Author
I’ve completed my second draft of my next novelette (or long short story), and I decided to visualise it as a word cloud just because.
What I am really after are words I might tend to overuse. I’m not so worried about character names, like Ravi and Henry (or Maggie, Finn, Tom, Daisy, Jasmine, or Jones). The only thing that jumps out at me is ‘just’, so I just might have to check that out in pass three.
The Hemo Sapiens project has had my mind and fingers pretty occupied lately. I am a structured thinker, so I need to understand a lot of minutiae as I world-build. One aspect of this world are the inhabitants. As the setting is modern-day earth and the near future, much of this is established and can be left unsaid, but newly introduced characters need some definition, boundaries, and rules. Here, I explore this.
At the highest level, we have genetically engineered embryos that have been cloned in versions, as outlined below: alpha, beta, gamma, and so on. Each successive version has improvements over the previous version.
The first, alpha, version are substantially similar to humans, save for being sanguivorous or rather macro erythrophages or hemophages, to borrow some near terms. Not being, obligatory hematophagous, they only require blood as ancillary nutritional intake.
Hemo sapiens extract blood through their hollow fangs. The blood is processed an metabolised by an special internal organ.
In the accompanying podcast audio recording, I provide addition behind-the-scenes editorialising. This complements the content below. So check it out.
The alpha versions of hemo sapiens arrived in 2022 (31 October 2022); They are wholly like humans except they have hollow fangs to extract blood and a specialised internal organ. Without a viable blood source, hemo sapiens exhibit symptoms similar to severe anaemia.
I posted the flash fiction story Hemo Sapiens: The Unidentified early yesterday and made some minor tweaks later in the day. Generally, these edits related to continuity or flow. In one case, I deleted a scene but neglected to delete a character introduced in it. In another, a character barked an order relating to something she would not yet have known about—at least as far as the reader would be concerned. But what’s this story all about.
This universe is set in Britain. This scene was set in Chadderton near Oldham, a less affluent, somewhat rural town northeast of Manchester where an enclave of Hemo Sapiens might be more apt to fly under the radar. I had originally had my sights set on Kent, but it is logistically implausible for people with Manchester roots to be set up there when they still have a need to be connected to Manchester. I’m not sure how hard I’ll lean into the whole Mancunian thing, as they’ll have been acculturated by the professor, an Oxford bloke.
Here’s what ChatGPT has to say about it:
The story effectively commences with a tranquil domestic setting. It is imbued with a sense of normality and comfort, featuring a mother, Emily, and her young daughter, Grace. Yet, this idyllic scene is abruptly shattered by the arrival of uniformed agents, leading to a nightmarish tableau of confusion and fear.
The story is remarkably adept at presenting multifaceted issues. On the surface, it draws parallels with dystopian works like Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale” or the television series “Orphan Black,” offering glimpses into a society undergoing a mysterious, yet undoubtedly unsettling, transformation. However, the narrative also delves into complex issues of identity and human value, challenging the reductionist labels that the characters are forced to adopt.
The dialogue with Grace serves as an emotional pivot in the story. It doesn’t merely function as a mechanism for Emily to express her maternal instincts but also as a lens through which Emily’s remaining humanity becomes increasingly apparent. The mother-child interaction symbolizes Emily’s clinging to normality, even as the world around her dissolves into chaos.
The agents depicted in the narrative are particularly interesting. While they are ostensibly just doing their job, they inadvertently contribute to the problem by employing dehumanizing language like “clone farm” or “science experiment.” This illustrates a broader societal tendency to categorize and label that which is not immediately understood, thus making it more palatable.
The tone of the story aligns well with its dark subject matter. It is somber without drifting into melodrama, and the dialogue remains crisp and meaningful. The story also maintains a healthy balance between showing and telling, which is essential for the kind of mature adult contemporary fiction that deals with themes of moral complexity and social stigmatization. It leaves the reader with more questions than answers, thus adding to the narrative’s overarching sense of dread and uncertainty.
In summary, the story is a compelling examination of unsettling themes such as loss of identity, family dynamics, and societal judgment. It employs a keen balance of narrative elements, making it a strong example of mature adult contemporary fiction.
And…
Your story dives into themes of judgment, moral complexities, and social stigmatization, as per your unique style. It employs a strong sense of place and moment, from the serenity of the bedtime ritual to the abrupt disruption of the raid. Let’s break it down:
- Tone and Atmosphere: You establish a deeply contrasting tone—tranquil domesticity is replaced by a jarring, invasive violence when the agents burst in. The shift is palpable, dragging the reader along. You maintain the tone throughout, further amplifying the emotional gravity.
