Flight of Fancy

[AzariahWolf† 0]

This is the beginning of a new story I'm doing. It's the first time I've ever featured an avian character, and I'm actually enjoying it. Enjoy!

 

________________________

 

My name is James Anders. I used to think that I was an insomniac. I would spend hours at night, tossing and turning in my bed. I would fall asleep for a few moments, jerk awake, and look at my alarm clock to realize it had been less than ten minutes. This would go on for days, until exhaustion dropped me into a deep, dreamless sleep. Only recently did I come to understand how mistaken I was about my condition.

 

During the times I dropped off to sleep, I slowly became aware of the fact that I was dreaming. Snippets of the dream would remain in my memory just long enough to verify their existence, but the content of these dreams was invariably lost. At first, I could remember nothing but the fact that I had been dreaming, but I eventually got the distinct impression that these dreams were always the same. This intrigued me, and for months on end I tried everything to try to remember, from dream journals to recording my voice during sleep to try to trigger memories. In the end, it was all to naught, and the pursuit of this dream was almost forgotten, although, like the dreams themselves, the pursuit always remained at the back of my mind.

 

College came, and I suddenly had much less trouble being exhausted before I went to sleep. Nights began to pass comfortably for me, in that I never even had the impression of a dream remaining in my mind. After a school year on a hectic schedule, I went home believing that my mysterious dreams were at an end.

 

In fact, the mystery waited for my first night home before immediately appearing again.

 

My eyes snapped open to the sound of klaxons sounding nearby. I reached for my iPod, only to have my hand nearly missed by the occupant of the top bunk as he vaulted out of his bed.

 

"All flights scramble, we are on high alert!"

 

The voice on the speakers drew my mind back to reality, and I catapulted myself from the bunk inches away from my partner. He was already in his basic jumpsuit, and was buckling on his sidearm when I jumped both legs into my own outfit. It was pretty basic, but with the hulls of the Defender class ships built like they were, any more equipment was just dead weight.

 

I pulled my sidearm from its home in the equipment vault across the hall, and turned to move toward the hangar just as my partner did the same.

 

We matched our paces until we reached the security airlock, where one of the superior officers quickly checked for valid ID. My partner was before me, so he spoke first.

 

"Jason Dawes, gunner," he said, verifying his words with a flick of his jumpsuit's badge.

 

For the first time since I had looked for my mp3 player on waking up, something seemed wrong. I had not known my partner's name until he said it. What was going on?

 

"Sir, identification?"

 

The more concerning issue was that I had to grope for my name.

 

"James..."

 

My eyes snapped open, and I found myself breathing heavily, sweating like I was in an oven. My hands shaking, I groped around my dark room for a light, finally resorted to pulling out my cell phone. With no idea where to find a notebook, and memories of my dream fresh in my mind, I had to do something. I opened a text message, and began to type out briefly what had happened.

 

I stared at the screen once I had finished. I read my own account through several times. The scene had been so vivid, and yet so nebulous. I knew what had happened in the dream, but I could not remember at all what anything had looked like. My mind could reconstruct the entire sequence of events in painstaking detail, but it could not tell me so much as the color of the weapons locker in the hall.

 

My heart rate slowed, until I was finally certain that I had remembered my dream. In a flash of inspiration, I deactivated my iPod's klaxon alarm, and lay back down on my normal, single decker bed.

 

No distractions; I would be ready if the dream came again. I knew it would not be for a while, as my adrenaline was still pumping, but...

 

The klaxons sounded, and I jerked from my bed. No thought of alarms on my mind, I pulled myself from my bunk using the supports of the second bunk. Jason was right behind me, leaping over my head completely from his bed. I barely gave him a second glance. I was more concerned with my own equipment. As I pulled on the green jumpsuit that functioned as my on-duty uniform, I gave it a once over. Just like Jason's, it had a nametag bearing an unfamiliar name and rank. I committed them both to memory as I pulled on the upper section of the suit. As I did, I noticed that the sleeves were secured along their length by weak snap buttons. They were done for the time being, and a quick glance at Jason revealed that he lacked this feature. The chest and legs of my jumpsuit both seemed loose on me, even after I secured the former with the zipper. Whatever the reason for these oddities, it mattered little in light of the scramble order.

 

I retrieved my sidearm and again found myself keeping pace just behind Jason as before. As soon as he had entered the hangar, I was ready.

