My Jeopardy Categories:
1. Star Wars Dialogue
2. Mysteries of the Universe
3. ‘What if?’ Conversations
4. Stress Causing Situations
5. Wikipedia
6. Workings of the Human Mind
7. Call of Duty 4 Score Boards
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
My Blogging Experience
My Blogging Experience
Technology and I have a very odd relationship. I have always taken a strong interest in technology, but oddly enough, I find that I am rarely a user. Sure I search the internet and sure I use Microsoft Word to type papers, but aside from that, I have always liked to do things manually. When I learned that this class was going to center around the utilization of technology to create compositions, I have to admit that I was less than enthusiastic. This changed, however, with my introduction to the blog. Previous to this class, I had a Facebook, because everyone had one. To me, it was pretty dull, and I wanted something more. I wanted somewhere, where I could just write. Sure a Facebook allows you to send messages, but I wanted a place where I could post complex ideas and a few of my short stories that I have been working on over the past year. I wanted a place where I could post my writing so that others could provide criticism. As I learned from my COMP 106 class, a blog was the perfect place to do so. I have been absolutely ecstatic about my blogging page and I plan to continue writing to my blog even after this semester has ended.
If I could go back and revise one of my previous assignments, I would definitely change my podcast script. It wasn’t that the script was poorly written, but it varied very little from that of my Module III essay. Given the chance to go back, I would have tried to reword most of the paper so that it would have flowed better as a podcast.
Overall, I think that this class has been a much better experience for me than I had initially thought. My writing style has definitely improved, and I think that I have learned to better express my thoughts and opinions. In addition, I have learned to better utilize computer technology to present these opinions. I believe that the blog played a large role in this development, because it forced me to use technology more than I was accustomed to. I plan to continue posting to this blog, even after the semester has ended, and I hope that most of you do the same.
Technology and I have a very odd relationship. I have always taken a strong interest in technology, but oddly enough, I find that I am rarely a user. Sure I search the internet and sure I use Microsoft Word to type papers, but aside from that, I have always liked to do things manually. When I learned that this class was going to center around the utilization of technology to create compositions, I have to admit that I was less than enthusiastic. This changed, however, with my introduction to the blog. Previous to this class, I had a Facebook, because everyone had one. To me, it was pretty dull, and I wanted something more. I wanted somewhere, where I could just write. Sure a Facebook allows you to send messages, but I wanted a place where I could post complex ideas and a few of my short stories that I have been working on over the past year. I wanted a place where I could post my writing so that others could provide criticism. As I learned from my COMP 106 class, a blog was the perfect place to do so. I have been absolutely ecstatic about my blogging page and I plan to continue writing to my blog even after this semester has ended.
If I could go back and revise one of my previous assignments, I would definitely change my podcast script. It wasn’t that the script was poorly written, but it varied very little from that of my Module III essay. Given the chance to go back, I would have tried to reword most of the paper so that it would have flowed better as a podcast.
Overall, I think that this class has been a much better experience for me than I had initially thought. My writing style has definitely improved, and I think that I have learned to better express my thoughts and opinions. In addition, I have learned to better utilize computer technology to present these opinions. I believe that the blog played a large role in this development, because it forced me to use technology more than I was accustomed to. I plan to continue posting to this blog, even after the semester has ended, and I hope that most of you do the same.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Extra Credit: Short Story: White Rat
Ian E. Gonzalez
12/07/08
COMP 106
Prof. Yerks
White Rat
I am suddenly awoken by a loud buzzing noise. Uh, my head. It feels like someone bashed it in with a hammer. Everything is so blurry. Uh, where the hell am I? I open my eyes, only to see a dark black blur, mixed with flashing red. I try to stand up, putting my hand out in front of me, only to touch against something cold and smooth. I begin to feel around me, using my sense of touch to make up for my lack of sight. It appears that I am in some sort of round, metallic container, with what feels like the crease of a hatch at the front. As I continue feeling around, my hands fall upon a bundle of wires, leading toward the back of the container. I decide to trace along one of the wires with my right index finger, hoping to find an indication as to what it leads to. Following the wire, I find that it leads upward behind my back and… Oh shit! It’s connected to my spine! Frantically, I tug on the wires, attempting to remove them from the socket connecting to my spine. With a loud sickening noise, the wires disconnect. Suddenly, I feel a sharp stab of pain shoot through the entirety of my body. I begin to push on the hatch, desperately feeling the need to escape the claustrophobic environment. I need to get out! I can’t breathe! Panicking, I slowly push the heavy hatch open and stumble from its entrance. Feeling dizzy, I collapse to the ground, vomiting clear bile upon the hard, metallic floor.
After recollecting myself from my moment of illness, I clear my mouth and stare off into the darkness, attempting to adjust my eyes to the dim, red light. Gradually, my surroundings become clearer, and I can just make out the cylindrical pod from which I was held captive. Though it is hard to see in the red light, the pod appears to be white in color and has a clear, glass hatch at its front. Looking to my left, I see that there is an identical pod, directly next to the pod from which I had escaped. With my eyes now fully adjusted to the dim light, I can see that there are rows upon rows of such pods, extending to my left and right, forming a sort of corridor. Turning around, I see that across from every pod, is a computer panel, each flashing red and buzzing loudly. So you are the one who woke me up. To what, I have no idea. What kind of hellish nightmare is this? And where the hell am I? Perhaps one of these computers might help me. Still unbalanced from my initial shock, I clumsily drag myself to the computer panel across from my pod. On the screen it reads; Cell 183…Opening…Error…Jam located in forward hatch…Need assistance. Jammed? So, I was supposed to be let out. I slide over to another panel, and it reads; Cell 182…Open. Glancing at its corresponding pod, I see that it is empty, its occupant long gone. I wonder who was in this one. Perhaps they can tell me where I am? I don’t remember anything. Nothing. I don’t even remember who I am or how I got here. Well, no sense in just standing here. I better get moving, if I want to answer my questions.
I begin to walk down the corridor. All of them are empty. Were there people in all of them? Was mine the only one that did not open? As I walk across the corrugated, metal walkway, I feel a sense of loneliness. Suddenly, I notice that one of the pods ahead of me is closed. Perhaps someone is still in there! Excitedly, I limp toward the closed pod, ignoring the sharp pain in my back. Finally reaching it, I see that there is someone inside, though the glass is so fogged that I cannot make out any distinguishing features. Quickly, I move over to its corresponding panel. It reads; Cell 37… inactive. I search the panel, hoping to find some way to open the hatch. All there is, is the screen. There are no command options! Ok, looks like I am going to have to do this manually. I grab the hatch, attempting to force it open, just as I had done. Come on, damn it! Open! The hatch doesn’t move. I notice that this particular hatch had several metallic latches, holding it in place. Desperately, I begin to throw my body at the glass, attempting to break through. No good. The glass is sturdier than it looks. Defeated, I decide that there is nothing I can do for this individual. “I’ll be back. I’ll bring some help and I will get you out of there.” I say allowed, as if the person could hear me. In the dim darkness, something catches my eye, distracting me from my anxiety. It appears to be something white and small, lying on the ground. Curiously, I walk over to it and snatch it up. It appears to be a card or something. Holding it up to the light of one of the panels, I can just make out the inscriptions on the card. It’s an identification card. The name says Thomas R. Reign and next to it is a picture of a young man, with brown hair and sunken cheeks. The edges of the card appear to be burned and so I can’t seem to make out what the rest of it says. I tried to pocket it, only to notice I don’t have a pocket. I’ve been so caught up in the situation that I didn’t notice that I was missing clothing.
At the end of the corridor is a door, continually sliding open and closed on its own. Must be malfunctioning. I quickly slip though it before it shuts, and find myself in a dimly lit room. This one is square and has a few computer terminals in the corner, and a row of five lockers. I step forward to find that my bare foot touches something sticky. I feel a wave of disgust as I look down to see that it is some sort of orange puddle of viscous goo, extending across the floor. Wiping my foot on the smooth tiled floor, I walk toward a row of lockers along one of the walls. Opening one, I find a large, rubber, full body suit. On the front of the suit, there is a name tag, which says; Peter G.
“I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow this,” I say to myself, as I put it on, “whoever he is.”
I decide to check the other four lockers, hoping that one of them could provide any indication as to where I am, but they were all empty. Damn. I head back over to the computer terminals, carefully avoiding the puddle of orange at the center of the room. I stop half way, noticing that the monitors are smashed and the computer lights are off. Those will probably be no use to me. Disappointed, I leave the room, through a door on the opposing wall.
I find myself in a large, circular room, with a cylinder pillar in the middle. Looking up, I find that I cannot see the ceiling.
“State your destination, please.” A monotone voice says, startling me.
“What?” I say allowed, looking around, attempting to find the source of the voice.
“State your destination, please.” The unknown person says again, their voice staying almost unnaturally calm and steady. Finally, my eyes locate the source; a speaker, mounted on the side of the central cylinder. Oh, it’s just a computer. This must be some sort of elevator.
“Uh… level three?” I say, unsure if there was even a level three.
“Identification, please.” The computer says in the same, smooth voice. How do I respond? I don’t know anyone here. Should I just say a name and hope that there isn’t some sort of security protection? Oh! Wait!
I pull out the card from the jump suit’s front pocket.
“Umm….Thomas Reign?” I say, hoping that this would work. I wait. Did it work?
