Much to Annie’s disappointment, she wasn’t allowed to follow Jonathan into the shower area. Not from any lack of trying, but her uncle was quite insistent. Natural carnal thoughts of Anastasia did bring a small rise out of Snyder, but he dismissed them before any mention of shamelessness crept in. They were both adults, but the spunky albino was almost a decade his junior. Jonathan was steadily reaching his middle aged years, and Annie was still too much like a girl to him. Sure she could run laps around him intelligence wise, but the arrogance and willingness to embarrass oneself that comes with youth still hadn’t faded from her personality. Jonathan did rather like her, which was a rarity among any gender of people, but he was much too old and much too busy to rob the proverbial cradle.
Thoughts of Anastasia kept circling Snyder’s brain as he washed himself regardless of how many times he tried to push them out. Bathing only really required muscle memory, and that left the vast majority of his psyche free to engage in whatever came to mind. Unfortunately his unsatisfied male urges kept himself mentality on the attractive young woman who seemed quite enamored with him. The warm recycled water echoing through the large shower area was the only distraction from such feelings, and it wasn’t a very successful distraction at that.
Based on some good advice from a fellow struggling author, Kenneth W. Barber, I’m going to start doing a weekly update to my blog. Mostly just plain sounding updates to how my work is coming along, nothing world changing or any nonsense like that. I met Kenneth a few months ago in his attempt to gather together a writing group for the purpose of sharing ideas and our work. It’s been difficult to get others to commit to the group, but we’ll keep trying. As far as my work goes, I’m about a third of the way into writing Chapter 4 of the Variant War. I had to push through two cases of writer’s block, but I finally finished Ch. 4 to the first page break. I’m also planning on re-editing chapters 1 through 3 in order to make some small changes. Some for grammar reasons, but some will be for plot reasons. I now have a firmer idea of the overall plot and it will require some edits on my earlier drafts. I hope these weekly updates will improve my readership, and I look forward to sharing my writing with you.
Jonathan Snyder awoke to Dr. Meyer looking over him, shining a small light into his pupil. The light made it hard to tell for certain, but it was easy for Jonathan to conclude that he was in one of the medical room gurneys. He must have passed out during retrieval. Again.
“I’m back among the living doctor,” Jonathan said. Snyder tried to lift himself up from the medical bed, but Meyer used her leverage to keep him pinned down.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” the German doctor asserted. She pressed harder against Jonathan as she examined him. The awkwardness of her medium sized breasts pressing into his arm went by as a necessity until the doctor had finished with what she was doing.
“You’re not taking your Ororoprin,” Meyer continued, backing away from Snyder.
Jonathan was then able to sit up in the bed and quickly noticed he was shirtless. Snyder was a well built man due to his physically demanding work, but his introverted nature caused him to be very self conscious about his appearance. Not for the sake of others, but rather because he was his own worst critic. Jonathan was always giving himself tough advice about every detail of his life. The fact Emily was a doctor allowed him to brush any embarrassment to the side, but he made doubly sure the woman didn’t also steal his pants while he was unconscious.
Thankfully they were still fastened to his waist.
The only thing that makes war terrible is the lost of human life. The property destroyed can be repaired, the money spent can be replenished, and even the fields and forests can be developed again given enough time and technology. But the neatly stacked bodies that have culminated over the course of human history is the one factor that makes war the unholiest of mortal sins. One might even declare war a perfectly rational action without coming off as emotionally dead if it wasn’t for the seemingly endless row of funeral pyres the massacres leave in their wake.
It was such funerals that General Ellison often worried about. Not a funeral for Beckman of course, no one genuinely cared about that scoundrel, but the General was more concerned about the conflict that was to come. Both sides are putting all of their weight onto their heels, preparing to lunge at each other. It was only a matter of time before the fight started. Even if the General didn’t lose a single solider during a conflict, he would still erase untold amount of lives by destroying the Variants. Ellison has argued with himself in the past over the fact that Variants were never meant to exist in the first place, but such an excuse doesn’t cover up the fact that they are alive now and it will be the General’s job to kill them.
“Nothing ever ends Jonathan,” said Beckman, finally uttering something to break the silence. “Until it does.”
Beckman then gave a nervous smile and wiped a pint of sweat from his forehead. His overgrown blonde hair had to be brushed back but quickly returned to cover the left side of his face. Most of the right side of Beckman’s hair had been cut short and dyed red in an effort to blend in with the eccentric lifestyles of the area. Not that Beckman had to try too hard, for he was quite eccentric himself.
Jonathan Snyder didn’t say anything to Beckman’s comment. Not that Beckman expected a verbal reply. Jonathan didn’t speak much.
“So,” Beckman spoke again. “How did you find me?”
“Seven years,” Amanda muttered.
“What?” I asked as I started see the ocean come over the horizon.
“That’s how long I’ve known Bradley,” she answered. “Seven years.”
“I’m sorry.” I tried to console her, but was difficult to do as my attention was going in two different directions.
“You should have seen him when he first came to the royal court,” she giggled through her sorrow. “He was this nervous little man who hurried about like a mouse with the lights suddenly turned on. He never looked anyone in the eye, and you could actually feel his sphincter muscle tighten when you talked to him.”
“Don’t you have servants that can do this?” I asked Amanda as she cleaned my wound. After the fight broke out between F’ell and me, we retreated back to the American section of the tower. While Bradley went off to talk with the other member of the delegation, I found myself once again in Amanda’s room with my shirt off.
“Actually, first-aid is a principled course in American education,” Amanda said, seeming mildly happy to be nursing my wound. “So technically, anyone can do this.”