 

"David Reynolds, senior pilot," I recited the name from the badge.

 

I was motioned forward into the hangar. I found myself moving on instinct, and had soon arrived with my gunner beside the Defender class ship. It was built low to the ground, barely large enough to allow room for a standing person inside, but its appearance was sleek, suggesting a metal bird of prey. Jason entered the gun bay at the front of the craft, and I quickly entered the cockpit from a rear bay door.

 

I tried to fight the sense or wrongness as I stepped in; after all, it had preceded my waking the last time. I could not help but be surprised at the cockpit, however. Rather than a board full of controls I didn't recognize, the cockpit was a room well wide and long enough for me to lay down spread eagle in any direction.

 

Spread eagle...

 

"Computer, initiate launch sequence." The words flowed as though I had said them every day of my life. I began to loosen my muscles for a reason I couldn't remember. Then the computer recognized me.

 

"Commander Reynolds, voice accepted. Applying flight preferences."

 

Several thin beams of light were projected from all sides of the cockpit for a moment, and I found myself standing with my arms spread out and my feet at shoulder's width. The beams moved until they were centered on me on all sides, and then they seemed to bend until I was cocooned in silvery light. The antigravity kicked in then, and I found myself suspended a few inches from the ground. I was suddenly rotated face down, and them brought to about the middle of the room's height.

 

"Setting pilot configuration Alpha-9."

 

I suddenly remembered why my suit was different.

 

With only the computer's announcement as warning, I began to feel m body changing within my uniform. First, it began to feel warmer. Discipline kept me from breaking my stance to gawk, but somehow I had memories that told me that a thin coat of downy feathers was beginning to grow on my skin, causing a feeling not unlike goose bumps. I admitted it to myself now; this was a dream. Still, I did not wake up, and found he changes spreading rapidly as I lay there suspended in midair.

 

My waking mind regarded all that happened with disbelieving wonder, but my memory of the dream world, hidden before in the fog of a sleep-starved mind, assured me that this was not the first time this had happened. This was how all the craft on this Carrier vessel worked. What better way to have pilots become more effective than by giving them a form used to flight, and using a motion capture chamber to project their movements onto their ship?

 

My rational mind calmed down as I realized that this was nothing out of the ordinary for my dream self. Meanwhile, the feathers had covered everything but my arms and legs, and I could feel them becoming harder, taking on a different texture and changing hue to a faded, yellowish orange. Both looked like bird talons, a fact that seems odd to me at first. I had never seen a bird with hands. My dream memories again reassured me; this form was a hybrid, and as such had both hands and wings. Wings... I couldn't wait to try those out.

 

Longer feathers had begun to grow in, forming a lair over the softer, downy feathers that had grown originally. At the same time, I could feel my anatomy beginning to change. Joints creaked and popped, and muscles moved and reformed as my body became more airworthy. While I could not feel the effect in zero gravity, my memories assured me that my body was becoming much lighter, bones developing air pockets and body slimming so that I could fly without the aid of additional equipment.

 

I wish I could see myself, but found I had memories of similar changes that I had watched, and I tried to remember what each feeling meant as it happened. By now, my underbelly had been covered in soft, tan feathers. On my chest, which had begun to fill the suit as it changed, there were several black feathers, forming a pattern that stood in contrast to its background. On my back, red-brown feathers had sprouted. As I thought through these memories, I sudden felt some discomfort behind me, until a long, beautiful tail grew behind me, finding the hole built specifically for that purpose without issue. In lieu of the ability to see myself, I thought until I located the muscles in charge of controlling the tail feathers and began to maneuver them around, marveling at how different it felt. Different, but amazing.

 

By now, my body had been almost full altered. Feathers covered everything except my arms and legs, and they had altered, losing fingers a toes while maneuvering the remaining ones into new positions and lengthening them into talons. A curious thought occurred to me; I could now grasp items in both my hands and my feet.

 

My face began to change. First, in between blinks, I could see that my eyes had changed. The darkness around me suddenly seemed much less dense, and I could see the silvery lines around me in startling clarity. As I looked at this, a sudden ache overtook the whole of my face. I worked my jaw for a moment, and felt it changing drastically. I was moving differently somehow; my beak was growing in, I realized. It felt backwards at first; my mouth was now in front of my face. Still, memories came to me, and as my beak finalized I found that I was comfortable moving it about. With a hooked, black beak in place of articulate lips, I was worried that I might not be able to express myself as much. I tried a few expressions, and found to my surprise that I could express myself just as well with a beak as with a mouth. The expressions looked completely different, but they communicated the same feelings.

