Children of the Matrix (Beginning)

[ctg]

This is the beginning of fourth version of my book, and I was wondering if you fellow writers could find out what is wrong with it, because to me it doesn't seem to be as engaging as other stuff I have written.

PROLOGUE

“Syracuse is ready to see you,” a secretary wearing a black long dress said, and gestured Doctor Guy Baker to step behind the oak double-doors that ominously stood behind her desk. Doctor Baker looked like an ordinary man going to a business-meeting, but he was far from ordinary, as his title of the chief scientist told otherwise. Neither was he an ordinary scientist, but something far more sinister, some would probably have thought his business was malign.

“Thanks,” Baker replied. He stood up, checked his tie for the last time, while he thought about how he was going to present the case to his scary and mysterious employer. ‘You just be cool about the accident, and don’t talk about the boy. Yes, as far as he needs to know, the boy is as dead as the old fellow.’

Cold sweat poured down on his back as he stepped through the doors to the lavishly furnished office. The whole atmosphere made Baker to remember times that he had spent on his private school principle office explaining his mishaps. Even the Greek statues and the pottery on the pedestals made it look all so same.

‘Oh s**t’, he thought as he saw the company that was standing next to the Syracuse desk. Although the man competed on the blackness with the secretary, his skull like long face made Baker feel as if the Death itself was present in the room. ‘This is definitely not good. I bet he all ready knows.’

Baker quickly touched his right jacket pocket to check that a small hold-out pistol was still there, as his gaze wandered around room searching for the escape routes. There was none, unless he wanted to try to jump from the third floor to a certain death. Then again, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Baker gulped loudly as he stopped next to the chair at the front of the Syracuse desk. Syracuse was a shipping merchant, an old school Greek aristocrat and his business, as far as Baker knew, went all the way back to the days when the Aristotle had been alive. He even looked like Aristotle itself, but instead of hiding his rough figure in toga, his tailored silk-suit just enhanced his majestic presence. It made Baker to feel as if the man itself was a King, and the man next on his right was his executioner. However, even if he was, it didn’t explain his interest on the gene-manipulation, but then again the time was year 1980, and as far as Baker knew, he and his team was only one conduction research in that field, by using methods that had to come from future.

“Sit and explain yourself,” Syracuse demanded. His grasping voice made Baker to shiver and think how he could escape from the situation that he was in, but there was no other choice. He had to do it.

“I rather stand, if you don’t mind…”

“Suit yourself, but please do enlighten me on what happened in the hospital.”

Baker took off his glasses to swipe steam off from them, as he started to tell his story. “Sir…” he stopped for a moment to think if sir was good enough. “ Everything went according the plan, until there was a accident that made the CORE device act weirdly. Our chief engineer believes that the device itself caused it…” He placed his glasses back on his nose, took out a small white metal case from his left pocket, and carefully placed it on the table. “Sir that is all the data that we managed to salvage from the magnetic tapes after the central computers crashed. The chief engineer said that a battery backup could have solved that problem…” He watched Syracuse picking up the case and sliding it open to reveal a flat-screen LCD display that was unheard off in the 1980’s England. “As you can see the data clearly shows the injection and beginning of the transaction, but there is no data that shows the agent itself is working…”

Baker stopped for a couple seconds to think what he was going to say next, but the pause was enough Syracuse. He slammed his hand on the desk on such a force that Guy felt his heart jumping on his throat, as Syracuse spat out. “LIES…” He jerked his head towards the Baker, and said in Greek. “Niko, skotose ton!” Then he raised from his chair, flipped open a hidden panel on his desk and shouted. “WHERE’S THE BOY?”

Baker panicked as he heard bolts slamming on behind him. He stared Niko, who was approaching him like a knife fighter. His legs danced on a floor like a cat approaching a prey, and his claw was a long blade that gleamed on his hand. Baker hand went into his pocket, but he was already too late. Niko had already moved behind him, and placed his blade on Baker’s throat and hissed in his ear, “Try it, and you’ll be dead as dead as Miss Johnson. Where’s the boy?”

‘Shit’ Baker thought as he froze his movements. ‘Shit, ****, **** …’ He felt Niko switching blades on his throat, and then taking out the pistol from his pocket.

“You murdering conspirator,” Syracuse growled from behind the desk.

“If you kill me, you will never find the boy,” Baker heard his mouth saying at the same time as the plan played in his head. “He is well hidden and you never…”

“Niko, skistou to lemo,” Syracuse sighed and sat down.

Guy felt the blade cutting his throat, and as he felt his life escaping, he thought the boy. He would be safe. Nobody knew who he was, and where he was. The dead-man switch would trigger certain death to his crew and then Syracuse would never have his precious boy.

[0]

LONDON 2006, Tom Delay was sitting in the tube, cracking a Su-Doku puzzle in his head. For him, the puzzles were something that could take his always occupied mind away, and let his subconscious mind to play. Although mister Delay looked like an ordinary city boy, he was far from being one of them, as his business was the identity theft, and the suit was just a costume in role that he had assumed. Nevertheless, there was a one thing making him extraordinary, and it was the dreams that he had time to time, dreams that showed him the future. However, the day that he thought to be an ordinary spring day, was going to be the day when his life was going to change … forever.

There were times when Tom noticed that something was going on. He just quite did not understand what it meant, and most of the time he was just too busy to focus his mind on it.

This time Tom watched his image from the mirror that the dark metro tunnel created on the carriage windows. He had felt something, almost like a nudge hitting his subconscious mind and he saw his image twisting, and next thing that he understood was that he was sitting in an empty dust-filled carriage, staring at pair of skeletons on opposite seats. As soon as the image had appeared, it disappeared.

‘What the hell,’ Tom thought. ‘Where did that come from? Was there something in the coffee?’ He looked at empty crushed cup he had chucked on the floor. ‘I swear to god that he will pay for it. He will be like others and he’ll have a credit card account or two…’ but it didn’t feel like as he was stoned, but the feeling was more sort of sensation that he had after experiencing an deja-vu. Difference was that this it felt so much more powerful, raw … and so realistic.

Tom looked other people down at the carriage, and thought ‘Did they see what I did see’ but it was obvious that they had not experienced anything like that in their mundane lives. Even seeing the dreams that he had seen, seem to be so rare, if not unique.

“Next station, Holland Park…” the carriage speakers blared.

‘Ah my stop,’ Tom thought as he folded newspaper under his arm, and at that point another nudge in his mind, this time it was far more powerful then the previous one.

Tom saw himself being in a cart moving towards a desolated West End of the London, and towards the tallest and most weirdest looking tower, that occupied most of the land that at one point had belonged to the Central Government, and all the banking institutions. It was Tom playfield, but it looked so barren and so alien.

When Tom mind returned, he heard announcement from the speakers, “Next Station, Shepherds Bush. Mind the cap,” He shook his head and stood up, feeling very strange. ‘There is something going on, I better get out, before I find myself in the last station.’
As the train stopped, Tom rushed out, sat on the first bench, and took a deep breath. The images twisted in his mind, and the sensation felt like the magic mushrooms that he once had tried with his partner. Tom grasped the chair with his, leaned back as he swallowed the dusty air and lost his sense of time. The images were just too overpowering, and it took sometime before he were able clear his mind.

