Thursday, June 8, 2017

Chapter 12

What follows is the start of Chapter 12 from my forthcoming release 22 Stories: Falling Up. Rewriting just this small section took me more than an hour. And I still don't know if it's right. Hence the need for yet another editorial pass over the entire novel, once I finish with this one. Despite the writing delays presented by life, I think it will be no more than two months before 22 Stories: Falling Up is made available on Amazon. I meant to have it out by the end of last month (May), but I guess the end of July will have to suffice.

***

"Huh. Another landing with a door." Phillip states the obvious.
A solitary green bulb planted in the wall just above the door shines in the darkness.
"There's a security device, too. Like the one Boaz opened up." He ponders the situation. "You don't know the code, do you?"
"Of course not." Emily walks over to the door and pushes her hand through its surface. "We're virtual, remember?"
Oh, right, he thinks.
You've got the telepathy down! Emily passes through the door like a ghost.
Phillip does the same.
On the other side is a short hallway leading to the rear of a low auditorium. The auditorium is dimly lit by the green light projected from a media turret suspended in its ceiling's center and aimed at the large movie screen hung along the far wall. The turret stamps the screen with the Virtual Design logo, the inverted compass of which glows emerald neon against a more subdued sage. Grasping at this image and the pinewood podium in front of it, a great mahogany U of a table squats in the middle of the otherwise open floor of the darkened chamber.
Surreal, thinks Phillip.

***June 18 rewrite***sigh***

"Huh. Another landing with a door," declares Phillip. He takes note of the solitary green light planted in the wall just above. It shines its verdant light down into the darkness of the stairwell. He also notices a keypad to the left of the door. "There's a security device, like the one Boaz used." He ponders, "You don't know the code, do you?"
"Of course not." Emily walks over to the door and pushes her hand through its surface. "We're virtual, remember?"
Oh, right, he thinks.
At least you've got the telepathy down! Emily passes through the door like a ghost.
Phillip does the same.
On the other side, a short hallway leads to the rear of an auditorium. A media turret, stuck in the middle of the auditorium's low ceiling, projects Virtual Design's logo on the screen on the far wall. The logo's inverted compass glows neon green against a more subdued wash of blue. Within the otherwise unlit auditorium, a great U-shaped table squats on the floor's dark gray carpeting, and the arms of this mahogany table grasp at the pinewood podium just eight feet in front of the logo onscreen.
Surreal, Phillip mentally broadcasts.