 

Thinking through the change, I realized that I was almost done changing. Only one thing remained, and I flexed my arms in anticipation. My wings wasted no time growing in; they grew out, first connected to my arms, but extending away from my arm in an impressive wingspan. My sleeves could not contain them; the snap-away buttons were all released in a moment. I experimentally spread my wings to their full lengths. Because they were attached until my elbows, both arms and wings had some degree of independent movement, which would be helpful if I ever wanted to use one without interference from the other. Overall, the change had taken only a few seconds, but unfamiliarity made it seem like several minutes.

 

I was ready now, physically that is. Mentally, I was still freaking out. I had just changed into a hawk-man of some sort! It wasn't exactly something I did every day at college. In this dream world, however, I apparently did this as part of my job as a pilot.

 

Suddenly, a display panel started up directly on front of me. I found that turning my neck so I could look straight forward was now natural. I also found out that I knew exactly what all the displays were trying to communicate.

 

"You set?" Jason asked. His face was displayed to the right and below the main view panel. His normal, human face.

 

I nodded, then spoke to the computer. "Initiate takeoff sequence." There was a bit of what could best be described as an accent added to my voice, but it was still quite intelligible. I could hear the engines roar to life, and the ship lifted from the ground. With little more than an adjustment of my wings in my suspended state, I spun the ship to face the open airlock doors. I settled myself a moment, then set off towards the vast arena of space beyond. I could already see the periodic flashes that signified a space battle, and I would be in that fray before too long.

 

The flight was amazing. Our enemies, using crude spacecraft a century old, fought to maneuver around floating debris, and were useless against precisely aimed laser fire. I guided the ship expertly through the battle, setting up shots for Jason and avoiding enemy fire with ease. All it took was a turn of the wing, and we glided through the maze of debris without once taking a hit.

 

We were one of the last to reenter the hangar. My change from my half-hawk form to human was equally as enthralling as the experience had been in reverse. I was still snapping the buttons back into place for my sleeves as I exited the ship. Jason patted me on the back as we left.

 

"Good flying out there. I thought you might be rusty after a few empty months, but you flew as well as ever."

 

"Well, you know. Flying is natural in that form. Once you've done it for a while, the skills just never leave you." It was true, though I only had my dream memories to go by. The memories told me something else, though, something that I wanted to try.

 

"Say, I don't think I'll be getting back to sleep after this," I commented "We've got a few hours before our regular duties start. Want to join me for a spin in the flight chamber?"

 

"Why not? Maybe I'll learn some of your tricks; can't help my case for pilot at all."

 

I walked to the chamber as though I had done it every day of the voyage. If my memories of the dream were correct, that was very nearly correct. In fact, it seemed that I spent much of my time off duty in that chamber. After my experience in the Defender, I had no question as to why.

 

"I want to try one I found three days ago." We had arrived at the door to the chamber on our deck, and I tapped out a combination of characters on the keypad by the door. Once I finished typing my password in, the door opened, and revealed row upon row of simulation spheres. In these spheres, various people, some in hybrid form, and some even in full form, lay suspended in the same antigravity matrix that was used in the cockpit of my Defender.

 

I found a couple free spheres adjacent to each other, and quickly used the computer to synchronize them so that I would share the same simulation with Jason.

 

The two of us stepped into our spheres, and the antigrav matrix initialized immediately. I felt the wave of feathers beginning again, and it was not long before I had resumed my hawk form. Beside me, dressed in his own flight suit, Jason's form changed as well, until he had become a bald eagle.

 

The simulation began as soon as we were both changed. At first, it was an obvious projection. After a few moments, however, we were fully immersed in a new world. We stood together on a green plain, looking about at rolling hills and green forests, and feeling simulated gusts of warm air ruffling our feathers. I pointed at the top of a nearby mountain.

 

"The view is best from right up there," I said. "Not to mention, it gives us both a chance to spread our wings."

 

The flight I had charted was by no means a short one, but neither of us cared. We loved catching the currents of air in our wings, gliding effortlessly through the air high above the earth, and watching the world go by beneath us.

