Father and Mother had already knew that their three improved children love drawing and writing their stories (like Father does), so they slowly introduced them to some of his works in his personal library. Initially, Father permitted the children to borrow a few drawings and books of his (which they shared), and this has caused them to pester him into teaching them more.
Sunday, 23 November 2014
Thursday, 16 October 2014
TOTA - Part Six - His Future (ARC 2: The Past)
Refusing to give up on understanding their father, they obeyed, and concentrated more on their studies, as father instructed them to. Although they could have improved from their education, they instead made themselves more miserable, hoping that their parents will understand their plight.
But at last, the children themselves gave up, and returned to their old ways. Will their father be so much of an expecting robot to punish them? Or will he himself think again?
But at last, the children themselves gave up, and returned to their old ways. Will their father be so much of an expecting robot to punish them? Or will he himself think again?
Tuesday, 14 October 2014
TOTA - Part Six - His Future (ARC 1: The Present)
'There once lived a father, who was so strict, that he prohibited his children from many things.' We've heard of that story before, many times over. But how did he end up this way?
His children, three boys and one girl, are unhappy with his style of parenting so badly, they even feared returning home from school. They are now fed up with his constant dictating of almost every decision, however small, of their lives; his over-emphasis on education; and and his 'seizure' of their entertainment (from banning television to donating all of their toys to charity upon reaching their respective ninth birthdays). They are upset that the only people they are allowed to interact with outside their family are usually the more cultured, well-educated 'snobs' (who, nonetheless, understand them more caringly than their parents do). Worst of all, they are absolutely barred from even drawing or writing their own stories (unless if it is a school assignment), which instead starts to motivate them to wonder why (aside from turning them into workplace robots like him), and how, did their dad become the sad, tormenting (and tormented) father he is today.
His children, three boys and one girl, are unhappy with his style of parenting so badly, they even feared returning home from school. They are now fed up with his constant dictating of almost every decision, however small, of their lives; his over-emphasis on education; and and his 'seizure' of their entertainment (from banning television to donating all of their toys to charity upon reaching their respective ninth birthdays). They are upset that the only people they are allowed to interact with outside their family are usually the more cultured, well-educated 'snobs' (who, nonetheless, understand them more caringly than their parents do). Worst of all, they are absolutely barred from even drawing or writing their own stories (unless if it is a school assignment), which instead starts to motivate them to wonder why (aside from turning them into workplace robots like him), and how, did their dad become the sad, tormenting (and tormented) father he is today.
Sunday, 5 October 2014
TOTA - Intermission 2 - Concerning Complaints
Dear Dad,
You are not alone -- some of those who had flooded my postbox with nasty mail seem to despise us because our works seem too "cliché". Since you've been asking me about whatever I've been doing on the past few weeks since I had moved out, I myself am also struggling with my recent writing career; and if you're asking me now on what I'm to do when these rascals come about (as they harassed many other authors before), I'm going to leave them be. If they're causing any serious harm, I'm going to report them over. Don't worry.
P. S. Can you please just calm down? I know that we all don't like clichés, but please know that it will always be impossible to escape every cliché in existince. I know that I may sound silly, but please be yourself. Don't let anyone stop you!
From your concerned daughter,
Felicia Priamus.
Monday, 15 September 2014
TOTA - Part 5 - Operation Polophylax (Part 2)
Deep inside an enormous, ice-carved chamber of the vast Pagos Dome, beneath the encrusted frost, the parkas-clad Dr. Roland and his daughter had just finished packing up several black, heavy components of what appears to be a supercomputer into fifteen boxes, placing them into a large, round platform; hopefully, this would be another portal that can smash through the Jammers.
His daughter, Althea, having helped him maintain their lonely section of the long-abandoned Pagos Base, felt that now may be the right time to know what in the world is she and her father doing, what are the documents' plans for, and why.
"Dad, is it true that all of this is for the Irisium Project?" she said curiously, while hacking the Jammers with the portal's small dial. "I saw the words 'Irisium' in the Old Peregrinian from your documents."
"Of course, Alli." calmly replied her father. "We are doing it for the country's greater good."
"Good?!" Althea's face paled in shock. "It's a superweapon that is absolutely banned under the Peregrinian Constitution of 3154! No wonder why the cops had been after us when we left Peregrinium!"
