Low-Scale Writing Update
I Still Exist, I Promise
Apologies to anyone that has been eagerly awaiting more information on my novel (there’s gotta be at least one person out there, right?) I’ve been writing, and then deciding I hate what I wrote, and then pushing on like the mature person I am since eventually I’ll have to edit the hell outta this thing anyway. It makes it into the manuscript, but it usually embarrasses me too much to put it on here.
It has however recently been pointed out to me that it is far better to be consistent than anything else. In certain ways, my ambition for each article has gotten the better of me. That’s why, instead of throwing whole chapters and essays of commentary interspersed with useless information, I figured it might be better if I just put something much shorter. What I have hear is only 700 words—4 paragraphs, but I think might be fun to throw in here anyway. I’ll still give limited commentary when needed, but I think it’s a much more digestible way to present this, for both reader and writer.
Anyway, without further ado:
The End of History - VI
Written for The Caravan in Collaboration with the Associated Press Sovereign Enclave
By Ulysses Adlai Singh
For context on this character and his story already, see this article and this article. For context on what is happening in this plot point, see this article. The short version is—Ulysses is a reporter covering a quickly-developing massive Olympic doping scandal, and he is just touching down in Brussels to interview the inside source.
Traveling across Europe by flycraft was an experience fraught by frequent annoyances. While one could expect to have a moment of rest crossing over the massive territory of American and Asian states, Europe was always sure to throw alerts into the eyes of weary travelers when passing over every single one of their many federal regions, still pretending to be independent countries. Every few minutes it made sure to demand my full attention, alerting me to whatever changes in guidelines I might be encountering during my momentary flyover into their territory. Once, during a particularly excruciating journey from Dublin to Athens, a colleague mused that this was Europe’s way of reminding everyone that they were indeed still around. The notification was the only system in which they could make sure that, even in their reduced relevance, the Germanies and Frances and Serbias and Swedens still existed in their own limited fashions. They demanded such attention even while their superstate faded from importance among an enclave-driven world.
The message as we touched down in Brussels read: Bienvenue á Bruxelles (Brussels). European Commission common law is now in effect. European federal regulations are now in effect. European Special-Designated Zone restrictions and privileges are now in effect. If carrying any illicit materials or substances, please report immediately to the nearest Customs centre for negotiation. If staying for longer than one month, please report to the nearest EUFare fulfillment centre as soon as is convenient to transfer social minimums from your previous location. I suppose it was also in typical European fashion to blast such an imposing wall of information into the view of all visitors—most other states valued brevity in their crossing notifications, and others have abandoned the practice altogether. As with most visitors, none of the message remotely applied to me. I was quite comfortable with the social minimums under AP’s Per Diem, and most enclaves worked out agreements a century ago allowing their members to carry basically anything they wanted without fear of inspection. Additionally, with the exception of the Common Coordinated Laws that barred the violent and victimed criminal actions, I could follow AP law and essentially ignore that which had been passed down from Brussels. Before the crisis, only about five percent of the global population would actually be subject to any part of this message. Yet across the continent, they inundated our eyes all the same.
It didn’t take long to reach my destination—we had landed right out in front of the local Black Box. Besides its logo flashing on most of the news bulletins. the Black Boxes were the most influential image of the Associated Press in our time—for those of you too far removed from such a prevailing image of my enclave. The building evoked the image of a Group structure. It was monolithic, imposing with its single visible doorway and windowless walls. The key difference was the highly reflective obsidian-black material that covered the block. I made my way through the entrance, meeting a thorough check at security. An escort led me through darkened rooms, while a constant hum of some machinery dominated the background noise. Every hallway we passed were completely bare. No objects of any kind, no trash bins in the rooms or the halls. The Black Boxes contained no way to potentially sneak out information on physical documents. Even our notes had to be written on physical paper, and transported through diplomatic pouches to our main offices. I can of course say that because all this information is essentially open to the public. How we bring in our guests is the real secret everyone wants to know—and no, I’m not telling.
I gotta say I’m pretty proud of this idea. It might be a bit overkill, but I like the image of these uncanny imposing brutalist structures that look like a villain’s lair being in reality a location to protect whistleblowers.
This is, of course, to protect the subjects of our most important articles. The Black Boxes were impenetrable forces of secrets. They would be the envy of any intelligence agency in our history. Any piece of information that eventually blossomed into a breaking scandal or crisis was discovered, cataloged, and positioned to strike its target inside the Black Boxes. It took decades of treaties to allow their existence, and their construction was the contemporary equivalent of a feudal lord killing all the workers building their castle’s secret passageways. Trillions of Euros, Dollars, Rubles, what have you were exchanged to create an entirely automated workforce, who were all atomized at the conclusion of the process.
And, wow, that’s it! I think I got this whole thing under 1500 words, which might be a first. Anyone interested in learning more should check out some of my other articles, or badger me for chapters, because I am happy to provide them. This has been much easier to do, so I think it’s in my best interests to just regularly throw out a few morsels of the book instead of entire chapters, so look out for another one of these, coming much sooner than last time!
Love it. Yes, more regular posts. They don't all have to be epic life changing monumental ideas. We like a glimpse into the process and the regular musings of a young adult just building up steam in the world. Thanks Mitchell.