Suddenly, the computer speaks again, “Level three. Observation deck.” The computer states and the elevator begins to rise upwards. After a few minutes, the lift rumbles to a stop and a door opens to my right. Stepping into the room, I am nearly blinded by the bright lights and the shocking white walls.
On the far wall, I see a long window. Curiously and cautiously, I make my way across the room towards it. Peering through it, my jaw drops. All I can see is blackness, stretching out as far as I can see in all directions. In the corner, I see an orange colored planet, surrounded by a cloud of dust. I am in outer space?! How the hell did I end up out here? I begin to feel an immense wave of fear, as I realize that if this ship is completely empty, then I could be trapped out here forever.
All of a sudden, I hear a shuffling noise coming from behind me. Slowly, I turn around, dreading what could be awaiting me. I stagger backwards in fear. It was roughly human in form, with its face pulled back and blackened, like charcoal. It looks to be human, but it is so badly burned that the face is almost indistinguishable.
“He…Me! H…el…Me!” It says, in a low raspy whisper.
Hell me? Oh…Help me! Oh shit! What should I do? It raised a charcoaled finger and pointed at a gun that is on a table behind me. What does he want me to do with that?
“Sh… Shoot me!” It says and it tries to choke back some internal fluids, but to no avail. I pick up the gun and point it at his head. Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me do this. I close my eyes as I prepare to pull the trigger.
Bang! I open my eyes to see him crumpled on the floor. I didn’t shoot him. What happened? Behind me, a man in a green jumpsuit steps out from a doorway, a smoking gun in his hand. I swing my gun towards him and shout, “Who are you?!” My hand is shaking as I try to keep the gun steady.
“Put down the gun. I am not going to hurt you,” The man says in a calm voice. “He was going to die anyway.” He adds as I look over at the now dead person.
Trusting my instincts, I half lower my gun but I don’t put it away. I look at the man now in front of me. He is a tall man, roughly a head above me. He has evenly cut, white hair, but doesn’t look to be much older than thirty.
“Who are you?” I repeat, my voice much steadier now. He cocks his head and looks inquisitively at me.
“I was hoping you could tell me. In all honesty, I have no idea.” He says.
“You couldn’t possibly know what has happened here, could you?” I say, relaxing a little. He shakes his head and holsters his weapon, no longer perceiving me as a threat.
“All I remember is waking up in a glass case a few hours ago. I am just as perplexed as you are. That man over there is the first of the crew that I have seen so far.” He says.
Suddenly, I remember the person trapped in the unopened pod. “Wait, there is another…”
“Don’t bother with it. The hatch won’t open. I’ve tried. The computer is fixed and the glass is nearly unbreakable.”
I place my weapon in my pocket and say, “How big is this place?”
“Here, I have managed to find a map.” He pulls out a disc shaped object and places it on the table. Pushing a button, a green light bursts forth and a network of corridors and rooms project above it. This ship is massive!
“We are here,” He says, pointing to a rectangular prism near the edge of the map, “and if we want to get out of here, we need to get to the hanger. If we are lucky, there should be at least one functioning shuttle to escape on.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask.
“In truth, I have no idea, but that would be our best bet,” he says evenly, “lets get going.”
Holding the map out in front of him, he leads the way out of the room, toward the far wall. The map’s green glow, lights the darkened corridor, as we cautiously make our way towards the hanger. I feel something drip on my head as we walk. Glancing up, I see water leaking out of the fractured pipes above. The drips against the metal floor echo ominously, as no other sounds could be heard.
What the hell am I doing here? I must have done something really bad to deserve this. I’ve got a bad feeling that things are going to get much worse. At least I have someone here to help me, but I can’t help but feel untrustworthy of him. For all I know, he could have caused all of this, but for now I will have to trust him.
Turning left, the man leads me into a narrow room, with windows running lengthwise on one side. As we pass by, I peer through the window. Beyond it, I see a sort of desert like setting. What is this room used for?
“We are in the ‘holding pens’ according to this map.” My companion says, noticing the direction of my gaze. A pen for what? I then notice something that makes my skin crawl. A portion of the window is shattered. Whatever was in there, must have escaped. But what? As if in answer to my question, I hear a sort of skittering noise.
“Do you hear that?” I say quietly. My companion stops walking, to listen for the noise. He turns to respond to me, only to have his face turn into a look of pure terror. I look up to see this massive, scorpion like creature hanging from the ceiling. Large tendrils squirm from its gaping maw, as if tasting the sent of our flesh in the air. Noticing that its position has been compromise, it freezes.
In a quiet voice, he whispers, “Move slowly towards the door.” I nod and begin to edge towards the far end.
We are halfway across the room, when an alarm overhead begins to sound. What are the chances of that?! The creature begins to shudder in rage and begins to bend its legs, preparing to pounce.
“Run!” I scream, as I realize that the monster intends to attack. Too late. It leaps off the ceiling and lands between me and the other man. It turns to face me, its many eyes glittering as its tendrils weave its way toward me. Pulling out my pistol, I fire a few rounds into them, causing an orange liquid to spray from the resulting wounds. Shrieking in pain, it covers its face with two massive scythe like appendages. Quickly recovering, it sweeps its large tail towards me, sending me crashing through the observation window. I land on a dune of sand, cushioning my fall. I feel blood pour from a gash on my forehead due to a sharp plate on the creature’s tail.
I quickly push myself to my feet, only to be thrown down again by the gargantuan beast. I recover, firing a few more rounds, but they just glance off the plates, which cover its tough hide. It rears on its legs to pounce again. Anticipating this, I roll out of the way, as its impact sprays sand in all directions. I hear the other man shooting at the creature from outside of the pen, but to no effect. Undeterred, the creature swipes its massive scythes at me. Luckily, I stumble out of the way and the scythes narrowly miss my head. One close call deserves another, as the barbed end of its tail lands near my midsection off to the right. Without thinking, I grab hold of the tail, clasping my gun in the other hand.
Raising its tail towards its mouth, its jaws open, revealing rows of sharp teeth. In desperation, I point the gun into its mouth and blast away. It begins to shriek in pain, causing me to let go. Writhing in agony, it collapses into itself. With a final, earsplitting shriek, the creature dies.
“Are you ok?” I say, as I raise myself to my feet. I feel shaken, but I don’t believe I have sustained any permanent injuries.
“Here, lets get out of here before something worse finds us.” I say, dusting myself off.
“I agree.” He says, helping me out of the pen.
“Hey, you know. You never told me your name.” I say.
“Well, I don’t really know. I have no recollection of anything before my arrival. Just call me 57. That’s my pod number.”
“Alright,” I say, “I guess that makes me 183 then.” And just like that, we form a sort of unshakable trust between us. If he watches my back, I will watch his. Just then, the situation is looking brighter. I don’t feel safe, but I take comfort in knowing that I have someone here who will help.
Leaving the “holding pen”, we find ourselves in a corridor which goes upward at an angle. It appears that the ground is moving like some sort of conveyor belt. Stepping onto it, we are sent zooming up the slope. As we move, I notice that there are portraits on the walls, moving along with the conveyor belt. One portrait has a picture of a tough looking old man, with short grey hair and dressed in a military uniform. Underneath, it says “Roberts M. Dante” in gold lettering.
57 hits me over the head, snapping me out of my daze. I angrily turn towards him, but realize that he is looking at something up ahead. I almost vomit, feeling my throat muscles begin to convulse. Ahead of us, charred bodies hang from the ceiling. Aside from their basic forms, they barely even look human.
I feel ill, as the conveyor belt moves forward, the bodies loom overhead. The stench is horrible. Thankfully, we pass quickly.
“What the hell was that? What the hell did that?!” I say, a frantic tone noticeable in my voice.
“What or who. I’m beginning to suspect that all of this was not caused by that monster we just had a run in with.”
“You mean, someone on the ship did this?” I say, in disbelief.
“Well, think about it. Would an animal hang those bodies like that? And would an animal burn the bodies?” He reasons.
“Yeah. Come to think of it, that does make sense. But why burn them?”
“I don’t know. Obviously, we don’t want to meet the fellow and find out.”
“I’m with you on that one.” I say, my sense of security greatly shaken.
The conveyor ends shortly, and we disembark only to find ourselves in a large, open room with marble floors. The sidewalls have balconies stretching the length of the wall, held up by pillars beneath them. These balconies go up for three levels, each connected by ramps that run the rooms perimeter. In the center of the plaza, is a fountain also made of marble, covered in beautiful intricate designs of horses and ships. A portion of it is fractured, causing water to puddle about the base. Calm, classical music fills the air from an unknown source. I pick up the smell of lilacs in the air, causing my tense muscles to relax. A wave of calm washes over me.
“Stay alert. Don’t get lulled into a sense of false security.” Says 57, his voice reverberating off the walls. I approach a counter near the fountain, under one of the balconies. It appears to be a sort of receptionist’s counter. This place feels like a hotel or something. This is no conventional spacecraft.
“This is the crews quarters.” 57 says, indicating it on the map with his index finger.
“If there are any survivors, we will find them here.” I say, hoisting myself over the counter.
“What are you doing?” 57 says, noticing that I am rummaging around the filing cabinets of the front desk.