When Tom woke up from the nightmarish daydream, he realised that there had been several trains that had stopped and moved on. He looked down the platform and he saw a transport official, on her high visibility vests, looking at him and talking to her radio.
Tom looked at the other direction, and saw a boxed CCTV camera looking at him. ‘I cannot stay here,’ he thought as he forced himself up and walk towards the exit. ‘Not now, I cannot be getting in hospital with three passports in my pocket.’

He smiled to the transport worker and said, “Tummy cramp. I had to sit down for a minute. It’s ok now.” Then he carried away acting as he was in hurry to find a toilet, and as he heard woman behind her cracking in her radio, “Bad kebab…” he felt fantastic. Woman had bought his lies.

‘Did I just saw a future?’ Tom thought as he jogged up the stairs to the first landing, and took the escalator up to the top. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the wind blew on his face, and the next thing that he understood was the nudge on his feet, he got at the end of the escalators.

“I must be losing some time,” he muttered to himself, as he checked the time from his mobile. “I swear to god that it was much earlier, when I left the office…” He looked up and saw a police officer near the gates watching him, and talking to his radio. Tom quickly slapped his Oyster card on the reader, and moved out from the station to rainy London. He took a free newspaper from a fellow at the exit to shield himself, and started to jog towards the Holland Park. There was no point of hailing the black cap on the rush hour London, because his home was just ten minutes away, and it could take much longer to get a cap.

When Tom moved into a subway tunnel on boarder of Shepherds Bush and Holland Park, he felt a nudge in his mind, this time it wasn’t just one, but a whole series of them. He felt a gust of wind blowing down the tunnel, and starting to swirl around him. The wind picked up everything around him, but left him alone to stand in the eye of the vortex.
Behind the flying rubbish and sudden arches of lightning, he saw the tunnel starting to age, and things moving as if the time itself was on fast forward. People suddenly appeared, moved rabidly through the tunnel, but when they moved through him, it shook him to the core, as they didn’t even notice that he was there.

Suddenly it was night, as the time moved forward with ever-increasing pace, and a few minutes' later the sun rose up. Tom took out his mobile and saw that the time was passing normally in it. Looking up, days whistled by and became months as the seasons started to change. As suddenly the nature had bloomed at the other end of the tunnel, and the bushes in alleyway started to change colours, finally shedding their leaves when the autumn storms appeared; then he realised the winter with its grey clouds had settled in. To Tom the time at the outside seemed to move forward faster, ever faster…

Tom felt his motion sickness coming as he watched the sun and the moon dancing at the end of the tunnel. He felt his legs giving way. In the end he did not care what was happening, he just wanted to get back to his bed, and hide under the thick cover of his duvet. The blackness filled his mind and he collapsed.

[1]

[Zubi-Ondo]

Interesting enough Ctg. It definitely pulls you in. One thing I couldn't help but notice in the "LONDON 2006" paragraph almost immediately, I suspect it wasn't your intention to name your character after an infamous American politician: Tom DeLay campaign finance investigation - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. If you were aware, and didn't mind, or it was somehow on purpose, I apologize. Anyway, I see how this piece is related to the one you posted awhile back, and it's an interesting story idea. (I like it). One more question - Did you intend the dialogue: ‘Did I just saw a future?’ (?) Perhaps you meant ‘Did I just see a future?’ (?) That was the only other thing I noticed right off. Good stuff.

- Z.

[ctg]

No Zubi, I didn't know about the politician before I had started to write at around November 2005, when I did the first version on this. Mister Delay name is going to change to old master 'Time Delay' at some point in the future novels. Although I am contemplating on scrapping this book and write another one. However Mister Delay has nothing to do with the Tom DeLay (the corrupt politician).

[ctg]

The answer to second question is that I'm not sure what is the correct intention. You see a vision, then you think about, so what do you say? "Did I see the future", or "Did I just saw the future?" What is the correct way of saying it? As I am not a native speaker, I cannot know for sure, so please tell me.

[chrispenycate]

Originally Posted by ctg

This is the beginning of fourth version of my book, and I was wondering if you fellow writers could find out what is wrong with it, because to me it doesn't seem to be as engaging as other stuff I have written.

PROLOGUE

“Syracuse is ready to see you,” a secretary wearing a black long dress said, and gestured Doctor Guy Baker to step behind the oak double-doors that ominously

"stood ominously" I think, unless it was the position of the door that was the omen, in which case a comma after "ominously"

stood behind her desk. Doctor Baker looked like an ordinary man going to a business-meeting, but he was far from ordinary, as his title of the chief scientist told otherwise.

not "the" in front of chief scientist, unless you mean to capitalise it, and I don't think you need the "otherwise"

Neither was he an ordinary scientist, but something far more sinister, some would probably have thought his business was malign.

“Thanks,” Baker replied. He stood up,

probably an "and" in here instead of the comma

checked his tie for the last time, while he thought about how he was going to present the case to his scary and mysterious employer. ‘You just be cool about the accident, and don’t talk about the boy. Yes, as far as he needs to know, the boy is as dead as the old fellow.’

Cold sweat poured down on his back as he stepped through the doors to the lavishly furnished office. The whole atmosphere made Baker to

no "to"

remember times that he had spent on

probably "in

his private school principle

probably "principal's", though I could be wrong and it be "his high school's principle"

office explaining his mishaps. Even the Greek statues and the pottery on the pedestals made it look all so

much the?

same.

‘Oh s**t’, he thought

comma

as he saw the company that was standing next to the Syracuse desk. Although the man competed on

competed in blackness?

the blackness with the secretary, his skull

hyphen, and a comma after "skull-like"

like long face made Baker feel as if the

without the "the"?

Death itself was present in the room. ‘This is definitely not good. I bet he all ready

already

knows.’

Baker quickly touched his right jacket pocket to check that a small hold-out pistol was still there, as his gaze wandered around room searching for the escape routes. There was none, unless he wanted to try to jump from the third floor to a certain death. Then again, maybe it

possibly "that" instead of "it"? wasn’t such a bad idea.

Baker gulped loudly as he stopped next to the chair at the

"in front" rather than "at the front"?

front of the Syracuse desk. Syracuse was a shipping merchant, an old school Greek aristocrat and his business, as far as Baker knew, went all the way back to the days when the Aristotle had been alive. He even looked like Aristotle itself, but instead of hiding his rough figure in toga, his tailored silk-suit just enhanced his majestic presence. It made Baker to feel as if the man itself

himself?

was a King, and the man next on his right was his executioner. However, even if he was, it didn’t explain his interest on the gene-manipulation, but then again the time was year 1980, and as far as Baker knew, he and his team was

were the only (or were the one) conducting

only one conduction research in that field, by using methods that had to come from

the

future.

“Sit and explain yourself,” Syracuse demanded. His grasping voice made Baker to shiver and think how he could escape from the situation that he was in, but there was no other choice. He had to do it.

“I rather stand, if you don’t mind…”

“Suit yourself, but please do enlighten me on what happened in the hospital.”

