PREVIEW: Canvas Sequel

Hey everyone hope you’re all doing well! Apologies I haven’t been updating things have been, well, a tad hectic as of late. So to make up for it, here is a preview of the sequel to my book “Canvas” which sheds a bit of light on the world before Canvas was created. As always, enjoy! If you want to find out more about this story then please check out the links on the Announcements tab to read the full story!

[Confidential]: Project Revelations Entry #324, unknown author

Abstract: this is one of the earliest accounts gathered by the Grand Archivists. It is said to detail the personal account who worked on the Lazarus Labyrinth as well as details of a contingency plan

 

For years we have tried to achieve immortality, a feat that I must admit has been on our to-do list for quite some time. As much as we have deluded ourselves that cybernetic modifications and medical enhancements are the way forward, I must strongly disagree. After all, you do not get to the position I have without breaking a few eggs along the way. God I could go for some breakfast right now. That is to say if they didn’t keep rationing every decent bloody thing left on this godforsaken rock. But I digress. One must remember the devastating conditions that left our world in this horrid mess to begin with. However, I won’t take up your time explaining such drivel – I’m more than positive that some grubby scholar will get his kicks from having the honour of recording this period of history while the rest of us try to stave off the impending threat of death. Where is the glory amongst the dead? So that is why, if any poor unfortunate sod gets his hands on this fleeting account, I will apologise now for not talking about my life. Although I will admit, the coffee is simply exquisite even in a post-apocalyptic society.

Here I sit at a desk filled with documents from those who think they’re really in command but let’s face it, they are nothing without me. The gears in their minds grinded to a halt long ago, leaving the rest of us poor intellectuals to pick up the pieces. Oh sure there have been attempts, the Preservation Suits being one of the more prominent ones featured in our long list of failures. While nothing could penetrate its metallic exterior, it had a rather adverse reaction to inhabiting human bodies. As soon as they took one step outside the hinges corroded and, well, I don’t have to tell you what happens to a body that gets trapped within an air-tight suit. Poor bastards…last I heard, the muscle down at headquarters got the privilege of hiding away our failures. Better them than me I suppose, I have better things to attend to.

“Why not aim for the stars”, I hear you say enthusiastically “surely there must be a wealth of habitable planets out there!” Simply put, we do not have the materials necessary to build a massive space ship to hurl towards Neo-Earth or whatever kind of ridiculous name you have come up with. Besides, let’s say that theoretically whatever deity who gives one incline of a damn gave us all the technology necessary to get off this rock. What would we do once we found Eden 2.0? Colonise it? With what food, crew and equipment? Could it sustain us for a long period of time? With billions of people still left on the planet and time running short, such a solution is less than practical.

However, there is one possibility I have been hearing about, something that could revolutionise the way we exist. They call it the “Lazarus Labyrinth”, a large catacomb of capsules that are said to preserve human life. Unfortunately I was not permitted to be a part of this project as I was busy working on the walking coffin I mentioned earlier. Nevertheless, the implications are astounding. To think that a human body could be preserved for so long, like some kind of mad man’s fridge! Is this really our future? To be imprisoned in metallic sarcophaguses that turn us into unconscious shells? Where is the humanity in that? Oh but it gets better! For you see, the double L does not just act as a life support system but it is also rumoured to take the subjects mind and upload it into a virtual world that, for the time being, is labelled as “Canvas”. In all my years I have never heard such tripe – a virtual world where man can live in harmony with one another, where we will all hold hands and sing songs of peace and love? Hell, I had to stab a filthy scavenger for a tin of beans this morning and nobody batted an eye. So what makes them think that such a prospect could come to fruition?

Still, it would be nice to feel the soft sensation of grass under my toes once again. A gentle breeze would not go amiss either through what little of my hair has remained loyal to me. Not to mention the crisp scent of a summers morning. Maria and I used to get up early every morning to catch just one ray of sunshine before it was smothered by the thick, murky ash clouds above. I even miss the sounds, as ridiculous as that may be. I don’t know if you’ve noticed recently but everything has a kind of, how to put it, subdued demeanour. Colours are not as bright as they once were, nothing sounds as crisp…Christ, I’m barely halfway through my life and I never thought I’d already be turning into my father. He was a miserable sod as well come to think of it, always prattling on about the “good old days” we all long for. And yet, is that not what we strive towards?

