August 19, 2014

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
H Trope: ZOMBIES! (*sigh*, again…)

Quân Nhung sighed as he swiped the story off his comppad and said, “This claim that Ebola doesn’t create zombies out of Humans is just a ploy by Chinese Imperialists to annex us and create another prefecture for Beijing to bleed us dry.” He laid it down on his desk and returned his attention to his own computer, and tapped his screen, saying, “What do you make of Ebola jumping to Haiti?”

Chenda Dara shook her head, “Everything’s a ‘ploy by Chinese Imperials’ to you. How did you ever make it into the International CDC if you think everything’s a plot against normal people?”

Quân looked over at her and snorted as he activated his keyboard projector and began typing while he ranted, “The reason they hired me, Chenda is because I’m a paranoid conspiracist. They need people like me to generate the scenarios they use to create plans to counter endless permutations of apocalypse. If I wasn’t like this, people who trust the rest of the world implicitly would all be dead now.”

“You used circular logic to prove only that you’re good at using circular logic to justify your paranoia.”

He genially flipped her off. Even though they were both seventeen, they were the best Vietnam had been able to produce since calling up the debt America owed them – a debt they counted in permanently denuded a countryside, a slaughtered generation of men, and an infrastructure totally fractured. The US responded guiltily by boosting every child whose family desired it. He and Chenda each had the informational equivalent of a PhD in microbiology and computational simulation technology. The Center for Disease Control had moved to Hanoi when the US government sterilized Atlanta after an outbreak of pneumAIDS appeared from a mutated virus and leaped out of control, taking most of the state of Georgia with it.

However...however...Quân said, “This whole idea of a zombie plague is idiotic! Who do the Chinese think we are? Superstitious ancestor worshippers?” He rolled his eyes and looked up, “Chenda?” Cussing, he stood up, stretched and followed her out to the smoking deck. At least that’s where he thought she’d gone. He stepped out into the steamy night air of the fiftieth floor balcony of the Hanoi CDC Needle – both symbolic and practical – on top of it was a communication center with a direct link to the American-owned CDC satellite as well as a broadcast tower that could use any frequency known to Humanity. “Chenda?” He took out a pack of real tobacco cigarettes – rare and heavenly as well as affordable on his salary – and lit up.

From the shadowy area near the window, Chenda said, “You have to be the most foolish paranoid I’ve ever met, Quân.”


Chenda stepped out of the shadows, “You really think zombies shamble in this day and age? You think we walk around with our arms stretched out and grunt and groan incoherently?” He hand lashed out, grabbing his, knocking the cigarette over the balustrade. He screamed as she bite the fleshy part of his lower arm; bit through the expensive silk shirt and tore a piece of living, bloody flesh from his body…

Names: Khmer, Old Celt ; ♂ Vietnam

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