“Just give me a sec. Maybe there’s something back here that will tell us what happened.” Most of the desk’s contents are badly burned. Looks like this pyro-maniac bastard wanted to really shake us up. Finally, I open a drawer, with most of its files intact. Looks like you missed one. I thumb through the files, reading the labels as I go through the stack. I finally come across something of interest. The label reads, “Passenger Roster”. Opening the folder, I pull out a single sheet of paper. It’s a list of all the crew and passengers. It is badly stained, but I can still read it. It says, that the ship had 30 crew, 50 passengers and 300 prisoners. Prisoners? This is a prison ship? Is it possible that I am a prisoner? It would make sense, considering I was held in a containment pod. Something still seems out of place. The atmosphere doesn’t seem to match.
“What’s the matter?” 57 asks, seeing the confused look on my face. I tell him what I found and he furrows his brow in thought.
“Is there anything else?” He asks.
“No. All the rest of the files are inventory lists and day schedules.” I respond.
57 looks disappointed but immediately recovers himself. His gaze then seems to focus on the back wall.
“Hey, what’s that?” he says, pointing at the far wall in the receptions area. It is very dark and hard to see.
“Here,” he says, “Take the map. It will provide some light.” I take the map disk and hold it up against the far wall, basking it in a ghostly green glow. It appears to be writing, written in a dark red substance. It smells like blood. Just below it, I see a man, slumped against the wall, tears all over his chest. Cautiously, I move closer, shining the green light on the man’s face. I recognize him. It’s the guy on the identification card. It’s Thomas. I check for a pulse, but find that his body is deathly cold. He’s been dead for a while.
“Well, what did you find, 183?” 57 says behind me. I tear my attention away from the body and bring my attention back to the wall.
It reads ‘To all that read this, be warned. I am the bringer of justice and the right hand of the angels robed in white. The divine ones crave vengeance for the sins you have committed. They ask that I purge this world of evil, using the fires that birthed them into this world. I have been chosen from many, as the most worthy to take up this task. I am their sworn servant and I will obey.’
“Well, what do you see?” 57 says, with a mix of impatience and worry.
“Oh…sorry. I think that we are not alone on this ship.” I say to him.
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” he says. I beckon him over the counter, indicating the message. As he reads, I see his facial expression change from curious to a dark, grim look. He then looks over at me and says, “I think we had better keep moving.”
I nod in agreement and we leave the reception area.
“So, what do we do now?” I ask, still shaken by the disturbing image.
“Well, I think that we should check each of the rooms for any survivors. Perhaps we can find someone who actually knows what the hell is going on!” I can see that 57’s demeanor seems to be a little shaken.
So we begin the task of searching each of the crew’s quarters, one room at a time in a systematic fashion. Each room has a bed, a video screen, a cushioned chair and a restroom. Oddly enough, each room looks perfectly intact, as if no one lived here. The story was the same for each room that we checked; everything was clean and tidy. After the ninth room checked, I begin to feel a little uneasy.
“It’s almost as if they were never here. Where’s the crew? What’s going on?” I say, looking over my shoulder as if expecting to see one of them behind me.
“I have no idea. This just doesn’t make sense. The whole ship has gone to hell, but these rooms look as if they’ve never been touched. There’s something more here. Come on, let’s keep looking.”
We finally reach the last room on the third floor. Opening the door, we are shocked to see that the room is not an exact duplicate of the others. The room is in total disarray; the bed is badly torn, the video screen smashed across the floor, the chair smashed to pieces, and the walls scratched and worn.
“Well, this is something. Looks like someone really messed this place up.” I say, not sure of what to make of the scene before me.
“What’s that on the back wall,” 57 says as he points at the corner of the far wall. “It looks as if a piece of it was removed.”
He walks over to the wall, carefully stepping over the broken glass and splinters of wood. Resting his head against the wall, he swiftly raises a fist and softly knocks against the wall. Slowly, a grin appears on his face.
“What! What is it?” I say in anticipation.
“The wall…it’s hollow. Look.” Without hesitation, he thrusts his fist through the wall and with a loud crash it tumbles to the ground. “After you.” He says, obviously pleased with his discovery.
Behind the wall, we find ourselves in an almost claustrophobic, yet expansive office room, with rows and rows of cubicles, and low ceilings.
“Hey. Look at this,” 57 says, indicating a point on the map, “By passing through that wall, we just took a short cut to our intended destination. It shouldn’t be long now.” 57 leads the way with me following close behind.
With that, my spirits run high. Maybe we are no closer to understanding the events that took place or who we are, but at least we are almost out of this hellish place. In spite of my light feeling, I can’t help but wonder if there actually is a shuttle in the hanger. Even if there is, where do we go from here? We have no idea where we are. One thing at a time, I guess.
Suddenly, I feel something tug on my pant leg, shortly followed by a faint snapping noise. From my right, I see a plank of wood full of jutting nails, swing out from behind one of the cubicles. This happens too quickly for me to react, and the sharpened nails embed themselves in my right thigh. I scream in agony as I feel several of the nails scrape against the bone as I attempt to dislodge it from my leg.
“57, Help! I…my leg…the pain is too…” I have to hold myself up against the cubical wall, so as not to collapse.
“I’m coming, 183! Just stay there. Don’t move! You don’t want to make it worse.” He quickly rushes back to me, failing to notice another trip wire. Before I can shout in warning, he trips the wire. I cringe, expecting another trap, but instead, I hear the air punctuated by a distant ringing noise.
“Oh, that can’t be good. This was set up by that psycho. He must know we are here now. Here, let me get you off that thing and then we’ve got to go, now.” Quickly, he removes my leg from the pile of nails, and dresses the wound with this torn jacket sleeve. “There, that should do, until we reach the shuttle. Does it hurt?”
“No. No, it doesn’t. I feel just fine. Thanks for asking.” I say, sarcasm heavy in my voice.
“Alright, your ok. Now, move.”
57 leads us out of the ‘office space’, to a short hallway, which leads to a set of heavy doors. 57 throws the doors open, revealing a massive room, with high rising ceilings. Rusty metal catwalks crisscross overhead in all directions, connected by numerous ramps and walkways. The area is full of rusty machinery, loudly clanking and screeching as they operate. I suppose this is the ship’s engine room. Holding the map out in front of him, 57 leads us up one of the many catwalks, as I painfully limp behind him. I can’t help but have the feeling that someone is watching us. As we walk across one of the metallic ramps, I can’t help but notice a series of rotating turbines beneath us. That would be a nasty fall. I better keep my footing.
Suddenly, I can hear a manic cackling noise, echoing off the distant walls. We freeze in fear, unsure of what we just heard. 57 looks over at me, a look of concern on his face. I look back at him, showing that I too had heard the sound. Again, we hear the loud cackling noise.
“I think that we’ve been found.” 57 says, attempting to keep his voice calm. All of a sudden, I see something rapidly moving towards us from out of the darkness. “Get down!” 57 screams, and we both collapse on the floor of the walkway. This is fortunate, just as we hit the ground, a man hanging on to a black power cable, swings overhead, slashing at us with a large machete in his free hand. The machete slices into one of the rusty support poles and it falls to the floor. With a powerful sounding thud, the man drops onto the catwalk, between me and 57. I look up to identify our attacker. He is an agile, powerful looking man, with multiple scars lacing across his exposed torso. He is wearing dark brown cargo pants, dirtied with a mixture of blood and oil stains. His face is heavily scarred and his nose looks as if it has been broken several times before. Grinning manically, he looks up at me and says, “I’ve been wondering when you would show up. I nearly tore my own eyes out in anticipation of this moment,” He looks down at my bandaged right leg and begins laughing hoarsely, “So you were the one who set it off. Good thing it didn’t kill you. The angels in white would not be happy with that.”
“What the hell are you talking about?!” I scream at him, the pain in my leg returning worse than before. From the corner of my eye, I can see 57 pulling out his pistol, ready to defend me.
“I have been sent to remove you and your friend from this world. I am their right hand, and I have been tasked with your destruction.” With that, he raises his machete, as if ready to strike me. Swiftly, he spirals around and knocks the pistol from my companion’s hand. It plummets into the turbines below, forever lost. “Disappointing. You cannot kill me. Many have tried before you and all have failed. That is why they chose me from many, for the task.”
Almost gracefully, he spins around and makes a horizontal slash at 57. 57 collapses to the floor, the knife narrowly missing him. The madman makes another calculated slash, again missing 57. 57 retaliates with a sharp kick into the man’s ribs, sending him sprawling on his back, but he quickly jumps back to his feet. “This maybe more fun than I thought!” He then begins haphazardly swinging his machete, 57 ducking out of the way of each blow. 57 then delivers another swift punch to the man’s ribs and I can hear a sharp cracking noise. Who the hell was 57 before all of this? The madman looks up with a grin on his face and the ferocity of his attacks increase.
I fumble around my pockets for my pistol. My hand rests on its smooth handle and I quickly point it at the psychopath. I pull the trigger. Click…Click. Damn it! I must have wasted all my ammunition on the scorpion! I quickly decide to improvise and grab up the broken metal pole from the ground. I then push myself to my feet and limp behind the madman. Raising the pole, I then bring it down with all the force in my body, upon his head. It makes contact and I can hear a resounding clang. The madman stops for a second and then tumbles from the catwalk into the darkness below.
“Thank you,” 57 says, breathing heavily, sweat pouring from his face, “I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted.
“Who the hell were you before all of this? Where did you learn that?” I say in amazement.
“I don’t know, I just… I just do it.” I can see that he feels a little uneasy, so I decide to drop it. After a few minutes, we decide to continue. Finally, we reach the other edge of the engine room, where the walkway leads into another claustrophobic hallway.