 

Once we arrived, I was completely taken aback. My recommendation of the view was merited completely. The view we had seen from the ground was completely dwarfed by the magnitude of beauty we saw from here. Even the thought that I wasn't really there could not spoil it for me. After all, we were looking at a real spot on Earth. We might not really be there, but we would be able to see the same view once our voyage had ended.

 

I knew the place was real, because I had been there in my waking life once, on a rock climbing venture with some fraternity guys. The view I saw then was not even comparable. As a hawk, my eyes were several orders of magnitude better than my human eyes. I could see the details of the landscape in impeccable detail. I could very nearly discern individual blades of grass hundreds of feet below me, and was able to track the movement of several creatures that also occupied the slopes.

 

"When we get back to Earth, I think I'll apply for a long-term change. There are so many places I actually want to be able to see like this," I admitted, nearly breathless from the view.

 

"I'm not sure I'd take it that far, but this is a view I would not mind seeing for real." Jason's gaze took in every detail, and his beak was cracked in an avian smile. "If I ever did go on a flying vacation, though, I would want you as my travel guide. You have impeccable taste in great views."

 

We spent almost an hour just taking in the sights, and spent our remaining time before active duty soaring lazily through the air. I had thought that my earlier comment about wanting to keep the form longer had been exclusively from my dream self, but I found myself agreeing more and more with the sentiment. If it was ever possible to take on such a form in my waking reality, I would be sorely tempted.

 

I woke, startled not from any occurrence in my dream, but from the fact that I had woken without warning, right in the middle of my flight. I looked at my clock; it was well past noon, thanks to me deactivating my alarm. I wouldn't call the day wasted, though. The vivid beauty and excitement of the dream stayed with me when I woke, and I longed to experience more. I found a notebook and set my pen down to write out what I had seen. Words seemed so worthless to describe the experience. Still, I could not risk losing the memory, especially if I was unable to return.

 

My story written, I went about my day. On my mind a question nagged; would I be returning to that strange world in my dreams? It was a question that would have to wait for the night. For now, I went about my life, unable to shake the daydreams of flight, andhoping I would live that vivid dream again.

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

I really enjoy reading this so far, keep it up, oh and if you need help with anything aviation related such as, altitude compensation with regards to fuel consumption, I'm a certified aircraft mechanic so ask away

[AzariahWolf† 0]

I've heard of the adverb rule, and I will say I don't give a **** about that stupid rule. This story is told in first person, and so I tell it like someone is talking. I'm not going to remove the adverbs in my story, just because some person whose nose trends upwards at the slightest mention of my style says so (this is referring to whoever decided they had the right to make writing rules for others, not you). Adverbs sound like I'm speaking to the reader naturally, which is exactly what I'm going for in first person. I wouldn't waste time trimming out adverbs if I was narrating, so I won't do it here.

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

I agree, the adverb is something you can play around with and not be too problematic especially in first person. Its more of a third person concept if you wanted to go in that direction. However when describing the actions of others while in first person, it will make a difference on the adverb so probably best to follow the rule a little more closely, but when starting out a story who could give a damn about the grammer, that can all be edited later on once you get the story rolling. IF YOU HAD EVER WRITTEN ANY STORY IN YOUR LIFE! Then you know that concentrating heavily on grammar at the start never helps, some times I go through 15 pages before I check and reread to make grammar changes, and even then, that's allot of work! So if someone tries to point out grammar mistakes in a first write up especially when they just wrote it, (and after reading through and have the compassion to know what the reader meant especially if your a fellow author and know the hardships in writing) you can tell them to jump in a lake.

[AzariahWolf† 0]

To clarify, foxbunny, I have nothing against critique. I just do not recognize the adverb rule as a valid critique. As for the rest of what you said, I would mind having it around for future reference.

[AzariahWolf† 0]

I have enough people telling me about it that it may as well be a rule. People keep on telling me about it, so I just keep on telling them that I'm tired of hearing it. I have only run a typo check on this so far. If I ever want to go somewhere more with this, and I might, I'll work on adverbs. At this point, I'm much more concerned about passive verbs, being verbs, and other trash. As much as anything else, that's one in the morning for you. I appreciate that, because it's trashy. Adverbs aren't precise, true, but at this point that's the idea.