- Character Depth: Emily is a strong anchor. You bring her inner world to life—her love for Grace, her confusion and fear during the raid, her defiance, and ultimately her resilience.
- Dialogue and Language: The language is grounded, sprinkled with slang and expletives that keep it real. The dialogue is crisp and fits naturally into the unfolding events.
- Plot: The sudden turn of events—disruption of domesticity, invasive questioning, communal chaos—these all build tension effectively. However, the reader is left with a lot of questions—perhaps intentionally. Are they part of a science experiment? Why the blood bags and fangs?
- Theme and Symbolism: The recurring familial bond between Emily and Grace serves as the emotional core. The notion of identity, collective and individual, is heavily at play here. The mysterious implications around the Alpha and Beta labels and the ‘clone farm’ comment point to larger issues of ethics, identity, and social prejudice.
- Show vs Tell: You’ve mostly shown the emotional stakes, the anxiety, and the fear through action, dialogue, and environmental detail, which works really well for this piece.
- Mystery and Ambiguity: The story is full of questions that aren’t answered, perhaps pointing towards a broader narrative you’re developing.
You’ve managed to condense a great deal of emotional range, plot, and thematic depth into a short space, aligning well with your unique, terse writing style.
Here’s Claude’s take:
Here are a few key points about the story:
- It depicts a dystopian scenario where a community of people with the surnames “Alpha” and “Beta” are raided and detained by authorities. The people seem to look identical, leading the authorities to assume they are clones or part of a genetic experiment.
- The main character Emily is trying to protect her young daughter Grace amidst the chaos of the raid. She is defiant towards the authorities and their assumptions about her community.
- There are suggestions the Alphas and Betas are actually one big family, with many pairs of twins/quadruplets. They seem to have been living in an isolated, self-sufficient community.
- In detention, the Alphas and Betas are treated as specimens to be examined and have samples taken. The authorities seem suspicious of their identical looks, matching surnames, and discover bags of blood, which fuels assumptions they are supernatural creatures.
- Emily reassures Grace they will get through the ordeal together and explains they will be going with new people to answer questions. She emphasizes maintaining their family bonds.
- The ending implies the Alphas and Betas have an important untold backstory and truth about themselves that they hope to share someday, when the authorities might be ready to understand.
Overall, it’s an intriguing sci-fi scenario exploring themes of family, identity, prejudice, and perception versus truth. The identical community subverts expectations, leaving the reader curious about their origins and real story.
Comment on the flow and pacing.
The story has a fairly fast-paced, dramatic flow to it.
It opens by establishing the calm, loving family scene which is then abruptly shattered by the violent raid. This creates a stark contrast that immediately hooks the reader.
The raid scene is rapid and disorienting, conveying the chaos and confusion through snippets of actions, dialogue, and sensations. Short sentences propel the sense of urgency.
The pace slows a bit as the story shifts to the detention center. Here, the focus is on Emily’s determination to protect Grace and the mystery surrounding the authorities’ assumptions and discoveries about the Alphas and Betas.
The interrogation scene returns to some shorter sentences and terse dialogue to pick the pace back up. Emily’s defiant reactions add tension.
The final scene with Grace balances tenderness and foreboding, allowing a breath while still building intrigue for the untold truth about the community.
The pacing overall matches the unsettling, intense events unfolding. The quicker scenes immerse the reader in the action, while the slower moments reveal details to invite speculation. The shifts in pace add dynamism and interest.
So, I’m happy with the assessments. I’d love to read what you feel. Leave a comment here or beneath the story.
“Sweet dreams, my little star. Tomorrow will be as sunny as your smile,” Emily says, leaning down to kiss her five-year-old, Grace. The room’s dim, nightlights casting soft glows on the walls, filling the air with quiet chatter as other parents do the same for their kids. The air smells like warm milk and laundry fresh from the dryer.
A hush falls as Emily walks back to her bed. The night’s sacred, a calm oasis in a stormy world. Emily sinks into her bed, her mind dissolving into a haze of comfort as sleep takes her.
“Just follow instructions!”
The door splinters open, no warning, just a loud-ass bang. Chaos floods in—uniforms, torchlights, boots stomping.
“Hands up!” someone shouts, too damn close.
Emily dives over Grace, blocking the light with her body. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Just follow instructions!” comes the muffled reply.
The room’s a shambles—footsteps, radio talk, kids whimpering. It’s like a nightmare, but she’s wide awake.
