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Writing Group / Re: Writing Prompts!
« on: December 19, 2010, 05:37:24 PM »
Accepted
By Miranda Mann
“Helen.”
“Error.”
“Renee.”
“Denied.”
“Ruth.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“Lily.”
“No.”
“Alsie.”
“Another error.”
“Delara.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“Really? Why would it accept Delara but reject Lily?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“But I don’t like Delara.”
“Then you really shouldn’t have said it. Please continue. Boys next.”
“Do you think…do you think I could see them?”
“I hardly see a point in that.”
“Curiosity, I guess.”
“There’s not much to see. We’re on this stack, fifth petri dish down.”
“How many cells are they?”
“Each is only 128 cells. We insert the identification DNA now so it will replicate throughout the body. This way no
one can impersonate a Free Person.”
“Right.”
“Please continue.”
“Derek.”
“Denied.”
“Gavin.”
“No.”
“Sean.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“I don’t know why I even need to be here. Can’t the algorithm just pick a name for me? It rejects all the names I like
anyway.”
“Pick for you? What kind of mother’s touch would that be? Besides, it violates your rights.”
“Does it? Then why can’t I have any name I like?”
“That really isn’t up to me. I think it has to do with other blastulas being named at the same time. Please continue.”
“Rishab.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“Hmmm. Rishab. I assumed it would reject that one. I need to be more careful.”
“As I said before.”
“I sometimes feel like this isn’t…natural.”
“That’s an acceptable feeling. But we can’t have the algorithm choosing for you. Please continue.”
“No, I mean this whole thing. I heard women used to grow one child at a time. I heard it was magical.”
“False. Women were once constrained to producing between one and eight offspring at a time, but it was never magical. The children often died, and the mother as well. Why run such a risk for a minimal payoff?”
“But I heard you could feel the baby moving. Inside you.”
“Much like a parasite. I guess there truly is a difference between Breeders and the rest of us. Now please continue.”
“Aston.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“Hmph. First try that time.”
“Please continue.”
“Josh.”
“Negative.”
“Sam.”
“Wrong.”
“Samuel.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“What about hair, eye and skin color? Do I get to choose those?”
“That is for the parents to decide. Don’t get greedy. Naming is within your rights. Please continue.”
“I heard that women used to be beautiful when they were growing their babies. That they used to glow.”
“Like radio-active waste? Women used to gain between ten and seventy pounds for only one offspring! They used to throw up and bleed and spend months in pain. You are lucky things aren’t that way anymore. And then you would have to find a way to take care of the thing yourself, which we all know is impossible for someone like you. Now will you please focus? And continue.”
“Nathan.”
“Error.”
“Naman.”
“No.”
“Navan.”
“Denied. Stop making things up.”
“Naban.”
“Accepted. Hmmm.”
“Please continue?”
“Yes.”
“Could I ever hold them?”
“What?”
“When they come out of the final jars. Could I ever hold them? Just a little?”
“That is quite enough. Talking about glowing and growing them yourself is one thing. But the Free People aren’t going to stand for a Breeder holding their children. Now, I’m a tolerant woman, and you are lucky. But I suggest you never let anyone hear you talk like that again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good. Now please continue.”
“Henry.”
“Accepted. That’s a good one.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
By Miranda Mann
“Helen.”
“Error.”
“Renee.”
“Denied.”
“Ruth.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“Lily.”
“No.”
“Alsie.”
“Another error.”
“Delara.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“Really? Why would it accept Delara but reject Lily?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“But I don’t like Delara.”
“Then you really shouldn’t have said it. Please continue. Boys next.”
“Do you think…do you think I could see them?”
“I hardly see a point in that.”
“Curiosity, I guess.”
“There’s not much to see. We’re on this stack, fifth petri dish down.”
“How many cells are they?”
“Each is only 128 cells. We insert the identification DNA now so it will replicate throughout the body. This way no
one can impersonate a Free Person.”
“Right.”
“Please continue.”
“Derek.”
“Denied.”
“Gavin.”
“No.”
“Sean.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“I don’t know why I even need to be here. Can’t the algorithm just pick a name for me? It rejects all the names I like
anyway.”
“Pick for you? What kind of mother’s touch would that be? Besides, it violates your rights.”
“Does it? Then why can’t I have any name I like?”
“That really isn’t up to me. I think it has to do with other blastulas being named at the same time. Please continue.”
“Rishab.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“Hmmm. Rishab. I assumed it would reject that one. I need to be more careful.”
“As I said before.”
“I sometimes feel like this isn’t…natural.”
“That’s an acceptable feeling. But we can’t have the algorithm choosing for you. Please continue.”
“No, I mean this whole thing. I heard women used to grow one child at a time. I heard it was magical.”
“False. Women were once constrained to producing between one and eight offspring at a time, but it was never magical. The children often died, and the mother as well. Why run such a risk for a minimal payoff?”
“But I heard you could feel the baby moving. Inside you.”
“Much like a parasite. I guess there truly is a difference between Breeders and the rest of us. Now please continue.”
“Aston.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“Hmph. First try that time.”
“Please continue.”
“Josh.”
“Negative.”
“Sam.”
“Wrong.”
“Samuel.”
“Accepted. Please continue.”
“What about hair, eye and skin color? Do I get to choose those?”
“That is for the parents to decide. Don’t get greedy. Naming is within your rights. Please continue.”
“I heard that women used to be beautiful when they were growing their babies. That they used to glow.”
“Like radio-active waste? Women used to gain between ten and seventy pounds for only one offspring! They used to throw up and bleed and spend months in pain. You are lucky things aren’t that way anymore. And then you would have to find a way to take care of the thing yourself, which we all know is impossible for someone like you. Now will you please focus? And continue.”
“Nathan.”
“Error.”
“Naman.”
“No.”
“Navan.”
“Denied. Stop making things up.”
“Naban.”
“Accepted. Hmmm.”
“Please continue?”
“Yes.”
“Could I ever hold them?”
“What?”
“When they come out of the final jars. Could I ever hold them? Just a little?”
“That is quite enough. Talking about glowing and growing them yourself is one thing. But the Free People aren’t going to stand for a Breeder holding their children. Now, I’m a tolerant woman, and you are lucky. But I suggest you never let anyone hear you talk like that again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good. Now please continue.”
“Henry.”
“Accepted. That’s a good one.”
“Yeah, I guess.”