 

Note after his first dream, he realizes that he can't remember details of the world. He can tell you what happened, but he can't describe it because he doesn't remember how it was. The next time through, he had a much better idea, mostly because he's looking for details. Going on with the story, he gets more and more detailed in his surroundings. That's what I mean by style.

 

As for who he is, what his room looks like, and whatever this is about school and whatever, it is currently inconsequential. Depending on which way I decide to go with this, they may become important; they will be dealt with appropriately then.

 

Thanks for the concern; I do want to get something published eventually, but paying attention to adverb killing kills momentum as well. I'll take care of adverbs during the editing stage.

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

I agree with you foxbunny about the ways an adverb can build a voice, and Huck Finn is a good example of this. Yet Azariah is still generating the plot and momentum of the story, so it makes sense to give it time when it comes to grammar, and instead give advice on how he can develop the characters, which I like how they are introduced. I'm currently working on some of my own characters for my other writing, and after building up the main character so well its hard to do the same with new characters without using first person to describe them in their own minds. Instead I have to be stuck in the mind of the main character and how he perceives them. It builds up the main character really well, but leaves the others surrounded in mists of uncertainty for the reader to configure, but its difficult to write if you already know all about that other character. I recommend only this, try not to know the other characters and let the story build them with plot. This way you can describe their character through actions, and build personality through dialogue, without it all being done at the start, and also gives you a reason to write about them rather then blankly know what they will do without writing it down in small ways. Remember the other characters are needed to grow the story, you cant last long with only one.

[riddle kat† 0]

yeah i kind of got confused but i still like it overall!

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

I'll add four things:

1. Everyone is telling you the same thing. Maybe there's a reason. That was one of the first pieces of advice I received. It's like in music. If someone were to try to write songs the way The Beatles wrote' date=' it wouldn't work. The songs would sound somewhat silly and formulaic. They wrote the way they did because they didn't know any better. The songs came out as honest rather than trite. You can go back and read authors (sci-fi authors specifically) who threw adverbs all over their writing, and it worked. It worked because that was an easy way to write and flowed well. These early books were considered to be of little literary value. Even today, most of the books are preserved because of what the authors became.

 

2. Good habits seem like a drag when you're learning them, but they help you in the long run. Do it now or do it later. When I cook I wash up as I go. It's a good habit. My wife leaves everything there and bemoans the stack of filthy pots and bowls crowding the sink. When I'm done cooking, it's time to enjoy a hot meal. When she's done, it's time to wash some dishes. It's just word choices. There's one paragraph where you use "completely" 3 times in as many sentences. It's worthwhile to step back and look at it and ask if you're using the right word if you are using words so often. The adverbs that you use are used correctly, so it's not a grammar problem. It's a word choice issue.

 

3. Revise, edit, proofread. These are good, but remember prewriting. If you know what is going to happen in your story you can concentrate on your style and your word choices.

 

4. Here's an interesting thing that we didn't discuss before--audience. When you write, "As for who he is, what his room looks like, and whatever this is about school and whatever, it is currently inconsequential", you forget your audience. I am disconnected from the story because I don't care about this guy because he doesn't care about himself and he's floating in some semi-reality where he can't find a light switch in his own bedroom. James could take a bullet and I don't know that it would change my feelings toward him. The problem is that I want to like him, I know he's the protagonist, I know these are his recollections, but there's just nothing there to like (or dislike) about him.

[/quote']

 

I kind of agree with number four, the audience is important, but then you have to remember that you cannot satisfy everybody. There will be people who just don't like or care to read, and then there are people who want to find a certain subject to read. It does pertain to the audience, but don't stress yourself out if one person cannot connect with your character. Now if you got a character who was always picky about things and was a perfectionist I think Foxbunny would connect with him... as for me I like a daring character who is not afraid to take a bullet to fight for his life. Your character can somewhat connect to my tastes, but he lacks fear, I'm not seeing it, every time someone goes into a battle fear is important because it describes emotion. You may think you have clarified it, but all I'm reading is body emotions, not his mental ones. Instead its like he is amazed with everything, let him get hurt in the dream and that will give us a little reality, and also wake him up out of his fantasy. That would get my full attention and an eagerness to know what he would do next.

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

I'm a reader' date=' so I connect with characters who are complex and grounded in their reality. Two realities are presented, but only one has any detail, and its not the reality that.most resembles ours.