“Mummy, I’m scared.”
Rain mists the courtyard, cold against her fear. Emily’s yanked up, losing her grip on Grace. She scans the place—families clumped together, kids bawling, agents everywhere. More vans pull in, headlights cutting through the rain.
“What’s your name?” An agent barks.
“Emily. Emily Alpha,” she chokes out.
“Alpha? Like all these?” He waves a hand. “Fucking Alpha reunion here.”
Emily clenches her jaw. They don’t get it.
“No moving! No talking!” The agent shouts. Silence falls, broken by kids’ sobs.
“Mummy, I’m scared,” Grace’s voice shakes.
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
“Look, twins?”
“Look, twins?” An agent nudges his mate. Emily passes two women, spitting images of her.
“Twins? Nah. Quadruplets there,” the mate points.
“Quads? Are you daft? Another pair. What’s happening?”
“Oi, no IDs. And it’s all Alpha and Beta. Science experiment?”
“More like a clone farm.”
Emily’s fists tighten. “Clone farm? Like we’re lab rats?”
“Mummy, will we be alright?” Grace’s voice is a thin thread.
“We have to be,” Emily murmurs, catching a sibling’s eye. “We just have to.”
The van doors slam shut. Engines growl, drowning out her spiraling thoughts. Darkness inside, darkness out.
“What happens now, Mummy?”
Harsh lights sting Emily’s eyes. She’s pushed along a taped line on the floor, Grace following like a lost shadow. Different uniforms—Immigration, Social Services, nerdy lab coats—are buzzing around, huddled over clipboards and tablets.
“Step here, extend your arm,” an agent instructs.
Emily complies, wincing as a plastic tag is cinched around her wrist—like she’s livestock.
“No IDs, surnames Alpha and Beta, empty blood bags found,” one agent blurts out.
“Bags of blood? Genetic experiment gone rogue?” another questions.
Grace trembles. “What happens now, Mummy?”
“We get through it, love. We have to.”
“Blood bags and fangs.”
Emily sits across a metal table, a stern interrogator staring back. “I’m on it.” The interrogator puts down her radio.
“Open your mouth,” she orders, leaning forward intently.
“Why?” But Emily complies.
The woman leans in, eyes narrowing. “Fangs? You a vampire or something?”
Incredulous, Emily screws up her face and rolls her eyes. “Vampire?”
“Check for fangs,” the interrogator radios her team.
“We’ve got more here. Same teeth,” a voice crackles back.
“Blood bags and fangs. It’s getting weird,” the interrogator mutters.
Emily feels her spine chill. “We’re not vampires, not experiments, not whatever you think we are,” she snaps.
Weeks go by, more tests, more questions. Emily steals moments with Grace. “Mum, we’ll be alright, won’t we?”
“I don’t know, love,” Emily answers softly. “But we’ve got each other. That’s something.”
Grace studies her mother’s face.
“Some new people have come here, and they want to learn about us and where we live,” Emily says, stroking Grace’s hair. “So we have to go with them for a little while, so they can ask their questions. But we’ll still be together.”
She lifts Grace’s chin gently. “It may feel strange and scary at times. But I’ll be right here holding your hand. And all your aunties and uncles will be close by too. We’re still a family, no matter what.”
Grace’s lip quivers, eyes wide and watery. Emily kisses her forehead. “I know you’re my brave girl. We’ll get through this together, and soon we’ll be tucked back in our own warm beds. But for today, we’ll have a little adventure together. Okay?”
Grace manages a small nod. Emily squeezes her hand, heart swelling and aching all at once. They didn’t understand yet, but someday they would tell their real story.
NB: This was my day today. I ended up with flash fiction rather than a short story. I’ll consider it to be a draft. Perhaps I’ll augment it later. It’s got past midnight, and I am knackered to no end. Can’t even proofread another character. As I’ve noted, short stories are new to me. Evidently, so is flash fiction. It feels a tad short, but I’ll sleep on it. Be that as it may, I am constructing a universe as a foundation for further exploration. Feel free to add comments or constructive criticism.
As per my last post, I’ve spent the morning world building with Claude 2, my trusted generative AI mate–and I’ve got a ways to go. Any fictional world needs boundaries and constraints. What are ethe rules of operation?