Baker took off his glasses to swipe steam off from them, as he started to tell his story. “Sir…” he stopped for a moment to think if sir was good enough. “ Everything went according the plan,

no comma

until there was a accident that made the CORE device act weirdly. Our chief engineer believes that the device itself caused it…” He placed his glasses back on his nose, took out a small white metal case from his left pocket, and carefully placed it on the table. “Sir that is all the data that we managed to salvage from the magnetic tapes after the central computers crashed. The chief engineer said that a battery backup could have solved that problem…” He watched Syracuse picking up the case and sliding it open to reveal a flat-screen LCD display that was unheard off in the

no "the"?

1980’s England. “As you can see the data clearly shows the injection and beginning of the transaction, but there is no data that shows the agent itself is working…”

Baker stopped for a couple seconds to think what he was going to say next, but the pause was enough Syracuse. He slammed his hand on the desk on

with?

such a force that Guy felt his heart jumping on his throat, as Syracuse spat out. “LIES…” He jerked his head towards the Baker, and said in Greek. “Niko, skotose ton!” Then he raised from his chair, flipped open a hidden panel on his desk and shouted. “WHERE’S THE BOY?”

Baker panicked as he heard bolts slamming on behind him. He stared

at

Niko, who was approaching him like a knife fighter. His legs danced on a floor like a cat approaching a

no "a"?

prey, and his claw was a long blade that gleamed on

in?

his hand. Baker

Baker's

hand went into his pocket, but he was already too late. Niko had already moved behind him, and placed his blade on Baker’s throat and hissed in his ear, “Try it, and you’ll be dead as dead as Miss Johnson. Where’s the boy?”

‘Shit’ Baker thought as he froze his movements. ‘Shit, ****, **** …’ He felt Niko switching blades on his throat, and then taking out the pistol from his pocket.

“You murdering conspirator,” Syracuse growled from behind the desk.

“If you kill me, you will never find the boy,” Baker heard his mouth saying at the same time as the plan played in his head. “He is well hidden and you never…”

“Niko, skistou to lemo,” Syracuse sighed and sat down.

Guy felt the blade cutting his throat, and as he felt his life escaping, he thought the boy. He would be safe. Nobody knew who he was, and where he was. The dead-man switch would trigger certain death to his crew and then Syracuse would never have his precious boy.

[0]

LONDON 2006, Tom Delay was sitting in the tube, cracking a Su-Doku puzzle in his head. For him, the puzzles were something that could take his always occupied mind away, and let his subconscious mind to

no "to"

play. Although mister Delay looked like an ordinary city boy, he was far from being one of them, as his business was the

no "the"?

identity theft, and the suit was just a costume in role that he had assumed. Nevertheless, there was a

no "a"

one thing making him extraordinary, and it was the dreams that he had

from

time to time, dreams that showed him the future. However, the day that he thought to be an ordinary spring day, was going to be the day when his life was going to change … forever.

I'd like to get rid of the repetition of "day"

There were times when Tom noticed that something was going on. He just quite

perhaps the "quite" after "not"?

did not understand what it meant, and most of the time he was just too busy to focus his mind on it.

This time Tom watched his image from

perhaps "in" rather than "from"?

the mirror that the dark metro tunnel created on the carriage windows. He had felt something, almost like a nudge hitting his subconscious mind and he saw his image twisting, and next thing that he understood was that he was sitting in an empty

comma

dust-filled carriage, staring at pair of skeletons on opposite seats. As soon as the image had appeared, it disappeared.

‘What the hell,’ Tom thought. ‘Where did that come from? Was there something in the coffee?’ He looked at empty crushed cup he had chucked on the floor. ‘I swear to god that he will pay for it. He will be like others and he’ll have a credit card account or two…’ but it didn’t feel like as he was stoned, but

without the "but", and a semicolon?

the feeling was more sort of sensation that he had after experiencing an deja-vu.

The?

Difference was that this it felt so much more powerful, raw … and so realistic.

Tom looked other people down at the carriage, and thought ‘Did they see what I did see’ but it was obvious that they had not experienced anything like that in their mundane lives. Even seeing the dreams that he had seen, seem

seemed

to be so rare, if not unique.

“Next station, Holland Park…” the carriage speakers blared.

‘Ah my stop,’ Tom thought as he folded newspaper under his arm, and at that point another nudge in his mind,

semicolon

this time it was far more powerful then the previous one.

Tom saw himself being in a cart moving towards a desolated

I'm not sure "desolate" cane be used as a verb. Still, it would make a perfectly good adjective (a desolate West end)

West End of the London, and towards the tallest and most

no "most"

weirdest looking tower, that occupied most of the land that at one point had belonged to the Central Government, and all the banking institutions. It was Tom

Tom's

playfield, but it looked so barren and so alien.

When Tom mind returned, he heard announcement from the speakers, “Next Station, Shepherds Bush. Mind the cap,

was the incomprehensibility of the "mind the gap" deliberate? I've always found it was the station names they scrambled, just to amuse us, you understand

” He shook his head and stood up, feeling very strange. ‘There is something going on, I better get out, before I find myself in the last station.’
As the train stopped, Tom rushed out, sat on the first bench, and took a deep breath. The images twisted in his mind, and the sensation felt like the magic mushrooms that he once had tried with his partner. Tom grasped the chair with his

with his what?

, leaned back as he swallowed the dusty air and lost his sense of time. The images were just too overpowering, and it took sometime

some time

before he were

was

able clear his mind.

When Tom woke up from the nightmarish daydream, he realised that there had been several trains that had stopped and moved on. He looked down the platform and he saw a transport official, on

in; and is it "vests" plural?

her high visibility vests, looking at him and talking to her radio.
Tom looked at

in

the other direction, and saw a boxed CCTV camera looking at him. ‘I cannot stay here,’ he thought as he forced himself up and walk towards the exit. ‘Not now, I cannot be getting in hospital with three passports in my pocket.’

He smiled to the transport worker and said, “Tummy cramp. I had to sit down for a minute. It’s ok now.” Then he carried away

comma

acting as

if

he was in hurry to find a toilet, and as he heard woman behind her

no her? (or have I misunderstood something

cracking in her radio, “Bad kebab…” he felt fantastic. Woman had bought his lies.

‘Did I just saw

see

a future?’ Tom thought as he jogged up the stairs to the first landing, and took the escalator up to the top. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the wind blew on his face, and the next thing that he understood was the nudge on his feet, he got

he had got to?

at the end of the escalators.

“I must be losing some time,” he muttered to himself, as he checked the time from his mobile. “I swear to god that it was much earlier, when I left the office…” He looked up and saw a police officer near the gates watching him, and talking to his radio. Tom quickly slapped his Oyster card on the reader, and moved out from the station to rainy London. He took a free newspaper from a fellow at the exit to shield himself, and started to jog towards the

no the

Holland Park. There was no point of hailing the black cap on the

"in" rather than "on the"

rush hour London, because his home was just ten minutes away, and it could take much longer to get a cap.

why "cap" rather than "cab"? is this the same one he's supposed to be minding?