Dr. Roland remained calm, as he charged the portal's power system, managing to successfully concentrate while plugging in its wires and setting up its geothermal generators.
His daughter, Althea, having helped him maintain their lonely section of the long-abandoned Pagos Base, felt that now may be the right time to know what in the world is she and her father doing, what are the documents' plans for, and why.
"Dad, is it true that all of this is for the Irisium Project?" she said curiously, while hacking the Jammers with the portal's small dial. "I saw the words 'Irisium' in the Old Peregrinian from your documents."
"Of course, Alli." calmly replied her father. "We are doing it for the country's greater good."
"Good?!" Althea's face paled in shock. "It's a superweapon that is absolutely banned under the Peregrinian Constitution of 3154! No wonder why the cops had been after us when we left Peregrinium!"
Dr. Roland remained calm, as he charged the portal's power system, managing to successfully concentrate while plugging in its wires and setting up its geothermal generators.
Sunday, 27 July 2014
TOTA - Part 5 - Operation Polophylax
Deep in the dim streets, Detective Dwight Baker returns to his office, studying and discussing with his colleagues about evidence of the renegade Dr. Roland's whereabouts. They had just received a letter from a botanist who had sighted Roland at a nearby tenement complex, who quickly hid himself behind the door as soon as he knew that the botanist was watching and following him.
Inside, Roland rushed through the carpets, up three stairways, and into his home. His wife and daughter were preparing dinner for themselves. "Roland," said his wife, as she places a pot of bubbling carrot soup on the table, "why do you need to spend so much on your projects instead of helping us get out of the tenements?"
"They are necessary for our nation, madam."
"How?"
"You will have to find out yourself." he calmly replied, as he feasted on the steak and carrots as quickly as possible.
"What's the rush?" said his daughter.
"Not a matter."
After the meal, he cleaned his mouth, and rushed towards his room. His daughter watches him frantically open the shelves and cupboards, scurrying through clothing and knick-knacks, and placed several pieces of paper into his briefcase. She then enters, asking him:
"Dad, what's in those papers?"
"Business files."
"Can I help you retrieve them, Dad?"
"Then help me search for the documents with the National Seal on them."
He then placed a strange, blue, and round machine on the ground, and tapped on several black buttons.
"Plug the machine, Lisa."
Both of them, and Roland's wife, could hear poundings on the door.
"This is the police. We demand that Roland surrender to us, right now, or you will join Roland in custody."
Hearing this, Roland frantically shouted to his wife: "Stop them and help me, will you?!"
His wife instead opened the door, and led the cops towards his room. The room flashed with a blinding blue light. By the time both they, and Baker's crew, came into the room, Roland, his daughter, and the machine were gone.
"How did this Roland fellow manage to successfully hack through the jammer systems ... ?" murmured Baker, as he retrieved the few papers Roland and his daughter had left behind. He searched through the contents: "Pagos Military Base, Sector 2, Frigidum Territory."
On the next day, Mr. Baker and his colleagues had a meeting.
"Tomorrow," he said, presenting the papers, "we're boarding a Storm-Vessel to Frigidus. Any questions?"
One of his colleagues, who is Mr. Baker's assistant, raised his hand. "The Storm-Vessels were just built, but are not tested for resistance against the Tellurian Storm, which is much more vicious than any other blizzard in history. There is also the risk of sky-pirates swarming over the areas north of Frigidus, including Telluria. Also, the government has not authorized teleports within 600 miles of our borders, Mr. Baker, and the space transports are not available for investigative crews like us. How are we going to go all the way south to Frigidus through the Storm and the pirates as soon as possible?"
"We use another way: our Storm-Vessel flies to Kybos Island, and we will go island-hopping from there onwards." He typed his keyboard to show possible tunnels, passages, and portals into Frigidus and Pagos Base that are not under Tellurian, pirate, or Sonarian control. "Any one of these will become our destination. Commence Operation Polophylax!"
Aside from the longer timing, everything went to plan. That is, until they are at a point further away from Kybos Island, and nearer towards Frigidus, when they saw the black, wolfish sky-pirate skiffs hovering behind them. The crew readied themselves to fend off against the jetpack-flying pirates, who broke into the Vessel, demanding ransoms more quickly than Mr. Baker's assistant could even pull the rapid-o-lever. Nevertheless, only three out of Mr. Baker's crew managed to use the escape pods alive: Mr. Baker, his assistant Dr Edward, and Miss Rosalind.