The contract with the reader goes beyond genre to expectations that transcend the subject matter. There are certain expectations that.come with sci-fi or fantasy, etc, but character should be established quickly. The only thing that this character has are dreams and a name. Unless its going into some gimmick, like the dream being reality. If that's the case, all the cards are down because that's how it reads.

[/quote']

 

I agree, however I write allot of fantasy with high detail even if it isn't of our reality(which gives me some of a reason to be interested in the character, but not my full attention). Its true that you try to formulate a connection with the reader by introducing a reality they can connect with as well as a believable character.

 

The beginning is also the best way to do this, however I try the shock and awe approach that gives the reader something to look forward to and amaze, Kind of like, "Sally was eating crackers and cheese when an eagle smashed through her kitchen window." Totally random but demands an explanation such as, "Who is sally and why did the Eagle smash through her window? Of course I go for a more extreme approach by telling it through the eyes of a victim in peril this way I can introduce their personality with something that everyone is familiar with, fear and confusion... you don't know what is going to happen and neither does the main character. Then I build upon that with thoughts or how the character describes his events.

 

Dialogue can also do this, but its very challenging at the start because its too much demand for an explanation and not enough room to put it in before the reader looses interest in before you can pull it off. The best example of a book that pulls this off would be Jurassic Park. Yes there was a book before the movie, it grips your attention from the very start and keeps you interested, even if you already saw the movie (because its in its own story and doesn't follow the plot that the movie followed)

 

In Flight of Fancy the character tries to connect with us by going over years of detail in small sentences describing his trouble of sleep and dreams, If I had a go at this character I would start with a dream first and then wake him up so the reader understands that it was a dream rather than explain it through two pages of information that we can derive for ourselves once the dream happens. Also the fact that the character is trying to record these events implies repetition, its not like a movie where the audience needs to view it again, we can turn the page if we wanted to double check, sorry if I'm being crude about that. If it was meant to show the characters urge to remember, then try having him instead try to reinvent the dream in his own way as he goes back to sleep, before he suddenly realizes that he is dreaming.

 

Or you could go the alternative method of making the dream a nightmare and having the character running for his life. But then he wakes up under his bed and tries not to fall back to sleep describing the fear of what might happen. This also helps describe his character. A great movie of that would be "Little Nemo" not the movie about the fish.

 

 

skip to two minutes and 45 sec to get past initial credits

 

As far as how the detail goes for the character in his dreams I give it a 5 star rating. Its perfectly described, all though in some areas, a little excessive but when trying to describe the way you turn into something that flies compared to my bio transfer I can understand why it was needed. However the plot seems like a jam-bit with many different experiences thrown together. I was hoping that future writing would involve a more concrete dream at which the character fails to wake up and realizes that when he went to sleep his life traveled to an alternate dimension causing the character to realize that he could die in this so called dream. This thereby enforces the reality of the dream making us want to know why or how it happened.

 

In Little Nemo this is enforced when the dream becomes more concrete (giving birth to new reality) as the characters of the dream world interact with the main character as normal people do but have such an amazing world that they bring them to giving us an urge to see more. Little Nemo also had an amazing plot about the nightmare King, an all powerful demon that tries to destroy Nemo and all of Slumberland.

 

I hoped this helps out, or if you want to stick to the original way you wrote it, that's fine too. Every writer has their own way of writing and yours doesn't have to change just to appease me or foxbunny. I'm just suggesting other ways to experiment.

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

Any more writing to read on this story?

[AzariahWolf† 0]

I;ll be continuing this story eventually. Right now, I'm trying to finish a longer story prior to Anthrocon. I might write some more of this this afternoon; we'll see.

[AzariahWolf† 0]

Prat 2! Finally...

 

_____________________

 

It was not long until I was able to return to that dream world. That evening, I found myself once again immersed in that same dreamworld. Rather than having a dream that followed a similar pattern, or even repeated as my dreams had done before, it was as though I had never left. When I entered the dream, I was just about to climb out of the flight simulator with Jason in tow.

 

The antigravity devices deactivated just as the simulation ended, and we were both left standing in our changed forms for a few moments before we began to revert. The change seemed faster now; I was used to it; it flowed, and I let it.

 

We both finished about the same time. I readjusted my suit to fit my human form better, while Jason switched back to his gunner's uniform. I didn't know why he didn't always wear it; it didn't seem like we were short of the suits, and we might sometime need extra pilots in an emergency. Still, I accepted it without hesitation. I was afraid that questioning the logic of the dream would just make me wake up.