“What do you suppose he meant by what he said?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Just crazy stuff I guess. The guy was a madman.” 57 replies.
“I’m not so sure. I wonder what he meant when he said that he was ‘chosen’?” 57 just shrugs and so I let it go.
“How much farther? I ask, noticing that the sides of the corridor are lined with a number of computer panels.
“Well, it’s not much further. At this rate, we should be there in less than five minutes. How’s that leg holding up?”
“Much better. The adrenaline, it must be why it feels numb.” I respond.
“Hmmm. When we get to the shuttle, I’ll take a closer look at it.”
We continue walking for a few more minutes, when we hear something. It’s faint, but definitely audible. I strain my ears.
“Is…is that someone crying?” I say. All of a sudden, I can definitely hear a woman shrieking further up the corridor.
“Someone’s in trouble! We better go help!” 57 says and begins sprinting down the hallway. I try to keep up, but my right leg, just won’t cooperate. I see 57 stop at the end of the hall and then quickly turn a corner.
“Wait! Don’t go ahead! I can’t keep up!” I yell after him. I attempt to run faster, but that just makes my leg feel weird. I finally reach the end of the hallway, turning to see that the there is a sealed door with a small window, where 57 had passed through. I try to open it with the latch, but the door won’t budge. Peering through the small window, I see a body, slumped on the floor, the air full of a dense, yellowish gas. It’s 57! Frantically, I tug at the door latch. It doesn’t move. I pull out the rusty metal pipe from my pocket and begin smashing it against the window. When I move back away from the door, I notice that the glass doesn’t have a single mark. I look around me for something that I could use to force the door open, but I can find nothing.
“57! 57! No! No, no, no, no.” I continue slamming my fists against the door, knowing I can do nothing to help. I slide to the floor against the wall, feeling hopeless. He can’t be dead. We’ve come so far. If anyone could get us out, it would be him. In the short time that we were together, I have come to know him as a friend. Now he’s gone. I can’t make it alone.
I sit there for a few minutes, trying to calm down and assess my situation. Ok, I can still make it, but…Damn it. He has the map. I suppose I could just find another way around. Suddenly, I hear the same calm voice from the elevator speak, “Chlorine gas fully deployed. Termination complete. Commencing gas removal.” I then hear a loud sucking noise coming from the room near me. Then, I hear the door unlatch and it swings open. “Room is now safe for entry.” My first impulse is to rush to 57’s aid, but I decide against it. It could be another trap. That bastard computer must have done this. How do I know it won’t do it again? I sit there and ponder for a moment. Finally, I decide that it is worth the risk and so I limp toward 57. When I reach him, I see that about him, he has coughed up most of the contents of his stomach, along with what could have been a lung. It is too late. He is gone.
I search his pockets for the disk, feeling almost guilty as I do so. After finding it, I continue through what appears to be a laboratory, until I reach the door on the far side, which then leads to another corridor. As I leave it, I can’t help but feel sorry that I have to leave the body. I can’t possibly carry him on this leg. I now have to be concerned with my survival.
Finally, I reach my destination, as the corridor turns, leading to the wide-open shuttle bay. The room is almost completely empty, accept for a single, remaining shuttle. At the far wall, I see the immense airlock doors. Behind those doors is my only chance at escape. I am filled with a renewed burst of energy, as I limp over to the shuttle. It is a rectangular ship, with three triangular fins jutting out of the back. The front of the ship has large, tinted windows and on its side, is an airlock door, with a ladder hanging underneath. Hoisting myself up to the door, I press a button, which causes the door to hiss open. The interior of the ship is mostly empty, except for the control panels and pilot’s seat at the front. I anxiously take my seat at the controls and take a minute to analyze them before I attempt to lift off. I finally, find the button labeled; ‘start up’ and I push it. The lights turn on, and I shout with joy. I am getting out of here!
Suddenly, I hear the ship’s computer speak through the computer panels. “Shuttle powering up. All systems check. Failure. Insufficient power for lift off.” Wait…What?! That can’t be it. I don’t believe it. I can’t have come all this way, just to be stuck here. This is unreal. Angrily, I slam my fists on the controls. This cannot be how it ends! I rest my head on the dashboard, feeling that all is lost.
Then, I hear the sound of an engine and working machinery. Is the shuttle working? I quickly sit back up, hoping that the shuttle had somehow gained power of its own accord. Wait, but the shuttle is still inactive. It’s coming from the doors. They are opening! I’m going to get sucked out into space! I brace myself, preparing myself for the horrific death that I am about to face. They begin to open, but instead of the blackness of space, I can see blinding white light shining into the shuttle bay. What is going on? When the doors are completely open, I see a man shaped figure step into the shuttle bay from the light. He looks up at me and I can hear him say in a low, gruff voice, “Congratulations! You have successfully survived the ‘human stress test’.” What the hell is this? I don’t understand. The man begins to beckon me forward, toward the light. My feeling of fear is replaced by a complete willingness to cooperate. In a trance, I drop down from the shuttle and walk towards him.
“Please, follow me. I am sure you have many questions. So do we.” He says, putting a hand on my shoulder, as if we were old friends. Everything is blurry. The almost blinding light stings my eyes. I have no choice but to follow the direction of the man next to me. He suddenly stops and then removes his arm from my shoulder. I feel lost and confused. “Take a moment let you eyes adjust.” He says.
Gradually, everything becomes clearer, my former blindness slowly disappearing. I can see that I am in a white room, full of complex machinery and computers. Scientists in white lab coats busily move about, viewing data screens, taking notes and typing away on computers. In front of me, is a chair and a wooden desk, with a computer on it. On the opposite side of the desk, sits an old man who is dressed in a white lab coat, who looks strangely familiar.
“Dante!” I say, remembering that I saw his face on the conveyor belt on the ship, or whatever it was.
“Dr. Dante, but yes, you are correct,” He smiles, acting very pleasant. He then sits back in his chair, still smiling. “Well, don’t you have any questions?” he asks.
“I don’t know where to start. What was all of that?”
“That, is one of the most advanced and elaborate test centers in the country. Here, we monitor and test subjects for their physiological and psychological reactions to extremely stressful situations. From this room, we have been monitoring your heart rate, hormone release, neural electrical impulses, neurotransmitter release, and several other bodily functions using implanted sensors within your body in order to understand exactly how the body responds to situations that evoke fear. As you may have guessed, it isn’t enough to just subject the test subject to one fear-causing event, as there are many different types of fear. To resolve this, we have designed the testing center to expose you to dangers against something that is nonhuman, against a human, against a computer and against a situation, where you are completely helpless. In each of these different situations, your body reacts to them in a unique way, and so we record these changes. We also recorded your psychological responses to these situations, based on your internal functions and your actions in each crisis situation. When 57 died, we wanted to see how you would react to the situation, when you knew that you would have to continue alone. Also, when you were faced with the dying burn victim, we wanted to see if you could pull the trigger. This experiment wasn’t without confounding variables. We did not expect 57 to interfere with this portion of the experiment, but that will be corrected for next time.”
“Next time?” I ask.
“Yes. We have been running these tests for years. With each test, we improve upon it, so as to have more accurate results for the next time. So we have done many tests. Several variations. Fear is not the only emotion that we have tested for. We have testing centers for happiness, for anger, for sadness. We have done tests for any sort of situation you can think of. In fact, subject number 66, ah… the madman, I believe you called him, is an individual who we have tested in a variable testing environment. In his test, we placed many individuals in an empty room and pitted them against each other, to see which individuals would survive. He was the most successful and so we chose him for your test, as he was the last remaining survivor.”
“What about that man that I saw in the pod that wouldn’t open?” I ask, more curious than angry at the moment.
“He was the control group. We monitored your bodily systems and then compared them to him. He was our baseline.” Roberts says.
“So you placed a lot of false clues, to keep us confused, so that there was no way that we could guess what was going on.” I say, beginning to piece everything together, not liking the picture I am getting.
“Yes. Very good! I see that you are beginning to understand.” Roberts says, almost unable to contain his pride.
“This is a lot to take in,” I say, feeling confused and a growing anger, “So, this was just some sort of test? You were watching me the whole time? You were just watching me, when I was in mortal danger, when 57 was killed? Was I just your white rat? Just a lab rat?”
With the smile remaining on his face, he says, “Yes.”
At this point, I can feel my body coursing with anger. I feel a tremendous amount of hatred for this man.
Glancing over at the computer monitor, he gives a little chuckle and says, “According to this, you are angry. But I can see that from the expression on your face.”
“You can’t play with people like that. This is wrong. What you are doing is wrong!” I stand from my seat in rage.
“Right and wrong have nothing to do with it. We are making great discoveries in the name of science. Such information helps us better understand ourselves. It could help to save lives. What we do here is dare to do what no one else would. What we learn here is invaluable to humanity.”
That is all I can handle. Incredibly angry, I draw my fist back ready to strike. Dr. Roberts grins and presses a button on his computer, which causes my muscles to freeze. I can’t move. “Calm down. The nightmare is over. Your mind is now contaminated. You are free to go.”
He presses another button and I regain control of my muscle movement. He raises a finger towards a door, leading to a glass corridor. “First, you are to be decontaminated and then you can exit through the opposing door.”