There, Mr. Baker used a one-use-teleporter that was granted to him by the High Commissioner. But he did not use it to return to a base somewhere beyond the fringes of Peregrinium, but to instead teleport his party straightaway to the nearest military base to Pagos Base, past the Storm. In the process, the escape pod was destroyed, releasing a beacon that summoned Tellurian aircraft against the pirate skiffs and the hijacked Storm-Vessel.
They found themselves in a vast room, surrounded with still-functioning machinery whizzing, gurgling, and glowing all about, passing by and dodging robots eternally locked in mindlessly dangerous experiments. Unscathed, they afterwards walked out, navigating their way together towards whatever exit that is safe enough for them, and taking plenty of supplies with them.
While they traverse the passageways and chambers of the base, they collect evidence from the holograms and documents, hinting of supplying Peregrinum some kind of superweapon. This alerted the sentry guards, who furiously pursued and shot at Mr. Baker and his party, creating a lot of damage in the process.
They board into a robotic train, old and blackened with rust, with water occasionally splashing about the metallic sides around the heated tracks. As their train flushes out of the base, dashing its water to the walls and sides around it, and into the carved Frigidian landscape, they saw huge, imposing walls of ice gazing down cruelly at them. A gray sky loomed above, lashing howling winds that coursed the cliffs and drifted the gentle fall of snow.
The train goes up a waterfall of a track in a dark tunnel towards another clearing. There it is, Pagos Base. Its barb-wire fences have been worn away by ice, its imposing glass dome is half-buried, the rusted remains of one or two robots popping out of the snow here and there, and the lamps flicker about. But several lights have forced their way through the nearly-transparent snow, and through a certain door, indicating activity within the dome.
Mr. Baker and his crew then move on towards the dome, wanting to stop this threat of a possible superweapon from being realized.
Inside, Roland rushed through the carpets, up three stairways, and into his home. His wife and daughter were preparing dinner for themselves. "Roland," said his wife, as she places a pot of bubbling carrot soup on the table, "why do you need to spend so much on your projects instead of helping us get out of the tenements?"
"They are necessary for our nation, madam."
"How?"
"You will have to find out yourself." he calmly replied, as he feasted on the steak and carrots as quickly as possible.
"What's the rush?" said his daughter.
"Not a matter."
After the meal, he cleaned his mouth, and rushed towards his room. His daughter watches him frantically open the shelves and cupboards, scurrying through clothing and knick-knacks, and placed several pieces of paper into his briefcase. She then enters, asking him:
"Dad, what's in those papers?"
"Business files."
"Can I help you retrieve them, Dad?"
"Then help me search for the documents with the National Seal on them."
He then placed a strange, blue, and round machine on the ground, and tapped on several black buttons.
"Plug the machine, Lisa."
Both of them, and Roland's wife, could hear poundings on the door.
"This is the police. We demand that Roland surrender to us, right now, or you will join Roland in custody."
Hearing this, Roland frantically shouted to his wife: "Stop them and help me, will you?!"
His wife instead opened the door, and led the cops towards his room. The room flashed with a blinding blue light. By the time both they, and Baker's crew, came into the room, Roland, his daughter, and the machine were gone.
"How did this Roland fellow manage to successfully hack through the jammer systems ... ?" murmured Baker, as he retrieved the few papers Roland and his daughter had left behind. He searched through the contents: "Pagos Military Base, Sector 2, Frigidum Territory."
On the next day, Mr. Baker and his colleagues had a meeting.
"Tomorrow," he said, presenting the papers, "we're boarding a Storm-Vessel to Frigidus. Any questions?"
One of his colleagues, who is Mr. Baker's assistant, raised his hand. "The Storm-Vessels were just built, but are not tested for resistance against the Tellurian Storm, which is much more vicious than any other blizzard in history. There is also the risk of sky-pirates swarming over the areas north of Frigidus, including Telluria. Also, the government has not authorized teleports within 600 miles of our borders, Mr. Baker, and the space transports are not available for investigative crews like us. How are we going to go all the way south to Frigidus through the Storm and the pirates as soon as possible?"