When Tom moved into a subway tunnel on boarder

the border

of Shepherds Bush and Holland Park, he felt a nudge in his mind, this time it wasn’t just one, but a whole series of them. He felt a gust of wind blowing down the tunnel, and starting to swirl around him. The wind picked up everything around him, but left him alone to stand in the eye of the vortex.
Behind the flying rubbish and sudden arches of lightning, he saw the tunnel starting to age, and things moving as if the

no "the"

time itself was on fast forward. People suddenly appeared, moved rabidly

probably "rapidly"

through the tunnel, but when they moved through him, it shook him to the core, as they didn’t even notice that he was there.

Suddenly it was night, as the time moved forward with

at an

ever-increasing pace, and a few minutes'

no apostrophe

later the sun rose up

no "up"

. Tom took out his mobile and saw that the time was passing normally in it. Looking up, days whistled by and became months as the seasons started to change. As suddenly the nature had bloomed at the other end of the tunnel, and the bushes in alleyway started to change colours, finally shedding their leaves when the autumn storms appeared; then he realised the

"that" instead of "the"?

winter with its grey clouds had settled in. To Tom the time at the outside seemed to move forward faster, ever faster…

Tom felt his motion sickness coming as he watched the sun and the moon dancing at the end of the tunnel. He felt his legs giving way. In the end he did not care what was happening, he just wanted to get back to his bed, and hide under the thick cover of his duvet. The blackness filled his mind and he collapsed.

Unless, of course, you are deliberately straining the language, in which case my attempting to squeeze it into a conventional format are just annoying…

[ctg]

Thank you very much Chris, I hope my dyslexia with p's and b's didn't annoy you too much.

PROLOGUE

“Syracuse is ready to see you,” a secretary wearing a black long dress said, and gestured Doctor Guy Baker to step behind the oak double-doors that stood ominously behind her desk. Doctor Baker looked like an ordinary man going to a business-meeting, but he was far from ordinary, as his title of chief scientist told. Neither was he an ordinary scientist, but something far more sinister, some would probably have thought his business was malign.
“Thanks,” Baker replied. He stood up and checked his tie for the last time, while he thought about how he was going to present the case to his scary and mysterious employer. ‘You just be cool about the accident, and don’t talk about the boy. Yes, as far as he needs to know, the boy is as dead as the old fellow.’
Cold sweat poured down on his back as he stepped through the doors to the lavishly furnished office. The whole atmospheres made Baker remember times that, he had spent on his private school principal’s office explaining his mishaps. Even the Greek statues and the pottery on the pedestals made it look all so much the same.
‘Oh ****’, he thought, as he saw the company that was standing next to the Syracuse desk. Although the man competed in the blackness with the secretary, his skull-like, long face made Baker feel as if the Death itself was present in the room. ‘This is definitely not good. I bet he already knows.’
Baker quickly touched his right jacket pocket to check that a small hold-out pistol was still there, as his gaze wandered around room searching for the escape routes. There was none, unless he wanted to try to jump from the third floor to a certain death. Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.
Baker gulped loudly as he stopped next to the chair in the front of the Syracuse desk. Syracuse was a shipping merchant, an old school Greek aristocrat and his business, as far as Baker knew, went all the way back to the days when the Aristotle had been alive. He even looked like Aristotle itself, but instead of hiding his rough figure in toga, his tailored silk-suit just enhanced his majestic presence. It made Baker to feel as if the man himself was a King, and the man next on his right was his executioner. However, even if he was, it didn’t explain his interest on the gene-manipulation, but then again the time was year 1980, and as far as Baker knew, he and his team were the only one conducting research in that field, by using methods that had to come from the future.
“Sit and explain yourself,” Syracuse demanded. His grasping voice made Baker to shiver and think how he could escape from the situation that he was in, but there was no other choice. He had to do it.
“I rather stand, if you don’t mind…”
“Suit yourself, but please do enlighten me on what happened in the hospital.”
Baker took off his glasses to swipe steam off from them, as he started to tell his story. “Sir…” he stopped for a moment to think if sir was good enough. “ Everything went according the plan until there was a accident that made the CORE device act weirdly. Our chief engineer believes that the device itself caused it…” He placed his glasses back on his nose, took out a small white metal case from his left pocket, and carefully placed it on the table. “Sir that is all the data that we managed to salvage from the magnetic tapes after the central computers crashed. The chief engineer said that a battery backup could have solved that problem…” He watched Syracuse picking up the case and sliding it open to reveal a flat-screen LCD display that was unheard off in 1980’s England. “As you can see the data clearly shows the injection and beginning of the transaction, but there is no data that shows the agent itself is working…”
Baker stopped for a couple seconds to think what he was going to say next, but the pause was enough Syracuse. He slammed his hand on the desk with such a force that Guy felt his heart jumping on his throat, as Syracuse spat out. “LIES…” He jerked his head towards the Baker, and said in Greek. “Niko, skotose ton!” Then he raised from his chair, flipped open a hidden panel on his desk and shouted. “WHERE’S THE BOY?”
Baker panicked as he heard bolts slamming on behind him. He stared at Niko, who was approaching him like a knife fighter. His legs danced on a floor like a cat approaching prey, and his claw was a long blade that gleamed in his hand. Baker’s hand went into his pocket, but he was already too late. Niko had already moved behind him, and placed his blade on Baker’s throat and hissed in his ear, “Try it, and you’ll be dead as dead as Miss Johnson. Where’s the boy?”
‘Shit’ Baker thought as he froze his movements. ‘Shit, ****, **** …’ He felt Niko switching blades on his throat, and then taking out the pistol from his pocket.
“You murdering conspirator,” Syracuse growled from behind the desk.
“If you kill me, you will never find the boy,” Baker heard his mouth saying at the same time as the plan played in his head. “He is well hidden and you never…”
“Niko, skistou to lemo,” Syracuse sighed and sat down.
Guy felt the blade cutting his throat, and as he felt his life escaping, he thought the boy. He would be safe. Nobody knew who he was, and where he was. The dead-man switch would trigger certain death to his crew and then Syracuse would never have his precious boy.

[0]