I turn around, still furious and walk over to the decontamination chamber. As I make my way over to the chamber, I see all of the scientists crowd around me, applauding. When I get out of here, I will get my revenge against this whole organization! I feel my hatred grow, as I look at all their proud, smiling faces. During all the commotion, something near one of the heating vents at the back corner of the white lab room catches my eye. I see that the grating is removed and for a brief moment, I think I see a face, which quickly disappears from view. I am not quite sure, but I think it was subject 66, the madman! No, it couldn’t be… he fell to his death. I’m sure he did. Didn’t he? The door slides open and I step in. The doors at both ends of the chamber seal shut. Water sprays from several nozzles above me and I close my eyes as I feel the warm water splash against my skin. Well, at least it will be nice to get clean. I feel so disgusting. I just want to wash all of those bad memories off of me. I open my eyes again and look at my hands. There’s something weird about my hands. They’re …they’re…they’re melting! I look at the rest of my body; my arms, my legs, my chest. It’s all melting. I throw my body against the glass wall, in a final attempt to escape, but I know that all hope for escape is lost.
* * * * * *
Number 183 is reduced to a puddle of organic material, liquefied and no longer recognizable as human. A drain at the bottom of the decontamination room collects the material, and it is piped into a series of tubes and machines, each material separately collected into individual flasks and containers. Once completely separated, a man-sized pod activates, and a laser projection of a human form is created within the case. The outline of the human form is filled with the various organic materials, forming a skeletal structure, then the circulatory system and organs, then the muscles and finally, the skin. When the process is complete, number 183 opens his eyes, ready to repeat the cycle once more.
12/07/08
COMP 106
Prof. Yerks
White Rat
I am suddenly awoken by a loud buzzing noise. Uh, my head. It feels like someone bashed it in with a hammer. Everything is so blurry. Uh, where the hell am I? I open my eyes, only to see a dark black blur, mixed with flashing red. I try to stand up, putting my hand out in front of me, only to touch against something cold and smooth. I begin to feel around me, using my sense of touch to make up for my lack of sight. It appears that I am in some sort of round, metallic container, with what feels like the crease of a hatch at the front. As I continue feeling around, my hands fall upon a bundle of wires, leading toward the back of the container. I decide to trace along one of the wires with my right index finger, hoping to find an indication as to what it leads to. Following the wire, I find that it leads upward behind my back and… Oh shit! It’s connected to my spine! Frantically, I tug on the wires, attempting to remove them from the socket connecting to my spine. With a loud sickening noise, the wires disconnect. Suddenly, I feel a sharp stab of pain shoot through the entirety of my body. I begin to push on the hatch, desperately feeling the need to escape the claustrophobic environment. I need to get out! I can’t breathe! Panicking, I slowly push the heavy hatch open and stumble from its entrance. Feeling dizzy, I collapse to the ground, vomiting clear bile upon the hard, metallic floor.
After recollecting myself from my moment of illness, I clear my mouth and stare off into the darkness, attempting to adjust my eyes to the dim, red light. Gradually, my surroundings become clearer, and I can just make out the cylindrical pod from which I was held captive. Though it is hard to see in the red light, the pod appears to be white in color and has a clear, glass hatch at its front. Looking to my left, I see that there is an identical pod, directly next to the pod from which I had escaped. With my eyes now fully adjusted to the dim light, I can see that there are rows upon rows of such pods, extending to my left and right, forming a sort of corridor. Turning around, I see that across from every pod, is a computer panel, each flashing red and buzzing loudly. So you are the one who woke me up. To what, I have no idea. What kind of hellish nightmare is this? And where the hell am I? Perhaps one of these computers might help me. Still unbalanced from my initial shock, I clumsily drag myself to the computer panel across from my pod. On the screen it reads; Cell 183…Opening…Error…Jam located in forward hatch…Need assistance. Jammed? So, I was supposed to be let out. I slide over to another panel, and it reads; Cell 182…Open. Glancing at its corresponding pod, I see that it is empty, its occupant long gone. I wonder who was in this one. Perhaps they can tell me where I am? I don’t remember anything. Nothing. I don’t even remember who I am or how I got here. Well, no sense in just standing here. I better get moving, if I want to answer my questions.
I begin to walk down the corridor. All of them are empty. Were there people in all of them? Was mine the only one that did not open? As I walk across the corrugated, metal walkway, I feel a sense of loneliness. Suddenly, I notice that one of the pods ahead of me is closed. Perhaps someone is still in there! Excitedly, I limp toward the closed pod, ignoring the sharp pain in my back. Finally reaching it, I see that there is someone inside, though the glass is so fogged that I cannot make out any distinguishing features. Quickly, I move over to its corresponding panel. It reads; Cell 37… inactive. I search the panel, hoping to find some way to open the hatch. All there is, is the screen. There are no command options! Ok, looks like I am going to have to do this manually. I grab the hatch, attempting to force it open, just as I had done. Come on, damn it! Open! The hatch doesn’t move. I notice that this particular hatch had several metallic latches, holding it in place. Desperately, I begin to throw my body at the glass, attempting to break through. No good. The glass is sturdier than it looks. Defeated, I decide that there is nothing I can do for this individual. “I’ll be back. I’ll bring some help and I will get you out of there.” I say allowed, as if the person could hear me. In the dim darkness, something catches my eye, distracting me from my anxiety. It appears to be something white and small, lying on the ground. Curiously, I walk over to it and snatch it up. It appears to be a card or something. Holding it up to the light of one of the panels, I can just make out the inscriptions on the card. It’s an identification card. The name says Thomas R. Reign and next to it is a picture of a young man, with brown hair and sunken cheeks. The edges of the card appear to be burned and so I can’t seem to make out what the rest of it says. I tried to pocket it, only to notice I don’t have a pocket. I’ve been so caught up in the situation that I didn’t notice that I was missing clothing.
At the end of the corridor is a door, continually sliding open and closed on its own. Must be malfunctioning. I quickly slip though it before it shuts, and find myself in a dimly lit room. This one is square and has a few computer terminals in the corner, and a row of five lockers. I step forward to find that my bare foot touches something sticky. I feel a wave of disgust as I look down to see that it is some sort of orange puddle of viscous goo, extending across the floor. Wiping my foot on the smooth tiled floor, I walk toward a row of lockers along one of the walls. Opening one, I find a large, rubber, full body suit. On the front of the suit, there is a name tag, which says; Peter G.
“I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow this,” I say to myself, as I put it on, “whoever he is.”
I decide to check the other four lockers, hoping that one of them could provide any indication as to where I am, but they were all empty. Damn. I head back over to the computer terminals, carefully avoiding the puddle of orange at the center of the room. I stop half way, noticing that the monitors are smashed and the computer lights are off. Those will probably be no use to me. Disappointed, I leave the room, through a door on the opposing wall.
I find myself in a large, circular room, with a cylinder pillar in the middle. Looking up, I find that I cannot see the ceiling.
“State your destination, please.” A monotone voice says, startling me.
“What?” I say allowed, looking around, attempting to find the source of the voice.
“State your destination, please.” The unknown person says again, their voice staying almost unnaturally calm and steady. Finally, my eyes locate the source; a speaker, mounted on the side of the central cylinder. Oh, it’s just a computer. This must be some sort of elevator.
“Uh… level three?” I say, unsure if there was even a level three.
“Identification, please.” The computer says in the same, smooth voice. How do I respond? I don’t know anyone here. Should I just say a name and hope that there isn’t some sort of security protection? Oh! Wait!
I pull out the card from the jump suit’s front pocket.
“Umm….Thomas Reign?” I say, hoping that this would work. I wait. Did it work?
Suddenly, the computer speaks again, “Level three. Observation deck.” The computer states and the elevator begins to rise upwards. After a few minutes, the lift rumbles to a stop and a door opens to my right. Stepping into the room, I am nearly blinded by the bright lights and the shocking white walls.
On the far wall, I see a long window. Curiously and cautiously, I make my way across the room towards it. Peering through it, my jaw drops. All I can see is blackness, stretching out as far as I can see in all directions. In the corner, I see an orange colored planet, surrounded by a cloud of dust. I am in outer space?! How the hell did I end up out here? I begin to feel an immense wave of fear, as I realize that if this ship is completely empty, then I could be trapped out here forever.
All of a sudden, I hear a shuffling noise coming from behind me. Slowly, I turn around, dreading what could be awaiting me. I stagger backwards in fear. It was roughly human in form, with its face pulled back and blackened, like charcoal. It looks to be human, but it is so badly burned that the face is almost indistinguishable.
“He…Me! H…el…Me!” It says, in a low raspy whisper.
Hell me? Oh…Help me! Oh shit! What should I do? It raised a charcoaled finger and pointed at a gun that is on a table behind me. What does he want me to do with that?
“Sh… Shoot me!” It says and it tries to choke back some internal fluids, but to no avail. I pick up the gun and point it at his head. Don’t make me do this. Don’t make me do this. I close my eyes as I prepare to pull the trigger.
Bang! I open my eyes to see him crumpled on the floor. I didn’t shoot him. What happened? Behind me, a man in a green jumpsuit steps out from a doorway, a smoking gun in his hand. I swing my gun towards him and shout, “Who are you?!” My hand is shaking as I try to keep the gun steady.
“Put down the gun. I am not going to hurt you,” The man says in a calm voice. “He was going to die anyway.” He adds as I look over at the now dead person.
Trusting my instincts, I half lower my gun but I don’t put it away. I look at the man now in front of me. He is a tall man, roughly a head above me. He has evenly cut, white hair, but doesn’t look to be much older than thirty.
“Who are you?” I repeat, my voice much steadier now. He cocks his head and looks inquisitively at me.