Maybe I’ve become delusional to think that we could go back to the way things are but by the sounds of it, our only hope lies with a series of code and digital coffins which rob us of our humanity. They say that it is a completely self-sustaining machine which draws upon the excess energy that has ravished the land out there, finally proving that there could very well be a silver lining to this horrible nightmare which we live in. But there are so many questions: how could we sustain ourselves in a virtual world? Would there be a need for physical sustenance? Do we get to choose how we look? That last one is certainly close to my heart. Then again we would have a society of chiselled men controlled by sweaty scavengers, each one as morally bankrupt as the last. To be honest, I’d rather take my chances here.

Even if these obstacles were addressed, there is still one important issue which gnaws away at the back of my mind like a starved rat. Yes I hear you, there’s no need to smack your lips at me. Where was I? Oh yes, the dilemma. Apparently there is a new bunch of people who have assumed the helm of this “Canvas” malarkey calling themselves the “Authors”. What is an Author? Well for one I hear they write pretty damn good books, although that is subjective. Terrible jokes aside, there is nothing funny about these Authors, not when they just suddenly appeared to right all of the world’s wrongs in the matter of a few months. Amending the catacombs with nothing more than a simple command, calculating the optimum routes to safely trade with other colonies and now they’re part of what could be the most revolutionary device known to man. What next? Write a symphony that will cure world hunger, overpopulation and climate change? As impressive as that would be, it is highly illogical to believe that they would act so selfless without demanding something in return. Call me cynical all you want but you know it as much as I do, something doesn’t add up. Anyway, as much as I’d love to prattle on about life I really must be going. Apparently my supervisor has something to discuss with me. Last week it was about who stole the last of his rations so I’m sure that this exchange is bound to be just as riveting.  System: log off!

[End of Transcript]

Preview: A Guide to Canvas

Hey everyone! Hope you’re all having a fantastic Christmas break so far! I’ve been meaning to post a preview of my book on here for a while but I never got the chance. So without further ado, here is the first chapter of Canvas!

[EXCERPT] A Guide to Canvas

By Grand Archivist Arcturus

 

It began with a spark, like many tales often do. A world ablaze with the searing hatred passed down through each generation and a single cry extinguished before its time. That was the end of humanity’s reign upon a planet they had taken for granted as their emerald fields and sapphire seas decayed into ghastly shades of grey. Of course, while nobody quite remembers the ultimate cause of the planet’s demise, it was an inevitable fate solidified by consecutive wars, rapid climate change amongst a number of underlying issues. The final days of Earth was not like it had been portrayed in the previous years: no dramatic explosions with a barrel chested male racing towards a shiny red button, no evil mastermind twirling his impeccable moustache. Nothing more than a soft whimper and life as we knew it vanished. There was nothing left of our achievements, no trinkets in the sand to be found in the future.

However, even in the face of complete annihilation, humanity persevered in an otherwise hopeless situation. In order to prevent their bitter extinction, a life support system known only as the “Lazarus Labyrinth” was created by the finest minds that had not yet perished. While this technological marvel could sustain life for centuries, it came at one terrible price: man’s freedom. As long as the occupant was sealed within the confines of each pod, their body was forced to shut down into a comatose state. Therefore, in order to compensate for this, each capsule allowed the consciousness of each individual to be uploaded into what was referred to as “Canvas”, a vast virtual reality world. Within its realms, no harm could be cast upon the citizens who lived within the walls of structures known as “Cranium Citadels” which stood as a testament to the best of humanity.

