, and sped along the alleyway in front of him. Sharp metallic steps could be heard behind him, rather like hoofs clappering among cobble. He seriously wished it were hoofs, as horses aren’t really dangerous. But they were still a bit away, he could make it.
The rain was pounding heavily on the roofs around him, adding to the monstrous sound of the steps.
Comparing the alley to a trail in the woods would be a serious insult to nature. Someone seems to make a living of going up and down through the alley, randomly kicking a few full trashcans around. The ground was littered with scattered trash and leaves the wind carried in after they fell from the trees. The condition of the pavement was a mess. There were lots of small holes the rain filled up to puddles, and so he was not only splashed with water from above, but from below, too.
He didn’t mind. He was already soaking wet a couple of minutes ago, when he started to run. He didn’t bother about getting a cold or seriously ruining his clothes. He’d be happy when he got out of this mess in one piece – and alive.
He slipped while treading over a newspaper which was covering another puddle, falling flat on his face. A bit of blood trickled on the ground, mixing with the rainwater, forming two-coloured spirals..
Looking up at the sky, he immediately discarded the thought arising in his head. He wasn’t good at ground movement, but they’d shoot him down with no problems if he left it.
Being far too weakened to try other means of escape, he staggered up and continued to run, but reached the end of the alley.
Dead end.
Turning around, he saw the faint glint of glowing little orbs at the other end of the alley.
Acting as fast as he could, he faced to the high wall of one of the alley-side buildings, and jumped in it’s direction, and then pushed with his feet against the wall to accelerate in the other direction. Turning around, he managed to grab the drainpipe and pull him self up.
A sound like a small thunderstorm shook the night, and he noticed a flash at the end of the alley, where the little orbs were.
Then, the bullet hit him in the left arm. The knock of the impact sent him sprawling back to the ground of the alley, spinning around. The arm was flailing helplessly in the air.
With one big thump his body slapped the ground, spilling some more blood. The metallic sound of the steps came nearer, until eventually a large black armoured foot lowered itself to the ground before his face.
The trooper grabbed him by his neck, the servos in his powered armour howling as he lifted the still breathing body from the ground, until the dark, reddened eyes and the rest of the blood-splattered and torn face were up to level with the glowing orbs that were his eyes.
“Why do you always run? You’re finished. You and your whole race. You’ll only die tired.”
The prey chuckled and coughed some blood, its body shaking in a spasm of the slowly dying organism.
“Your pitiful people will never stop us. Can’t you see this? You think you are superior, but you are not. You hide behind your technology and your ignorance. If we hadn’t helped you in times past, you would still be a couple of primitive tribes.”
“Talk as much as you want, stranger, you’re coming with us. We’ve got a special little room set up for you at base.”
The stranger looked coldly into the mask that was the face of the soldier, staring into the glowing eyes, remembering why he was in this situation, without any assistance, in the hand of the enemies..
He remembered the look on her face as he saved her from them who are his captors now, after healing her wounds – how he then ran away, yelling to her that she should run as fast as she can, that they wouldn’t follow her because of him.. He remembered how she stared at him. He still felt how he used the powers given to him to heal her, and saw what price he is paying now..
But it could not be undone. He could only hope to repent for what he has done, and hope that it isn’t too late.
He faded back into the real world around him, still looking at the soldier.
“No. I will not come with you.”
“Try to stop us.”
Quicker than they’d ever expected him to react, he reached to his belt with his still working arm, grabbing a small device..
The soldier never finished his yell, ceasing to exist after the device activated, obliterated along with everything else in the vicinity.
A gust of wind blew away a bit of ash.