LONDON 2006, Tom Delay was sitting in the tube, cracking a Su-Doku puzzle in his head. For him, the puzzles were something that could take his always occupied mind away, and let his subconscious mind play. Although mister Delay looked like an ordinary city boy, he was far from being one of them, as his business was identity theft, and the suit was just a costume in role that he had assumed. Nevertheless, there was a one thing making him extraordinary, and it was the dreams that he had from time to time, dreams that showed him the future. However, he didn’t even realise today he was going to be the day when his life was going to change … forever.
There were times when Tom noticed that something was going on. He just did not quite understand what it meant, and most of the time he was just too busy to focus his mind on it.
This time Tom watched his image in the mirror that the dark metro tunnel created on the carriage windows. He had felt something, almost like a nudge hitting his subconscious mind and he saw his image twisting, and next thing that he understood was that he was sitting in an empty, dust-filled carriage, staring at pair of skeletons on opposite seats. As soon as the image had appeared, it disappeared.
‘What the hell,’ Tom thought. ‘Where did that come from? Was there something in the coffee?’ He looked at empty crushed cup he had chucked on the floor. ‘I swear to god that he will pay for it. He will be like others and he’ll have a credit card account or two…’ but it didn’t feel like as he was stoned; the feeling was more sort of sensation that he had after experiencing an deja-vu. Difference was that this it felt so much more powerful, raw … and so realistic.
Tom looked other people down at the carriage, and thought ‘Did they see what I did see’ but it was obvious that they had not experienced anything like that in their mundane lives. Even seeing the dreams that he had seen, seemed to be so rare, if not unique.
“Next station, Holland Park…” the carriage speakers blared.
‘Ah my stop,’ Tom thought as he folded newspaper under his arm, and at that point another nudge in his mind; this time it was far more powerful then the previous one.
Tom saw himself being in a cart moving towards a desolate West End of the London, and towards the tallest and weirdest looking tower, that occupied most of the land that at one point had belonged to the Central Government, and all the banking institutions. It was Tom’s playfield, but it looked so barren and so alien.
When Tom mind returned, he heard announcement from the speakers, “Next station, Shepherds Bush. Mind the gap,” He shook his head and stood up, feeling very strange. ‘There is something going on, I better get out, before I find myself in the last station.’
As the train stopped, Tom rushed out, sat on the first bench, and took a deep breath. The images twisted in his mind, and the sensation felt like the magic mushrooms that he once had tried with his partner. Tom grasped the chair with his fingers, leaned back as he swallowed the dusty air and lost his sense of time. The images were just too overpowering, and it took some time before he was able clear his mind.
When Tom woke up from the nightmarish daydream, he realised that there had been several trains that had stopped and moved on. He looked down the platform and he saw a transport official, on her high visibility vest, looking at him and talking to her radio.
Tom looked in the other direction, and saw a boxed CCTV camera looking at him. ‘I cannot stay here,’ he thought as he forced himself up and walk towards the exit. ‘Not now, I cannot be getting in hospital with three passports in my pocket.’
He smiled to the transport worker and said, “Tummy cramp. I had to sit down for a minute. It’s ok now.” Then he carried away, acting as if he was in hurry to find a toilet, and as he heard woman behind him cracking in her radio, “Bad kebab…” he felt fantastic. Woman had bought his lies.
‘Did I just see a future?’ Tom thought as he jogged up the stairs to the first landing, and took the escalator up to the top. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the wind blew on his face, and the next thing that he understood was the nudge on his feet, he had at the end of the escalators.
“I must be losing some time,” he muttered to himself, as he checked the time from his mobile. “I swear to god that it was much earlier, when I left the office…” He looked up and saw a police officer near the gates watching him, and talking to his radio. Tom quickly slapped his Oyster card on the reader, and moved out from the station to rainy London. He took a free newspaper from a fellow at the exit to shield himself, and started to jog towards Holland Park. There was no point of hailing the black cab on the rush hour London, because his home was just ten minutes away, and it could take much longer to get a cap.
When Tom moved into a subway tunnel on border of Shepherds Bush and Holland Park, he felt a nudge in his mind, this time it wasn’t just one, but a whole series of them. He felt a gust of wind blowing down the tunnel, and starting to swirl around him. The wind picked up everything around him, but left him alone to stand in the eye of the vortex.
Behind the flying rubbish and sudden arches of lightning, he saw the tunnel starting to age, and things moving as if time itself was on fast forward. People suddenly appeared, moved rapidly through the tunnel, but when they moved through him, it shook him to the core, as they didn’t even notice that he was there.
Suddenly it was night, as the time moved forward with an ever-increasing pace, and a few minutes later the sun rose. Tom took out his mobile and saw that the time was passing normally in it. Looking up, days whistled by and became months as the seasons started to change. As suddenly the nature had bloomed at the other end of the tunnel, and the bushes in alleyway started to change colours, finally shedding their leaves when the autumn storms appeared; then he realised winter with its grey clouds had settled in. To Tom the time at the outside seemed to move forward faster, ever faster…
Tom felt his motion sickness coming as he watched the sun and the moon dancing at the end of the tunnel. He felt his legs giving way. In the end he did not care what was happening, he just wanted to get back to his bed, and hide under the thick cover of his duvet. The blackness filled his mind and he collapsed.

[1]

[Urlik]

a secretary wearing a black long dress said

would read better as;
a long, black dress

but something far more sinister, some would probably have thought his business was malign.

would read better as;
but something far more sinister. Some would probably have thought his business was malign.
breaking it into two sentences adds more of a dramatic pause after sinister.

to his scary and mysterious employer.

would read better as;
to his mysterious yet intimidating employer.

searching for the escape routes. There was none,

should be;
searching for the escape routes. There were none,

chair in the front of the Syracuse desk.

should be;
chair in the front of Syracuse's desk.
or
chair in the front of Syracuse' desk.
depending on how you prefer pronouncing it. either is grammatically correct

[ctg]

Thank you Urlik,

PROLOGUE

“Syracuse is ready to see you,” a secretary wearing a long, black dress said, and gestured Doctor Guy Baker to step behind the oak double-doors that stood ominously behind her desk. Doctor Baker looked like an ordinary man going to a business-meeting, but he was far from ordinary, as his title of chief scientist told. Neither was he an ordinary scientist, but something far more sinister. Some would probably have thought his business was malign.
“Thanks,” Baker replied. He stood up and checked his tie for the last time, while he thought about how he was going to present the case to his mysterious yet intimidating employer. ‘You just be cool about the accident, and don’t talk about the boy. Yes, as far as he needs to know, the boy is as dead as the old fellow.’
Cold sweat poured down on his back as he stepped through the doors to the lavishly furnished office. The whole atmospheres made Baker remember times that, he had spent on his private school principal’s office explaining his mishaps. Even the Greek statues and the pottery on the pedestals made it look all so much the same.
‘Oh ****’, he thought, as he saw the company that was standing next to the Syracuse desk. Although the man competed in the blackness with the secretary, his skull-like, long face made Baker feel as if the Death itself was present in the room. ‘This is definitely not good. I bet he already knows.’
Baker quickly touched his right jacket pocket to check that a small hold-out pistol was still there, as his gaze wandered around room searching for the escape routes. There was none, unless he wanted to try to jump from the third floor to a certain death. Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.
Baker gulped loudly as he stopped next to the chair in the front of the Syracuse’s desk. Syracuse was a shipping merchant, an old school Greek aristocrat and his business, as far as Baker knew, went all the way back to the days when the Aristotle had been alive. He even looked like Aristotle itself, but instead of hiding his rough figure in toga, his tailored silk-suit just enhanced his majestic presence. It made Baker to feel as if the man himself was a King, and the man next on his right was his executioner. However, even if he was, it didn’t explain his interest on the gene-manipulation, but then again the time was year 1980, and as far as Baker knew, he and his team were the only one conducting research in that field, by using methods that had to come from the future.
“Sit and explain yourself,” Syracuse demanded. His grasping voice made Baker to shiver and think how he could escape from the situation that he was in, but there was no other choice. He had to do it.
“I rather stand, if you don’t mind…”
“Suit yourself, but please do enlighten me on what happened in the hospital.”
Baker took off his glasses to swipe steam off from them, as he started to tell his story. “Sir…” he stopped for a moment to think if sir was good enough. “ Everything went according the plan until there was a accident that made the CORE device act weirdly. Our chief engineer believes that the device itself caused it…” He placed his glasses back on his nose, took out a small white metal case from his left pocket, and carefully placed it on the table. “Sir that is all the data that we managed to salvage from the magnetic tapes after the central computers crashed. The chief engineer said that a battery backup could have solved that problem…” He watched Syracuse picking up the case and sliding it open to reveal a flat-screen LCD display that was unheard off in 1980’s England. “As you can see the data clearly shows the injection and beginning of the transaction, but there is no data that shows the agent itself is working…”
Baker stopped for a couple seconds to think what he was going to say next, but the pause was enough Syracuse. He slammed his hand on the desk with such a force that Guy felt his heart jumping on his throat, as Syracuse spat out. “LIES…” He jerked his head towards the Baker, and said in Greek. “Niko, skotose ton!” Then he raised from his chair, flipped open a hidden panel on his desk and shouted. “WHERE’S THE BOY?”
Baker panicked as he heard bolts slamming on behind him. He stared at Niko, who was approaching him like a knife fighter. His legs danced on a floor like a cat approaching prey, and his claw was a long blade that gleamed in his hand. Baker’s hand went into his pocket, but he was already too late. Niko had already moved behind him, and placed his blade on Baker’s throat and hissed in his ear, “Try it, and you’ll be dead as dead as Miss Johnson. Where’s the boy?”
‘Shit’ Baker thought as he froze his movements. ‘Shit, ****, **** …’ He felt Niko switching blades on his throat, and then taking out the pistol from his pocket.
“You murdering conspirator,” Syracuse growled from behind the desk.
“If you kill me, you will never find the boy,” Baker heard his mouth saying at the same time as the plan played in his head. “He is well hidden and you never…”
“Niko, skistou to lemo,” Syracuse sighed and sat down.
Guy felt the blade cutting his throat, and as he felt his life escaping, he thought the boy. He would be safe. Nobody knew who he was, and where he was. The dead-man switch would trigger certain death to his crew and then Syracuse would never have his precious boy.