“I was hoping you could tell me. In all honesty, I have no idea.” He says.
“You couldn’t possibly know what has happened here, could you?” I say, relaxing a little. He shakes his head and holsters his weapon, no longer perceiving me as a threat.
“All I remember is waking up in a glass case a few hours ago. I am just as perplexed as you are. That man over there is the first of the crew that I have seen so far.” He says.
Suddenly, I remember the person trapped in the unopened pod. “Wait, there is another…”
“Don’t bother with it. The hatch won’t open. I’ve tried. The computer is fixed and the glass is nearly unbreakable.”
I place my weapon in my pocket and say, “How big is this place?”
“Here, I have managed to find a map.” He pulls out a disc shaped object and places it on the table. Pushing a button, a green light bursts forth and a network of corridors and rooms project above it. This ship is massive!
“We are here,” He says, pointing to a rectangular prism near the edge of the map, “and if we want to get out of here, we need to get to the hanger. If we are lucky, there should be at least one functioning shuttle to escape on.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask.
“In truth, I have no idea, but that would be our best bet,” he says evenly, “lets get going.”
Holding the map out in front of him, he leads the way out of the room, toward the far wall. The map’s green glow, lights the darkened corridor, as we cautiously make our way towards the hanger. I feel something drip on my head as we walk. Glancing up, I see water leaking out of the fractured pipes above. The drips against the metal floor echo ominously, as no other sounds could be heard.
What the hell am I doing here? I must have done something really bad to deserve this. I’ve got a bad feeling that things are going to get much worse. At least I have someone here to help me, but I can’t help but feel untrustworthy of him. For all I know, he could have caused all of this, but for now I will have to trust him.
Turning left, the man leads me into a narrow room, with windows running lengthwise on one side. As we pass by, I peer through the window. Beyond it, I see a sort of desert like setting. What is this room used for?
“We are in the ‘holding pens’ according to this map.” My companion says, noticing the direction of my gaze. A pen for what? I then notice something that makes my skin crawl. A portion of the window is shattered. Whatever was in there, must have escaped. But what? As if in answer to my question, I hear a sort of skittering noise.
“Do you hear that?” I say quietly. My companion stops walking, to listen for the noise. He turns to respond to me, only to have his face turn into a look of pure terror. I look up to see this massive, scorpion like creature hanging from the ceiling. Large tendrils squirm from its gaping maw, as if tasting the sent of our flesh in the air. Noticing that its position has been compromise, it freezes.
In a quiet voice, he whispers, “Move slowly towards the door.” I nod and begin to edge towards the far end.
We are halfway across the room, when an alarm overhead begins to sound. What are the chances of that?! The creature begins to shudder in rage and begins to bend its legs, preparing to pounce.
“Run!” I scream, as I realize that the monster intends to attack. Too late. It leaps off the ceiling and lands between me and the other man. It turns to face me, its many eyes glittering as its tendrils weave its way toward me. Pulling out my pistol, I fire a few rounds into them, causing an orange liquid to spray from the resulting wounds. Shrieking in pain, it covers its face with two massive scythe like appendages. Quickly recovering, it sweeps its large tail towards me, sending me crashing through the observation window. I land on a dune of sand, cushioning my fall. I feel blood pour from a gash on my forehead due to a sharp plate on the creature’s tail.
I quickly push myself to my feet, only to be thrown down again by the gargantuan beast. I recover, firing a few more rounds, but they just glance off the plates, which cover its tough hide. It rears on its legs to pounce again. Anticipating this, I roll out of the way, as its impact sprays sand in all directions. I hear the other man shooting at the creature from outside of the pen, but to no effect. Undeterred, the creature swipes its massive scythes at me. Luckily, I stumble out of the way and the scythes narrowly miss my head. One close call deserves another, as the barbed end of its tail lands near my midsection off to the right. Without thinking, I grab hold of the tail, clasping my gun in the other hand.
Raising its tail towards its mouth, its jaws open, revealing rows of sharp teeth. In desperation, I point the gun into its mouth and blast away. It begins to shriek in pain, causing me to let go. Writhing in agony, it collapses into itself. With a final, earsplitting shriek, the creature dies.
“Are you ok?” I say, as I raise myself to my feet. I feel shaken, but I don’t believe I have sustained any permanent injuries.
“Here, lets get out of here before something worse finds us.” I say, dusting myself off.
“I agree.” He says, helping me out of the pen.
“Hey, you know. You never told me your name.” I say.
“Well, I don’t really know. I have no recollection of anything before my arrival. Just call me 57. That’s my pod number.”
“Alright,” I say, “I guess that makes me 183 then.” And just like that, we form a sort of unshakable trust between us. If he watches my back, I will watch his. Just then, the situation is looking brighter. I don’t feel safe, but I take comfort in knowing that I have someone here who will help.
Leaving the “holding pen”, we find ourselves in a corridor which goes upward at an angle. It appears that the ground is moving like some sort of conveyor belt. Stepping onto it, we are sent zooming up the slope. As we move, I notice that there are portraits on the walls, moving along with the conveyor belt. One portrait has a picture of a tough looking old man, with short grey hair and dressed in a military uniform. Underneath, it says “Roberts M. Dante” in gold lettering.
57 hits me over the head, snapping me out of my daze. I angrily turn towards him, but realize that he is looking at something up ahead. I almost vomit, feeling my throat muscles begin to convulse. Ahead of us, charred bodies hang from the ceiling. Aside from their basic forms, they barely even look human.
I feel ill, as the conveyor belt moves forward, the bodies loom overhead. The stench is horrible. Thankfully, we pass quickly.
“What the hell was that? What the hell did that?!” I say, a frantic tone noticeable in my voice.
“What or who. I’m beginning to suspect that all of this was not caused by that monster we just had a run in with.”
“You mean, someone on the ship did this?” I say, in disbelief.
“Well, think about it. Would an animal hang those bodies like that? And would an animal burn the bodies?” He reasons.
“Yeah. Come to think of it, that does make sense. But why burn them?”
“I don’t know. Obviously, we don’t want to meet the fellow and find out.”
“I’m with you on that one.” I say, my sense of security greatly shaken.
The conveyor ends shortly, and we disembark only to find ourselves in a large, open room with marble floors. The sidewalls have balconies stretching the length of the wall, held up by pillars beneath them. These balconies go up for three levels, each connected by ramps that run the rooms perimeter. In the center of the plaza, is a fountain also made of marble, covered in beautiful intricate designs of horses and ships. A portion of it is fractured, causing water to puddle about the base. Calm, classical music fills the air from an unknown source. I pick up the smell of lilacs in the air, causing my tense muscles to relax. A wave of calm washes over me.
“Stay alert. Don’t get lulled into a sense of false security.” Says 57, his voice reverberating off the walls. I approach a counter near the fountain, under one of the balconies. It appears to be a sort of receptionist’s counter. This place feels like a hotel or something. This is no conventional spacecraft.
“This is the crews quarters.” 57 says, indicating it on the map with his index finger.
“If there are any survivors, we will find them here.” I say, hoisting myself over the counter.
“What are you doing?” 57 says, noticing that I am rummaging around the filing cabinets of the front desk.
“Just give me a sec. Maybe there’s something back here that will tell us what happened.” Most of the desk’s contents are badly burned. Looks like this pyro-maniac bastard wanted to really shake us up. Finally, I open a drawer, with most of its files intact. Looks like you missed one. I thumb through the files, reading the labels as I go through the stack. I finally come across something of interest. The label reads, “Passenger Roster”. Opening the folder, I pull out a single sheet of paper. It’s a list of all the crew and passengers. It is badly stained, but I can still read it. It says, that the ship had 30 crew, 50 passengers and 300 prisoners. Prisoners? This is a prison ship? Is it possible that I am a prisoner? It would make sense, considering I was held in a containment pod. Something still seems out of place. The atmosphere doesn’t seem to match.
“What’s the matter?” 57 asks, seeing the confused look on my face. I tell him what I found and he furrows his brow in thought.
“Is there anything else?” He asks.
“No. All the rest of the files are inventory lists and day schedules.” I respond.
57 looks disappointed but immediately recovers himself. His gaze then seems to focus on the back wall.
“Hey, what’s that?” he says, pointing at the far wall in the receptions area. It is very dark and hard to see.
“Here,” he says, “Take the map. It will provide some light.” I take the map disk and hold it up against the far wall, basking it in a ghostly green glow. It appears to be writing, written in a dark red substance. It smells like blood. Just below it, I see a man, slumped against the wall, tears all over his chest. Cautiously, I move closer, shining the green light on the man’s face. I recognize him. It’s the guy on the identification card. It’s Thomas. I check for a pulse, but find that his body is deathly cold. He’s been dead for a while.
“Well, what did you find, 183?” 57 says behind me. I tear my attention away from the body and bring my attention back to the wall.
It reads ‘To all that read this, be warned. I am the bringer of justice and the right hand of the angels robed in white. The divine ones crave vengeance for the sins you have committed. They ask that I purge this world of evil, using the fires that birthed them into this world. I have been chosen from many, as the most worthy to take up this task. I am their sworn servant and I will obey.’
“Well, what do you see?” 57 says, with a mix of impatience and worry.
“Oh…sorry. I think that we are not alone on this ship.” I say to him.
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” he says. I beckon him over the counter, indicating the message. As he reads, I see his facial expression change from curious to a dark, grim look. He then looks over at me and says, “I think we had better keep moving.”