 

As we entered the hall, I noticed that the ship I now occupied seemed to have become even more vivid. The walls, for one, had never been noteworthy at all. Asked to describe them in real life, I would likely had ventured to guess that they were made of some sort of metal. Really, I would honesty have to admit that I didn't know. Now, I saw that they were actually paneled along their full lengths with something more resembling concrete, but with a distinctly different feel to them than any wall I had ever felt. They were primarily white, but stripes of various colors showed the way to various locations, aiding navigation without necessitating expensive equipment. Memories from my dream self told me that these stripes would be lit on the event of an emergency, while their labels would remain dark and visible against the background.

 

I noticed that Jason was watching me as I ran a hand along the wall, and so nonchalantly dropped my hand as we rounded a corner. Following instinct, I followed the stripe leading to the training deck lifts. About halfway, Jason broke off and went left where I went straight. We exchanged farewells, and I was left to head to my duties.

 

I spent the rest of the journey running through my mind and trying to remember all I could about n duties. All the while, I exchanged greetings with people I had never met, but was nevertheless able to remember perfectly. Finally, when I reached the lift, the details of my duties came back to me, and I found myself smiling at the prospect. I was going to the training deck to supervise new pilots as they tested their wings.

 

"Welcome to the training deck, Commander Reynolds," the computer announced as I entered the chamber. Several of the recruits were already present, and they quickly stood and saluted as they heard the announcement. The guards at the door performed their own stiff salutes, and I stopped before giving them leave to be at ease.

 

"I don't recall ordering statues at the door, soldier. At ease."

 

As the entire room relaxed, I smiled despite myself. I could get used to this.

 

The training deck was divided into sections. My own charges were located in a chamber two doors away, through two nearly silent automatic doors. The strange, white walls were replaced by a material that disappeared into the background under the deck's low lighting. The floor was metal, although all sound of movement was muted masterfully. In every room, several rows of simulation spheres were arranged, each hooked into the same, synchronized simulation.

 

I was a few minutes early, so I kept myself busy for a few moments by looking logging into the room's main computer terminal and looking up some data. I wanted to make sure that my memories of this duty were complete. I didn't want to disrupt the dream by teaching something I had already covered, after all.

 

As it turned out, my memories again proved to be startlingly correct. It was as if I had been living through a reality in my dreams at the same time that I had been doing the same while awake. It was an interesting idea, and one that I filed away for further consideration. Perhaps I had been having these dreams all the time, and I just now remembered them. The only reason I doubted this was because I thought they has always been the same before.

 

Checking the clock on the computer terminal, I realized that I only had a few more moments until I was supposed to begin my lesson. Calmly, I closed the terminal and turned to face the class. A dozen cadets stood at attention in front of me already. Seeing no reason to delay, I launched into an impromptu lesson that sounded as well rehearsed as though I had practiced to a mirror twenty times the night before.

 

"Welcome back, gentlemen. We've got a lot to do today. I want you all to get into your simulators and initiate the sequence. Further instructions will be given once you're in."

 

Well, perhaps only two or three times. It wasn't that hard; once they were in the simulation I would continue to give them basic instructions, and otherwise just had to adlib when something important or unexpected happened.

 

Because of the nature of our starcraft, the students I was currently teaching were instructed first regarding unassisted flight in the hybrid forms. Flying would come naturally for them, so we could focus on maneuvers, formations, and other, more difficult aspects of military flight. Once we had them comfortable on their wings and familiar with their training squadron, we would move the simulation up to give them a taste of the differences in technique piloting a ship would require.

 

My classes followed a pattern similar to a workday on Earth; days on duty were kept to a twenty-four hour pattern for the sake of the crew, and I would work from eight to ten of those hours training new pilots of various skill levels in the simulators.

 

My first class of the day already possessed most of the basic skills. I was tasked with familiarizing them with formations; actually, we had been dealing with it for several weeks. Each formation took far less time than it would have when teaching regular pilots, but the added maneuverability of the flight units had filled the book of tricks with a number of other formations and procedures.

 

We worked the rest of the class period of three or four specific formations, learning how to safely assume them, clarifying how the chain of command functioned within the formations, and explaining how to react if a certain member of the formation was eliminated. The group reacted well most of the time; still, I threw them a curveball every now and then, just to make sure that they weren't just lucky.