[0]

LONDON 2006, Tom Delay was sitting in the tube, cracking a Su-Doku puzzle in his head. For him, the puzzles were something that could take his always occupied mind away, and let his subconscious mind play. Although mister Delay looked like an ordinary city boy, he was far from being one of them, as his business was identity theft, and the suit was just a costume in role that he had assumed. Nevertheless, there was a one thing making him extraordinary, and it was the dreams that he had from time to time, dreams that showed him the future. However, he didn’t even realise today he was going to be the day when his life was going to change … forever.
There were times when Tom noticed that something was going on. He just did not quite understand what it meant, and most of the time he was just too busy to focus his mind on it.
This time Tom watched his image in the mirror that the dark metro tunnel created on the carriage windows. He had felt something, almost like a nudge hitting his subconscious mind and he saw his image twisting, and next thing that he understood was that he was sitting in an empty, dust-filled carriage, staring at pair of skeletons on opposite seats. As soon as the image had appeared, it disappeared.
‘What the hell,’ Tom thought. ‘Where did that come from? Was there something in the coffee?’ He looked at empty crushed cup he had chucked on the floor. ‘I swear to god that he will pay for it. He will be like others and he’ll have a credit card account or two…’ but it didn’t feel like as he was stoned; the feeling was more sort of sensation that he had after experiencing an deja-vu. Difference was that this it felt so much more powerful, raw … and so realistic.
Tom looked other people down at the carriage, and thought ‘Did they see what I did see’ but it was obvious that they had not experienced anything like that in their mundane lives. Even seeing the dreams that he had seen, seemed to be so rare, if not unique.
“Next station, Holland Park…” the carriage speakers blared.
‘Ah my stop,’ Tom thought as he folded newspaper under his arm, and at that point another nudge in his mind; this time it was far more powerful then the previous one.
Tom saw himself being in a cart moving towards a desolate West End of the London, and towards the tallest and weirdest looking tower, that occupied most of the land that at one point had belonged to the Central Government, and all the banking institutions. It was Tom’s playfield, but it looked so barren and so alien.
When Tom mind returned, he heard announcement from the speakers, “Next station, Shepherds Bush. Mind the gap,” He shook his head and stood up, feeling very strange. ‘There is something going on, I better get out, before I find myself in the last station.’
As the train stopped, Tom rushed out, sat on the first bench, and took a deep breath. The images twisted in his mind, and the sensation felt like the magic mushrooms that he once had tried with his partner. Tom grasped the chair with his fingers, leaned back as he swallowed the dusty air and lost his sense of time. The images were just too overpowering, and it took some time before he was able clear his mind.
When Tom woke up from the nightmarish daydream, he realised that there had been several trains that had stopped and moved on. He looked down the platform and he saw a transport official, on her high visibility vest, looking at him and talking to her radio.
Tom looked in the other direction, and saw a boxed CCTV camera looking at him. ‘I cannot stay here,’ he thought as he forced himself up and walk towards the exit. ‘Not now, I cannot be getting in hospital with three passports in my pocket.’
He smiled to the transport worker and said, “Tummy cramp. I had to sit down for a minute. It’s ok now.” Then he carried away, acting as if he was in hurry to find a toilet, and as he heard woman behind him cracking in her radio, “Bad kebab…” he felt fantastic. Woman had bought his lies.
‘Did I just see a future?’ Tom thought as he jogged up the stairs to the first landing, and took the escalator up to the top. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the wind blew on his face, and the next thing that he understood was the nudge on his feet, he had at the end of the escalators.
“I must be losing some time,” he muttered to himself, as he checked the time from his mobile. “I swear to god that it was much earlier, when I left the office…” He looked up and saw a police officer near the gates watching him, and talking to his radio. Tom quickly slapped his Oyster card on the reader, and moved out from the station to rainy London. He took a free newspaper from a fellow at the exit to shield himself, and started to jog towards Holland Park. There was no point of hailing the black cab on the rush hour London, because his home was just ten minutes away, and it could take much longer to get a cap.
When Tom moved into a subway tunnel on border of Shepherds Bush and Holland Park, he felt a nudge in his mind, this time it wasn’t just one, but a whole series of them. He felt a gust of wind blowing down the tunnel, and starting to swirl around him. The wind picked up everything around him, but left him alone to stand in the eye of the vortex.
Behind the flying rubbish and sudden arches of lightning, he saw the tunnel starting to age, and things moving as if time itself was on fast forward. People suddenly appeared, moved rapidly through the tunnel, but when they moved through him, it shook him to the core, as they didn’t even notice that he was there.
Suddenly it was night, as the time moved forward with an ever-increasing pace, and a few minutes later the sun rose. Tom took out his mobile and saw that the time was passing normally in it. Looking up, days whistled by and became months as the seasons started to change. As suddenly the nature had bloomed at the other end of the tunnel, and the bushes in alleyway started to change colours, finally shedding their leaves when the autumn storms appeared; then he realised winter with its grey clouds had settled in. To Tom the time at the outside seemed to move forward faster, ever faster…
Tom felt his motion sickness coming as he watched the sun and the moon dancing at the end of the tunnel. He felt his legs giving way. In the end he did not care what was happening, he just wanted to get back to his bed, and hide under the thick cover of his duvet. The blackness filled his mind and he collapsed.