I nod in agreement and we leave the reception area.
“So, what do we do now?” I ask, still shaken by the disturbing image.
“Well, I think that we should check each of the rooms for any survivors. Perhaps we can find someone who actually knows what the hell is going on!” I can see that 57’s demeanor seems to be a little shaken.
So we begin the task of searching each of the crew’s quarters, one room at a time in a systematic fashion. Each room has a bed, a video screen, a cushioned chair and a restroom. Oddly enough, each room looks perfectly intact, as if no one lived here. The story was the same for each room that we checked; everything was clean and tidy. After the ninth room checked, I begin to feel a little uneasy.
“It’s almost as if they were never here. Where’s the crew? What’s going on?” I say, looking over my shoulder as if expecting to see one of them behind me.
“I have no idea. This just doesn’t make sense. The whole ship has gone to hell, but these rooms look as if they’ve never been touched. There’s something more here. Come on, let’s keep looking.”
We finally reach the last room on the third floor. Opening the door, we are shocked to see that the room is not an exact duplicate of the others. The room is in total disarray; the bed is badly torn, the video screen smashed across the floor, the chair smashed to pieces, and the walls scratched and worn.
“Well, this is something. Looks like someone really messed this place up.” I say, not sure of what to make of the scene before me.
“What’s that on the back wall,” 57 says as he points at the corner of the far wall. “It looks as if a piece of it was removed.”
He walks over to the wall, carefully stepping over the broken glass and splinters of wood. Resting his head against the wall, he swiftly raises a fist and softly knocks against the wall. Slowly, a grin appears on his face.
“What! What is it?” I say in anticipation.
“The wall…it’s hollow. Look.” Without hesitation, he thrusts his fist through the wall and with a loud crash it tumbles to the ground. “After you.” He says, obviously pleased with his discovery.
Behind the wall, we find ourselves in an almost claustrophobic, yet expansive office room, with rows and rows of cubicles, and low ceilings.
“Hey. Look at this,” 57 says, indicating a point on the map, “By passing through that wall, we just took a short cut to our intended destination. It shouldn’t be long now.” 57 leads the way with me following close behind.
With that, my spirits run high. Maybe we are no closer to understanding the events that took place or who we are, but at least we are almost out of this hellish place. In spite of my light feeling, I can’t help but wonder if there actually is a shuttle in the hanger. Even if there is, where do we go from here? We have no idea where we are. One thing at a time, I guess.
Suddenly, I feel something tug on my pant leg, shortly followed by a faint snapping noise. From my right, I see a plank of wood full of jutting nails, swing out from behind one of the cubicles. This happens too quickly for me to react, and the sharpened nails embed themselves in my right thigh. I scream in agony as I feel several of the nails scrape against the bone as I attempt to dislodge it from my leg.
“57, Help! I…my leg…the pain is too…” I have to hold myself up against the cubical wall, so as not to collapse.
“I’m coming, 183! Just stay there. Don’t move! You don’t want to make it worse.” He quickly rushes back to me, failing to notice another trip wire. Before I can shout in warning, he trips the wire. I cringe, expecting another trap, but instead, I hear the air punctuated by a distant ringing noise.
“Oh, that can’t be good. This was set up by that psycho. He must know we are here now. Here, let me get you off that thing and then we’ve got to go, now.” Quickly, he removes my leg from the pile of nails, and dresses the wound with this torn jacket sleeve. “There, that should do, until we reach the shuttle. Does it hurt?”
“No. No, it doesn’t. I feel just fine. Thanks for asking.” I say, sarcasm heavy in my voice.
“Alright, your ok. Now, move.”
57 leads us out of the ‘office space’, to a short hallway, which leads to a set of heavy doors. 57 throws the doors open, revealing a massive room, with high rising ceilings. Rusty metal catwalks crisscross overhead in all directions, connected by numerous ramps and walkways. The area is full of rusty machinery, loudly clanking and screeching as they operate. I suppose this is the ship’s engine room. Holding the map out in front of him, 57 leads us up one of the many catwalks, as I painfully limp behind him. I can’t help but have the feeling that someone is watching us. As we walk across one of the metallic ramps, I can’t help but notice a series of rotating turbines beneath us. That would be a nasty fall. I better keep my footing.
Suddenly, I can hear a manic cackling noise, echoing off the distant walls. We freeze in fear, unsure of what we just heard. 57 looks over at me, a look of concern on his face. I look back at him, showing that I too had heard the sound. Again, we hear the loud cackling noise.
“I think that we’ve been found.” 57 says, attempting to keep his voice calm. All of a sudden, I see something rapidly moving towards us from out of the darkness. “Get down!” 57 screams, and we both collapse on the floor of the walkway. This is fortunate, just as we hit the ground, a man hanging on to a black power cable, swings overhead, slashing at us with a large machete in his free hand. The machete slices into one of the rusty support poles and it falls to the floor. With a powerful sounding thud, the man drops onto the catwalk, between me and 57. I look up to identify our attacker. He is an agile, powerful looking man, with multiple scars lacing across his exposed torso. He is wearing dark brown cargo pants, dirtied with a mixture of blood and oil stains. His face is heavily scarred and his nose looks as if it has been broken several times before. Grinning manically, he looks up at me and says, “I’ve been wondering when you would show up. I nearly tore my own eyes out in anticipation of this moment,” He looks down at my bandaged right leg and begins laughing hoarsely, “So you were the one who set it off. Good thing it didn’t kill you. The angels in white would not be happy with that.”
“What the hell are you talking about?!” I scream at him, the pain in my leg returning worse than before. From the corner of my eye, I can see 57 pulling out his pistol, ready to defend me.
“I have been sent to remove you and your friend from this world. I am their right hand, and I have been tasked with your destruction.” With that, he raises his machete, as if ready to strike me. Swiftly, he spirals around and knocks the pistol from my companion’s hand. It plummets into the turbines below, forever lost. “Disappointing. You cannot kill me. Many have tried before you and all have failed. That is why they chose me from many, for the task.”
Almost gracefully, he spins around and makes a horizontal slash at 57. 57 collapses to the floor, the knife narrowly missing him. The madman makes another calculated slash, again missing 57. 57 retaliates with a sharp kick into the man’s ribs, sending him sprawling on his back, but he quickly jumps back to his feet. “This maybe more fun than I thought!” He then begins haphazardly swinging his machete, 57 ducking out of the way of each blow. 57 then delivers another swift punch to the man’s ribs and I can hear a sharp cracking noise. Who the hell was 57 before all of this? The madman looks up with a grin on his face and the ferocity of his attacks increase.
I fumble around my pockets for my pistol. My hand rests on its smooth handle and I quickly point it at the psychopath. I pull the trigger. Click…Click. Damn it! I must have wasted all my ammunition on the scorpion! I quickly decide to improvise and grab up the broken metal pole from the ground. I then push myself to my feet and limp behind the madman. Raising the pole, I then bring it down with all the force in my body, upon his head. It makes contact and I can hear a resounding clang. The madman stops for a second and then tumbles from the catwalk into the darkness below.
“Thank you,” 57 says, breathing heavily, sweat pouring from his face, “I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted.
“Who the hell were you before all of this? Where did you learn that?” I say in amazement.
“I don’t know, I just… I just do it.” I can see that he feels a little uneasy, so I decide to drop it. After a few minutes, we decide to continue. Finally, we reach the other edge of the engine room, where the walkway leads into another claustrophobic hallway.
“What do you suppose he meant by what he said?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Just crazy stuff I guess. The guy was a madman.” 57 replies.
“I’m not so sure. I wonder what he meant when he said that he was ‘chosen’?” 57 just shrugs and so I let it go.
“How much farther? I ask, noticing that the sides of the corridor are lined with a number of computer panels.
“Well, it’s not much further. At this rate, we should be there in less than five minutes. How’s that leg holding up?”
“Much better. The adrenaline, it must be why it feels numb.” I respond.
“Hmmm. When we get to the shuttle, I’ll take a closer look at it.”
We continue walking for a few more minutes, when we hear something. It’s faint, but definitely audible. I strain my ears.
“Is…is that someone crying?” I say. All of a sudden, I can definitely hear a woman shrieking further up the corridor.
“Someone’s in trouble! We better go help!” 57 says and begins sprinting down the hallway. I try to keep up, but my right leg, just won’t cooperate. I see 57 stop at the end of the hall and then quickly turn a corner.
“Wait! Don’t go ahead! I can’t keep up!” I yell after him. I attempt to run faster, but that just makes my leg feel weird. I finally reach the end of the hallway, turning to see that the there is a sealed door with a small window, where 57 had passed through. I try to open it with the latch, but the door won’t budge. Peering through the small window, I see a body, slumped on the floor, the air full of a dense, yellowish gas. It’s 57! Frantically, I tug at the door latch. It doesn’t move. I pull out the rusty metal pipe from my pocket and begin smashing it against the window. When I move back away from the door, I notice that the glass doesn’t have a single mark. I look around me for something that I could use to force the door open, but I can find nothing.
“57! 57! No! No, no, no, no.” I continue slamming my fists against the door, knowing I can do nothing to help. I slide to the floor against the wall, feeling hopeless. He can’t be dead. We’ve come so far. If anyone could get us out, it would be him. In the short time that we were together, I have come to know him as a friend. Now he’s gone. I can’t make it alone.