 

Throughout, I marveled at how naturally everything came to me. It was becoming easier and easier for me to remember how this dream world worked; at the same time, the novelty of everything that I did was still vividly felt. I never once felt like it was normal, and that was comforting in a way. I didn't want to be dragged into the dream in a way that would rob me of my waking life, even if this new life had its wonders.

 

The rest of my day of teaching passed in a blur, to the point that I was unsure if I had actually passed through it, or if perhaps the dream had skipped forward without my realizing it. One way or the other, I found myself on the exit lift, heading back to main living deck for pilots.

 

Jason was waiting for me when I arrived on the deck. He asked me a few questions about my day, and I gave him a few vague answers. He seemed satisfied enough, and proceeded to tell me a little bit about his day. He didn't have enough experience to take his own class; in fact, he was still working in an advanced piloting course, and that had taken up a small part of his day. The rest was used putting his weapons skills to use by running maintenance on the main ship's guns.

 

We had dinner together, the details of which seemed to fade much like my classes had. I assumed that meant that I couldn't dream up anything interesting for that half hour of time, so I subconsciously switched gears. When next I noticed, we were in the hallway, discussing what to do with what little free time we had.

 

"I can think of several things we could do. There's the weight room; we need to stay in shape, after all..." I gave him a look, and he caught the drift quickly. "Of course, we get plenty of exercise in a regular day anyway. We could go to one of the game rooms, shoot some pool..."

 

"I stink at pool."

 

"All the more reason to play you," he quipped, grinning. "But I can see I'm getting nowhere there. The other option was going for another spin in the flight simulator."

 

I suppose the grin on my face was plenty enough answer for him.

 

"The simulator it is!" he said almost in mock celebration. And so we set off down the hall, making for the simulator. It was a longer walk from the dining area, so it was a relief when I found myself right beside the simulator a moment after our decision. I looked over at Jason, expecting him to be walking along beside me as calmly as ever, only to find him looking around as though he were somewhat confused.

 

Something didn't click. Had he noticed the sudden jump? Why? There was no reason for anyone else to react to what had happened. They were all part of m dream, weren't they?

 

Jason noticed me staring at him, and finally started walking again, muttering some sort of an apology. I followed him closely, trying to sort things out in my mind.

 

We were soon standing just outside another pair of simulation spheres, preparing to enter. Jason still seemed a bit confused, and that just made me even more uneasy. Finally, I couldn't keep from doing something anymore. I had to find out what was going on, and I had one idea of how to do it.

 

"Jason?"

 

He looked at me, pausing in his preparation for a moment. "Yes, you need something?"

 

"What's your name?"

 

He looked at me like I was crazy. Since I had just addressed him, it wasn't hard to see why he would react that way. "My name is Jason, and you know that quite well."

 

"No; I meant what is your waking name."

 

His quizzical look was quickly replaced by an expression of shock and surprise. I crossed my fingers; hopefully this meant that I had been right.

 

"My name is Jared," he responded. "This... This is your dream too?"

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

yay you posted part two, wish I had time to read but really tired ill take a look more closely tomorrow

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

I really enjoyed reading this, it was very unique, However it does have some dry spots and its what I call "Jumping over the audience's expectation" Its when you explain your whole day without much depth, you did this alot when you were training the students, and you had me hooked from when you were trying to navigate the ship, but as soon as you treated the students as objects of plot rather than actual characters I lost interest, but being a writer myself I continued through it till you spoke with Jason again, which brought me back with more interest. You must be considerate and avoid "Jumping over the audience's expectation." Instead of telling us what happened, bring us into that moment, you may find that is a simpler way to tell us the story rather then think up random activities and your short inserts of personal thoughts. You need to keep the flow like when you were talking about the ships walls. How the lines flickered in such detail that I could actually picture it in my mind. When you got to the students, I felt like I was reading a journal rather then actually living the experience in my mind. Personal description or expressing third person body language and dialogue with scenic description is the best way to keep the reader engaged. Never try to take the easy route of writing journalistically instead tell the story with every walking breath, cause that is what I feel the reader best develops interest. Nice work on the story cant wait to read more

[Galantine Knight Misticore† 0]

Was I too harsh in my criticism?