[1]

[Urlik]

he had spent on his private school principal’s office

should be;
he had spent in his private school principal’s office

He even looked like Aristotle itself

should be;
He even looked like Aristotle himself

It made Baker to feel as if the man himself was a King

should not have the "to"
It made Baker feel as if the man himself was a King

and the man next on his right was his executioner

the "next" is unnessecerry
and the man on his right was his executioner

it didn’t explain his interest on the gene-manipulation,

should be;
it didn’t explain his interest in the gene-manipulation,

but then again the time was year 1980,

would read better as
but then again the year was 1980,

by using methods that had to come from the future.

it would read better without the "by"
using methods that had to come from the future.

His grasping voice made Baker to shiver

I think you meant rasping voice and you don't need that "to"
His rasping voice made Baker shiver

and think how he could escape from the situation that he was in,

I think it would read better if the sentence was shortened;
and think how he could escape from this situation,

"I rather stand, if you don’t mind…”

should be;
"I'd rather stand, if you don’t mind…”

Baker took off his glasses to swipe steam off from them, as he started to tell his story.

would read better as;
Baker took off his glasses and started to clean them, as he started to tell his story.

according the plan until there was a accident that made the CORE device act weirdly.

the "a" should be an "an", and it might sound more realistic if he said behave unpredictably instead of act weirdly
according the plan until there was an accident which made the CORE device behave unpredictably.

[Zubi-Ondo]

Originally Posted by ctg

The answer to second question is that I'm not sure what is the correct intention. You see a vision, then you think about, so what do you say? "Did I see the future", or "Did I just saw the future?" What is the correct way of saying it? As I am not a native speaker, I cannot know for sure, so please tell me.

I didn't know your native language was not English, as your text states you are living in England. I applaud your courage to write in a second tongue. The correct way is 'Did I just see the future?', and I think single quotes are correct (the way you did) for the passage since it is internal dialogue.

One more adjustment I would suggest:

Some would probably have thought his business was malign.

Should be

Some would probably have thought his business was maligned.

(indicating past tense).

- Z.

[Urlik]

I'll do some more proof reading and critiquing later as I have a few things to do now.

good luck with the writing, I want to know what happens

I'd leave it as "malign", suggesting that the work he is doing is somehow menacing and dangerous, possibly for evil intent.
"maligned" suggests that the business has been unjustly wronged, libelled or slandered

[ctg]

Thanks Urlik, if you want to know what has happened, then you have to wait, like everyone else, till it has been copy-edited by someone. Thing is that I have a copy-editor, but I cannot afford to pay him, as no work results no money and no copy-editing.

PROLOGUE

“Syracuse is ready to see you,” a secretary wearing a long, black dress said, and gestured Doctor Guy Baker to step behind the oak double-doors that stood ominously behind her desk. Doctor Baker looked like an ordinary man going to a business-meeting, but he was far from ordinary, as his title of chief scientist told. Neither was he an ordinary scientist, but something far more sinister. Some would probably have thought his business was malign.
“Thanks,” Baker replied. He stood up and checked his tie for the last time, while he thought about how he was going to present the case to his mysterious yet intimidating employer. ‘You just be cool about the accident, and don’t talk about the boy. Yes, as far as he needs to know, the boy is as dead as the old fellow.’
Cold sweat poured down on his back as he stepped through the doors to the lavishly furnished office. The whole atmospheres made Baker remember times that, he had spent in his private school principal’s office explaining his mishaps. Even the Greek statues and the pottery on the pedestals made it look all so much the same.
‘Oh ****’, he thought, as he saw the company that was standing next to the Syracuse desk. Although the man competed in the blackness with the secretary, his skull-like, long face made Baker feel as if the Death itself was present in the room. ‘This is definitely not good. I bet he already knows.’
Baker quickly touched his right jacket pocket to check that a small hold-out pistol was still there, as his gaze wandered around room searching for the escape routes. There was none, unless he wanted to try to jump from the third floor to a certain death. Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.
Baker gulped loudly as he stopped next to the chair in the front of the Syracuse’s desk. Syracuse was a shipping merchant, an old school Greek aristocrat and his business, as far as Baker knew, went all the way back to the days when the Aristotle had been alive. He even looked like Aristotle himself, but instead of hiding his rough figure in toga, his tailored silk-suit just enhanced his majestic presence. It made Baker feel as if the man himself was a King, and the man on his right was his executioner. However, even if he was, it didn’t explain his interest on the gene-manipulation, but then again the was year 1980, and as far as Baker knew, he and his team were the only one conducting research in that field, using methods that had to come from the future.
“Sit and explain yourself,” Syracuse demanded. His rasping voice made Baker shiver and think how he could escape from the situation, but there was no other choice. He had to do it.
“I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind…”
“Suit yourself, but please do enlighten me on what happened in the hospital.”
Baker took off his glasses and started to clean them, as he started to tell his story. “Sir…” he stopped for a moment to think if sir was good enough. “ Everything went according the plan until there was an accident, which made the CORE device act unpredictably. Our chief engineer believes that the device itself caused it…” He placed his glasses back on his nose, took out a small white metal case from his left pocket, and carefully placed it on the table. “Sir that is all the data that we managed to salvage from the magnetic tapes after the central computers crashed. The chief engineer said that a battery backup could have solved that problem…” He watched Syracuse picking up the case and sliding it open to reveal a flat-screen LCD display that was unheard off in 1980’s England. “As you can see the data clearly shows the injection and beginning of the transaction, but there is no data that shows the agent itself is working…”
Baker stopped for a couple seconds to think what he was going to say next, but the pause was enough Syracuse. He slammed his hand on the desk with such a force that Guy felt his heart jumping on his throat, as Syracuse spat out. “LIES…” He jerked his head towards the Baker, and said in Greek. “Niko, skotose ton!” Then he raised from his chair, flipped open a hidden panel on his desk and shouted. “WHERE’S THE BOY?”
Baker panicked as he heard bolts slamming on behind him. He stared at Niko, who was approaching him like a knife fighter. His legs danced on a floor like a cat approaching prey, and his claw was a long blade that gleamed in his hand. Baker’s hand went into his pocket, but he was already too late. Niko had already moved behind him, and placed his blade on Baker’s throat and hissed in his ear, “Try it, and you’ll be dead as dead as Miss Johnson. Where’s the boy?”
‘Shit’ Baker thought as he froze his movements. ‘Shit, ****, **** …’ He felt Niko switching blades on his throat, and then taking out the pistol from his pocket.
“You murdering conspirator,” Syracuse growled from behind the desk.
“If you kill me, you will never find the boy,” Baker heard his mouth saying at the same time as the plan played in his head. “He is well hidden and you never…”
“Niko, skistou to lemo,” Syracuse sighed and sat down.
Guy felt the blade cutting his throat, and as he felt his life escaping, he thought the boy. He would be safe. Nobody knew who he was, and where he was. The dead-man switch would trigger certain death to his crew and then Syracuse would never have his precious boy.