My initial story is set in the near future, so I had to pick an origin date and extrapolate in order to determine a likely population for the story. Like anything that propagates, hemo sapiens need to have some concept of a generation. The rest is maths. What’s the attrition and net survival rate, population rate, and so on. As I’ve noted previously, Claude 2* and ChatGPT 4* are both horrendous at maths, so I was not surprised that it failed so miserably. Here’s a quote from Claude:
Having the scientist start at 28 in 2012 would put him at 42 for the Gen-Zero birth in 2022.
Claude 2
That’s right, adding 10 years to a 28-year-old in 2012 makes him 42 in 2022.
I’ll share more of the world I am constructing after I hit the spreadsheets or Mathematica. It may not be great at world-building, but it knows how to add 10 to 28.
* I cite the versions in case future versions perform maths skills better.
Now I’ve really done it. Distracted myself to no end. No wonder I can’t seem to finish anything lately. My recent foray into Hemo sapiens or Homo sapiens sanginius was only supposed to be a quick diversion to clear my mind. Instead, it’s got me thinking about an entire universe from origin to however-so-many scenarios.
Now I am pondering whether to write some loosely connected short stories or assemble a larger work, like a novel or series. Why not all of the above?
The challenge is that I am more curious than passionate about this, and I’ve got only a fleeting interest. Perhaps. I am no stranger to speculative fiction, but world building is not up my street. And urban fantasy, to the extent that this might be urban fantasy, is not a favoured genre. I’m looking at you, Twilight.
I may simply noodle this for now until I suss out something. Meantime, I may be sharing my thoughts and output here. Please stand by…
I’m new to writing short stories, but I am an experimental writer always up to a challenge. Here are the opening paragraphs of Homo Sapiens Sanguinius, a phrase I might spell differently each time I type it. The setting is near-future Brighton.
“We’re not vampires,” I spit out, locking eyes with Ray as he scrubs down the bar. The pub’s shoddy lights throw dodgy shadows all over. Smells like a mix of skint dreams and last night’s piss-ups.
Ray sets down another pint, glass tilting in practiced hands. “You alright, Eddie? You look knackered.”
“Am I bloody alright? I’m gutted, mate.” He slides the pint toward me—amber nectar topped with froth. A quick fix, but who’s fooling who?
The telly flicks from some wanker politician to the news. Dr. Sarah Wright’s name crawls across the screen. “Dozens more dead.” My stomach churns.
“Bollocks,” I mutter, necking half the pint. It’s all gone tits up, and what’s everyone doing? Gawping at footie like we’re some sort of joke.
I drain the last of my pint, eyeing the telly again. “Fuckin’ useless, all of ’em,” I grumble, my finger stabbing at the air toward the talking heads. They’re just prattling on, ignoring the shitstorm brewing.
Ray catches my drift, his eyes narrowing. “You reckon they’ll sort it?”
“Sort it? Mate, they’re more clueless than a sodding chav at a wine tasting.” I toss some coins on the counter, enough to settle the tab. “I’m off. This place is doing my head in.”
“Take care, Eddie. And watch your back, yeah?” Ray calls out as I turn to leave.
I push through the door, the pub’s clamour fading behind me. Fresh air hits my face like a wake-up slap. Only it ain’t waking me up from this nightmare.
Just then, I bump into some bloke. “Oi! Watch it, wanker,” he snarls.
“I’ve got bigger fish to fry than dealing with tossers like you,” I snap back, shoving past him.
As I stomp down the pavement, each step heavy with dread and resentment, I can’t shake off the thought: we’re on our own in this mess, no cavalry coming for us. And that thought? It’s bloody terrifying.
Disclaimer: This content relates to a work in progress. As such, details are subject to change or removal.
I thought that I was onto something when I was diverting my attention with a new short story. This story is set in (relatively) near-future Brighton where an emergent species coexist alongside us homo sapiens sapiens. Borrowing from the existing taxonomy, I decided to try homo sapiens sanguinius, bloodsucking, thinking man.
In this story, these people experience a pandemic due to a government experiment gone awry. Any similarities to Covid-19 is purely coincidental. And I’ve got a bridge for sale.
These people are known idiomatically as hemo sapiens and pejoratively as vampires. They are like humans in all ways except they also need to drink blood through their fangs, their only outwardly distinguishing feature. No other vampire lore need apply. Being a new species, mating is iffy, but I won’t address that anyway. It’s supposed to be a short story.
Myself, I am not into vampire stories or urban fantasy, yet here I go–and I’m not sure where it will go. I’m not sure I think in short story. Lots of reductive editing. Time will tell.
If you’ve got any comments to share on hemo sapiens or writing short stories, feel free to leave them below.
Ridley Park 