"We use another way: our Storm-Vessel flies to Kybos Island, and we will go island-hopping from there onwards." He typed his keyboard to show possible tunnels, passages, and portals into Frigidus and Pagos Base that are not under Tellurian, pirate, or Sonarian control. "Any one of these will become our destination. Commence Operation Polophylax!"
Aside from the longer timing, everything went to plan. That is, until they are at a point further away from Kybos Island, and nearer towards Frigidus, when they saw the black, wolfish sky-pirate skiffs hovering behind them. The crew readied themselves to fend off against the jetpack-flying pirates, who broke into the Vessel, demanding ransoms more quickly than Mr. Baker's assistant could even pull the rapid-o-lever. Nevertheless, only three out of Mr. Baker's crew managed to use the escape pods alive: Mr. Baker, his assistant Dr Edward, and Miss Rosalind.
There, Mr. Baker used a one-use-teleporter that was granted to him by the High Commissioner. But he did not use it to return to a base somewhere beyond the fringes of Peregrinium, but to instead teleport his party straightaway to the nearest military base to Pagos Base, past the Storm. In the process, the escape pod was destroyed, releasing a beacon that summoned Tellurian aircraft against the pirate skiffs and the hijacked Storm-Vessel.
They found themselves in a vast room, surrounded with still-functioning machinery whizzing, gurgling, and glowing all about, passing by and dodging robots eternally locked in mindlessly dangerous experiments. Unscathed, they afterwards walked out, navigating their way together towards whatever exit that is safe enough for them, and taking plenty of supplies with them.
While they traverse the passageways and chambers of the base, they collect evidence from the holograms and documents, hinting of supplying Peregrinum some kind of superweapon. This alerted the sentry guards, who furiously pursued and shot at Mr. Baker and his party, creating a lot of damage in the process.
They board into a robotic train, old and blackened with rust, with water occasionally splashing about the metallic sides around the heated tracks. As their train flushes out of the base, dashing its water to the walls and sides around it, and into the carved Frigidian landscape, they saw huge, imposing walls of ice gazing down cruelly at them. A gray sky loomed above, lashing howling winds that coursed the cliffs and drifted the gentle fall of snow.
The train goes up a waterfall of a track in a dark tunnel towards another clearing. There it is, Pagos Base. Its barb-wire fences have been worn away by ice, its imposing glass dome is half-buried, the rusted remains of one or two robots popping out of the snow here and there, and the lamps flicker about. But several lights have forced their way through the nearly-transparent snow, and through a certain door, indicating activity within the dome.
Mr. Baker and his crew then move on towards the dome, wanting to stop this threat of a possible superweapon from being realized.
Saturday, 26 July 2014
TOTA - Intermission 1 - Why Not Divulge?
Dear Dad,
Your stories are quite well-written, but most of them are about subverting clichés, and of authors, writers, fanbases, readers, and their dealings with each other. There's nothing wrong with twisting and re-inventing clichés, but why don't you write something more "ordinary"? You should write what you enjoy writing about, rather than waste a lot of time and effort "exterminating" clichés - it's an impossible struggle to escape the inescapable. In fact, if you continue to write the same sort of things again and again, you end up creating new clichés!
Don't you revile clichés, Dad? I know that your works will be "different", but why not make them variable? In that way, you can freshen up some literary genres, and gain more readers to inspire!
Or, it's best to just write what's comfortable for you, because that's what good authors (like you) do.
Yours truly, with love,
Felicia Priamus.
Your stories are quite well-written, but most of them are about subverting clichés, and of authors, writers, fanbases, readers, and their dealings with each other. There's nothing wrong with twisting and re-inventing clichés, but why don't you write something more "ordinary"? You should write what you enjoy writing about, rather than waste a lot of time and effort "exterminating" clichés - it's an impossible struggle to escape the inescapable. In fact, if you continue to write the same sort of things again and again, you end up creating new clichés!
Don't you revile clichés, Dad? I know that your works will be "different", but why not make them variable? In that way, you can freshen up some literary genres, and gain more readers to inspire!
Or, it's best to just write what's comfortable for you, because that's what good authors (like you) do.
Yours truly, with love,
Felicia Priamus.
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