[0]

LONDON 2006, Tom Delay was sitting in the tube, cracking a Su-Doku puzzle in his head. For him, the puzzles were something that could take his always occupied mind away, and let his subconscious mind play. Although mister Delay looked like an ordinary city boy, he was far from being one of them, as his business was identity theft, and the suit was just a costume in role that he had assumed. Nevertheless, there was a one thing making him extraordinary, and it was the dreams that he had from time to time, dreams that showed him the future. However, he didn’t even realise today he was going to be the day when his life was going to change … forever.
There were times when Tom noticed that something was going on. He just did not quite understand what it meant, and most of the time he was just too busy to focus his mind on it.
This time Tom watched his image in the mirror that the dark metro tunnel created on the carriage windows. He had felt something, almost like a nudge hitting his subconscious mind and he saw his image twisting, and next thing that he understood was that he was sitting in an empty, dust-filled carriage, staring at pair of skeletons on opposite seats. As soon as the image had appeared, it disappeared.
‘What the hell,’ Tom thought. ‘Where did that come from? Was there something in the coffee?’ He looked at empty crushed cup he had chucked on the floor. ‘I swear to god that he will pay for it. He will be like others and he’ll have a credit card account or two…’ but it didn’t feel like as he was stoned; the feeling was more sort of sensation that he had after experiencing an deja-vu. Difference was that this it felt so much more powerful, raw … and so realistic.
Tom looked other people down at the carriage, and thought ‘Did they see what I did see’ but it was obvious that they had not experienced anything like that in their mundane lives. Even seeing the dreams that he had seen, seemed to be so rare, if not unique.
“Next station, Holland Park…” the carriage speakers blared.
‘Ah my stop,’ Tom thought as he folded newspaper under his arm, and at that point another nudge in his mind; this time it was far more powerful then the previous one.
Tom saw himself being in a cart moving towards a desolate West End of the London, and towards the tallest and weirdest looking tower, that occupied most of the land that at one point had belonged to the Central Government, and all the banking institutions. It was Tom’s playfield, but it looked so barren and so alien.
When Tom mind returned, he heard announcement from the speakers, “Next station, Shepherds Bush. Mind the gap,” He shook his head and stood up, feeling very strange. ‘There is something going on, I better get out, before I find myself in the last station.’
As the train stopped, Tom rushed out, sat on the first bench, and took a deep breath. The images twisted in his mind, and the sensation felt like the magic mushrooms that he once had tried with his partner. Tom grasped the chair with his fingers, leaned back as he swallowed the dusty air and lost his sense of time. The images were just too overpowering, and it took some time before he was able clear his mind.
When Tom woke up from the nightmarish daydream, he realised that there had been several trains that had stopped and moved on. He looked down the platform and he saw a transport official, on her high visibility vest, looking at him and talking to her radio.
Tom looked in the other direction, and saw a boxed CCTV camera looking at him. ‘I cannot stay here,’ he thought as he forced himself up and walk towards the exit. ‘Not now, I cannot be getting in hospital with three passports in my pocket.’
He smiled to the transport worker and said, “Tummy cramp. I had to sit down for a minute. It’s ok now.” Then he carried away, acting as if he was in hurry to find a toilet, and as he heard woman behind him cracking in her radio, “Bad kebab…” he felt fantastic. Woman had bought his lies.
‘Did I just see a future?’ Tom thought as he jogged up the stairs to the first landing, and took the escalator up to the top. He closed his eyes and relaxed as the wind blew on his face, and the next thing that he understood was the nudge on his feet, he had at the end of the escalators.
“I must be losing some time,” he muttered to himself, as he checked the time from his mobile. “I swear to god that it was much earlier, when I left the office…” He looked up and saw a police officer near the gates watching him, and talking to his radio. Tom quickly slapped his Oyster card on the reader, and moved out from the station to rainy London. He took a free newspaper from a fellow at the exit to shield himself, and started to jog towards Holland Park. There was no point of hailing the black cab on the rush hour London, because his home was just ten minutes away, and it could take much longer to get a cap.
When Tom moved into a subway tunnel on border of Shepherds Bush and Holland Park, he felt a nudge in his mind, this time it wasn’t just one, but a whole series of them. He felt a gust of wind blowing down the tunnel, and starting to swirl around him. The wind picked up everything around him, but left him alone to stand in the eye of the vortex.
Behind the flying rubbish and sudden arches of lightning, he saw the tunnel starting to age, and things moving as if time itself was on fast forward. People suddenly appeared, moved rapidly through the tunnel, but when they moved through him, it shook him to the core, as they didn’t even notice that he was there.
Suddenly it was night, as the time moved forward with an ever-increasing pace, and a few minutes later the sun rose. Tom took out his mobile and saw that the time was passing normally in it. Looking up, days whistled by and became months as the seasons started to change. As suddenly the nature had bloomed at the other end of the tunnel, and the bushes in alleyway started to change colours, finally shedding their leaves when the autumn storms appeared; then he realised winter with its grey clouds had settled in. To Tom the time at the outside seemed to move forward faster, ever faster…
Tom felt his motion sickness coming as he watched the sun and the moon dancing at the end of the tunnel. He felt his legs giving way. In the end he did not care what was happening, he just wanted to get back to his bed, and hide under the thick cover of his duvet. The blackness filled his mind and he collapsed.

[1]

[ctg]

Originally Posted by Zubi-Ondo

I didn't know your native language was not English, as your text states you are living in England. I applaud your courage to write in a second tongue.

Thank you Zubi, but you should know that not every people living in England are native speakers, even if they're residents.

The correct way is 'Did I just see the future?', and I think single quotes are correct (the way you did) for the passage since it is internal dialogue.

Internal monologue you mean? Does Mister Delay appear as a round character to you?

[Zubi-Ondo]

Originally Posted by Urlik

I'd leave it as "malign", suggesting that the work he is doing is somehow menacing and dangerous, possibly for evil intent.
"maligned" suggests that the business has been unjustly wronged, libelled or slandered

Well, sorry, but that just isn't the way I'm used to seeing it. Perhaps it's a British thing. I looked it up, and yes, you can use the word malign as an adjective, but then at very least I would say

Some would probably have thought his business was a malign one.

I am used to seeing the word used as a verb, as in "His intent was to malign the business." and the tense maligned, is an adjective and doesn't necessarily indicate an outside influence. The malignment can be enirely intrinsic.

From dictionary.com:
maligned
adj.

1. Evil in disposition, nature, or intent.
2. Evil in influence; injurious.
3. Having or showing malice or ill will; malevolent.

Also you could say:

Some would probably have thought his business was malignant.

My intent here is not to start an argument, but to simply clarify my reasons for the statement.

- Z.

[Zubi-Ondo]

Originally Posted by ctg

Thank you Zubi, but you should know that not every people living in England are native speakers, even if they're residents.

Yes, well of course, but statistically most people who live in a country are natives of that country. England in the past has had a tendency to invade lots of places, just as America still does (God knows why), so I'm not surprised at all to see a lot of different people there. In the words of a native Brit: "Imagine there's no countries, Nothing to kill or die for, Imagine all the people, Living life in peace..."

Originally Posted by ctg

Internal monologue you mean?

I'm not sure how to phrase that. He's talking to himself, so externally it's one person, but I though monologue was strictly meant to mean a speech (as in addressing a crowd).

Does Mister Delay appear as a round character to you?

I'm not sure I know enough about him yet to say... So far he seems to be at the mercy of some strange occurences, and that does make me curious about what is going on, but I don't feel that I know Tom very well yet.

- Z.