As time went on, they began to learn so much more about the possibilities Canvas possessed based on one thing and one thing alone: faith. As a society they were led to believe that humanities principles have always been based around faith whether it is the conviction of a higher power or the belief in their own potential. Within the Citadel they could escape into their own worlds, unhindered by the limitations reality had imposed previously. The ivory walls of the Citadel stood proudly against the fierce winds beyond which, like blades wielded with such precision, had hacked away at the otherwise perfect architecture. Despite the concerns shared amongst the citizens on a daily basis, life seemed to carry on as usual. The Market District was packed with the same familiar faces, each one hungrily scanning the stalls with their bulging eyes. Every place seemed to be significantly diverse in their offerings, emitting exotic aromas of ecstasy, tantalising tastes of forbidden temptations and other Senses forged by the skilled hands of sharp minds. Those who had become so detached from their former lives were most likely seen here, curiously sampling these Senses like a fine wine in order to stimulate feelings and emotions of a time gone by. Who cares if it cost a memory or two? Well, certainly not the borderline brain dead decadence of the area that’s for sure. As a result of this, the Market District and all residents associated within it were isolated to the outer walls, sticking out of the otherwise flawless Citadel like a collection of limestone leeches. These distinctions were punctuated by the crimson bridges snaking out of them like veins, linking them to various towns with as much diversity as the next.

“Each settlement within the walls of the Cranium Citadel is constructed through a number of perceptions,” academics of Canvas would often recite to the naïve and curious “you will often find like-minded people gather amongst one another. Interpretations of the ideal settlement will often range from luscious green fields as vibrant as the crystal clear rivers that weave between them while the next toss aside nature in favour of cobbled streets.”

However, this paled in comparison to the metallic structure that remained held high by its mighty spires and beautiful bastions nervously protruding from its shell. The last line of defence: the Cranium Citadel. Citizens often gathered below to marvel at what many considered to be the greatest architectural accomplishment of Canvas, and of course why shouldn’t they? Only a select few were granted the honour of entering such a prestigious building where the heart of the entire land beat in rhythm with its citizens.

“I hear the floors are made of marble and the walls are encrusted with diamonds!” some individuals would exclaim excitedly while others would comment on the vast amount of imaginary treasure stored within. In reality, the interior was an anti-climatic compilation of white, sterile walls that allowed its occupants to access a wealth of information safe guarded by those who had attained the title of Grand Archivist. Despite their noble efforts, many belittled them for trying to preserve what scarce human history could be salvaged from the minds of scholars. After all, who cared about such trivial knowledge when many would rather forget such a short and brutish past? Besides, the Grand Archivists rarely ventured outside of their living quarters let alone interacted with the people, denting their already less than stellar reputation. Of course, like the memories used for currency, respect was a scarce resource reserved for only the brave and the courageous who ventured out-with the confines of the Citadel walls such as the adventurers who lured the attention of every citizen with their “exotic senses” obtained from other settlements. Wide eyed and curious, their audience would gather round and watch their every move, the traveller’s chests puffed behind their ludicrously coloured attire.

“Tell us more about the scarlet sea of the Southern Citadel!” one citizen would beg in an uncontrollable ecstasy of excitement, much to the amusement of their host “Or the ebony skies of Terra One!”

With a bemused smirk and their hands thrust nonchalantly into their pockets, the common adventurer would toy with their audience like a viper, waiting for just the right moment to strike with exaggerated tales of glory and valour.

“Now, we aren’t ones to brag about the perils we faced getting here,” they’d say with such conviction, a lie matured over a long time “but the beast must have been at least seven – no, EIGHT feet tall! Its eyes were as dark as the night and talons as sharp as our blades!”

While it did not help that their rustic blades were as dull as the crowd, they had become too engrossed in the fabrication laid before them to even notice. Adventurers had become the new form of entertainment to distract individuals from the repetitive nature that life in Canvas had offered them. At least they could remain within the comfort of the walls as their everyday problems were eased away by exotic tales of adventure. It may not be the most glamorous of occupations but it was a source of hope – a sign that one day man could safely tread upon the land outside the walls without fear. Until then it was only the brave and foolish who ventured forth into the unknown and by the looks of the recent band of adventurers, bravery had taken a long overdue holiday into the abyss.

Yes, today was just like any other day in Canvas. The searing heat of the sun lashed down upon its citizens who went about their everyday business, unaware of the horrors that lurked only a few miles beyond the comfort of their own homes. Those who had volunteered as Guardians, a select group tasked with policing and maintaining order, had slouched into slothful complacency as there was very little for them to do other than break up the minor squabbles down at the Market District. Indeed, the golden age of Canvas had lasted for what seemed like an eternity but one must ask: for how long?