I don’t cater much to coincidence, long enough to pay some attention. And when Chuck Wendig’s challenge last week to build out a character hit, safe to say I paid some attention. I’ve been having some vivid dreams that don’t really make sense, follow any kind of navigation. Then shortly before last Friday came the wayward thought, what if they weren’t dreams? What would that mean?
Hang on, what if…
Someone connects to someone else in their last moments, so they aren’t dying alone. Weird dreams would be the rationalization. Little harder to rationalize one when it seems to play out on the wire with NEWS splayed in a myriad of ways. The face setting off a cacophony of images/feelings/terror all the way until everything went black. And you woke up.
That’s the idea that led to Nove (I hear it has No-veh, but the challenge lets you do as you do, should you be inspired. I am, I want to take this to a full on story).
And I paired it with the questions about technology advancements isolating people from other people. And a little from having family of m’own near their end, not wanting to be alone in the hospital when their time’s done.
Then Chuck said go create life. Soooo, I did. It’s 250 words into Nove’s mind, set in the far future where they refer to centuries as we know them as C### (C21=21st Century).
Nove’s considered average height yet takes solace in the fact that average height circa C21 was 5’6″. Still sore being shy of 6,’ she revels in the mix of awe and tinge of fear her height provides to a number of assholes. Nove’s fond of the language that was considered ‘strong’ per warnings before fiction records. Film just doesn’t sound like minutes of entertainment, unless its a lubricant for…other entertainments. Her fascination with the puerile twentieth century people saw her compare her appearance with the contradicting standards of beauty of that time. While she’s a quick study, the societal constructs still baffle, though she’s certain her body frame with its healthy musculature and body fat (for optimal hit absorption) would’ve been considered either ‘exotic’ or too ‘masculine.’ Maybe athletic, if there was generosity. She was unsure about her skin- an ocher with bronzing that reminds of a late autumn day, peppered with freckles and life’s marks. Or about the tight corkscrew coils of her hair that hide it’s longer than just above shoulder length. Or how her joy tinting the argent strands that dance among obsidian tresses would land. She’s much more certain her ability would be binary. It may be binary in the present, a blemish on the hallowed ideals of civilization today. She’s still busy invoking that quick studiedness; trying to fathom the implications after realizing she wasn’t having vivid dreams but connections with strangers. What it says about their utopia that a gift evolved so none would die alone.