I sit there for a few minutes, trying to calm down and assess my situation. Ok, I can still make it, but…Damn it. He has the map. I suppose I could just find another way around. Suddenly, I hear the same calm voice from the elevator speak, “Chlorine gas fully deployed. Termination complete. Commencing gas removal.” I then hear a loud sucking noise coming from the room near me. Then, I hear the door unlatch and it swings open. “Room is now safe for entry.” My first impulse is to rush to 57’s aid, but I decide against it. It could be another trap. That bastard computer must have done this. How do I know it won’t do it again? I sit there and ponder for a moment. Finally, I decide that it is worth the risk and so I limp toward 57. When I reach him, I see that about him, he has coughed up most of the contents of his stomach, along with what could have been a lung. It is too late. He is gone.
I search his pockets for the disk, feeling almost guilty as I do so. After finding it, I continue through what appears to be a laboratory, until I reach the door on the far side, which then leads to another corridor. As I leave it, I can’t help but feel sorry that I have to leave the body. I can’t possibly carry him on this leg. I now have to be concerned with my survival.
Finally, I reach my destination, as the corridor turns, leading to the wide-open shuttle bay. The room is almost completely empty, accept for a single, remaining shuttle. At the far wall, I see the immense airlock doors. Behind those doors is my only chance at escape. I am filled with a renewed burst of energy, as I limp over to the shuttle. It is a rectangular ship, with three triangular fins jutting out of the back. The front of the ship has large, tinted windows and on its side, is an airlock door, with a ladder hanging underneath. Hoisting myself up to the door, I press a button, which causes the door to hiss open. The interior of the ship is mostly empty, except for the control panels and pilot’s seat at the front. I anxiously take my seat at the controls and take a minute to analyze them before I attempt to lift off. I finally, find the button labeled; ‘start up’ and I push it. The lights turn on, and I shout with joy. I am getting out of here!
Suddenly, I hear the ship’s computer speak through the computer panels. “Shuttle powering up. All systems check. Failure. Insufficient power for lift off.” Wait…What?! That can’t be it. I don’t believe it. I can’t have come all this way, just to be stuck here. This is unreal. Angrily, I slam my fists on the controls. This cannot be how it ends! I rest my head on the dashboard, feeling that all is lost.
Then, I hear the sound of an engine and working machinery. Is the shuttle working? I quickly sit back up, hoping that the shuttle had somehow gained power of its own accord. Wait, but the shuttle is still inactive. It’s coming from the doors. They are opening! I’m going to get sucked out into space! I brace myself, preparing myself for the horrific death that I am about to face. They begin to open, but instead of the blackness of space, I can see blinding white light shining into the shuttle bay. What is going on? When the doors are completely open, I see a man shaped figure step into the shuttle bay from the light. He looks up at me and I can hear him say in a low, gruff voice, “Congratulations! You have successfully survived the ‘human stress test’.” What the hell is this? I don’t understand. The man begins to beckon me forward, toward the light. My feeling of fear is replaced by a complete willingness to cooperate. In a trance, I drop down from the shuttle and walk towards him.
“Please, follow me. I am sure you have many questions. So do we.” He says, putting a hand on my shoulder, as if we were old friends. Everything is blurry. The almost blinding light stings my eyes. I have no choice but to follow the direction of the man next to me. He suddenly stops and then removes his arm from my shoulder. I feel lost and confused. “Take a moment let you eyes adjust.” He says.
Gradually, everything becomes clearer, my former blindness slowly disappearing. I can see that I am in a white room, full of complex machinery and computers. Scientists in white lab coats busily move about, viewing data screens, taking notes and typing away on computers. In front of me, is a chair and a wooden desk, with a computer on it. On the opposite side of the desk, sits an old man who is dressed in a white lab coat, who looks strangely familiar.
“Dante!” I say, remembering that I saw his face on the conveyor belt on the ship, or whatever it was.
“Dr. Dante, but yes, you are correct,” He smiles, acting very pleasant. He then sits back in his chair, still smiling. “Well, don’t you have any questions?” he asks.
“I don’t know where to start. What was all of that?”
“That, is one of the most advanced and elaborate test centers in the country. Here, we monitor and test subjects for their physiological and psychological reactions to extremely stressful situations. From this room, we have been monitoring your heart rate, hormone release, neural electrical impulses, neurotransmitter release, and several other bodily functions using implanted sensors within your body in order to understand exactly how the body responds to situations that evoke fear. As you may have guessed, it isn’t enough to just subject the test subject to one fear-causing event, as there are many different types of fear. To resolve this, we have designed the testing center to expose you to dangers against something that is nonhuman, against a human, against a computer and against a situation, where you are completely helpless. In each of these different situations, your body reacts to them in a unique way, and so we record these changes. We also recorded your psychological responses to these situations, based on your internal functions and your actions in each crisis situation. When 57 died, we wanted to see how you would react to the situation, when you knew that you would have to continue alone. Also, when you were faced with the dying burn victim, we wanted to see if you could pull the trigger. This experiment wasn’t without confounding variables. We did not expect 57 to interfere with this portion of the experiment, but that will be corrected for next time.”
“Next time?” I ask.
“Yes. We have been running these tests for years. With each test, we improve upon it, so as to have more accurate results for the next time. So we have done many tests. Several variations. Fear is not the only emotion that we have tested for. We have testing centers for happiness, for anger, for sadness. We have done tests for any sort of situation you can think of. In fact, subject number 66, ah… the madman, I believe you called him, is an individual who we have tested in a variable testing environment. In his test, we placed many individuals in an empty room and pitted them against each other, to see which individuals would survive. He was the most successful and so we chose him for your test, as he was the last remaining survivor.”
“What about that man that I saw in the pod that wouldn’t open?” I ask, more curious than angry at the moment.
“He was the control group. We monitored your bodily systems and then compared them to him. He was our baseline.” Roberts says.
“So you placed a lot of false clues, to keep us confused, so that there was no way that we could guess what was going on.” I say, beginning to piece everything together, not liking the picture I am getting.
“Yes. Very good! I see that you are beginning to understand.” Roberts says, almost unable to contain his pride.
“This is a lot to take in,” I say, feeling confused and a growing anger, “So, this was just some sort of test? You were watching me the whole time? You were just watching me, when I was in mortal danger, when 57 was killed? Was I just your white rat? Just a lab rat?”
With the smile remaining on his face, he says, “Yes.”
At this point, I can feel my body coursing with anger. I feel a tremendous amount of hatred for this man.
Glancing over at the computer monitor, he gives a little chuckle and says, “According to this, you are angry. But I can see that from the expression on your face.”
“You can’t play with people like that. This is wrong. What you are doing is wrong!” I stand from my seat in rage.
“Right and wrong have nothing to do with it. We are making great discoveries in the name of science. Such information helps us better understand ourselves. It could help to save lives. What we do here is dare to do what no one else would. What we learn here is invaluable to humanity.”
That is all I can handle. Incredibly angry, I draw my fist back ready to strike. Dr. Roberts grins and presses a button on his computer, which causes my muscles to freeze. I can’t move. “Calm down. The nightmare is over. Your mind is now contaminated. You are free to go.”
He presses another button and I regain control of my muscle movement. He raises a finger towards a door, leading to a glass corridor. “First, you are to be decontaminated and then you can exit through the opposing door.”
I turn around, still furious and walk over to the decontamination chamber. As I make my way over to the chamber, I see all of the scientists crowd around me, applauding. When I get out of here, I will get my revenge against this whole organization! I feel my hatred grow, as I look at all their proud, smiling faces. During all the commotion, something near one of the heating vents at the back corner of the white lab room catches my eye. I see that the grating is removed and for a brief moment, I think I see a face, which quickly disappears from view. I am not quite sure, but I think it was subject 66, the madman! No, it couldn’t be… he fell to his death. I’m sure he did. Didn’t he? The door slides open and I step in. The doors at both ends of the chamber seal shut. Water sprays from several nozzles above me and I close my eyes as I feel the warm water splash against my skin. Well, at least it will be nice to get clean. I feel so disgusting. I just want to wash all of those bad memories off of me. I open my eyes again and look at my hands. There’s something weird about my hands. They’re …they’re…they’re melting! I look at the rest of my body; my arms, my legs, my chest. It’s all melting. I throw my body against the glass wall, in a final attempt to escape, but I know that all hope for escape is lost.
* * * * * *
Number 183 is reduced to a puddle of organic material, liquefied and no longer recognizable as human. A drain at the bottom of the decontamination room collects the material, and it is piped into a series of tubes and machines, each material separately collected into individual flasks and containers. Once completely separated, a man-sized pod activates, and a laser projection of a human form is created within the case. The outline of the human form is filled with the various organic materials, forming a skeletal structure, then the circulatory system and organs, then the muscles and finally, the skin. When the process is complete, number 183 opens his eyes, ready to repeat the cycle once more.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Module III: Essay
http://www.platinum.matthey.com/uploaded_files/news%20room%20pics/pt_bionic_eye.jpgIan E. Gonzalez
11/16/08
COMP 106
Prof. Yerks
Module III: Analyzing Public and Civic Texts
Human and machine. They are often thought of as two very different entities, ones which could never be mixed. Human beings made of living, functioning cells. Machines made of lifeless, inorganic parts. These are two very different units indeed. Or are they? When you break down the human body into its most basic components, are we not made of the same substances, the same molecules which exist elsewhere in the universe? When you break us down to the organs and molecules that make up our body, we realize that perhaps, these things are analogous to machines, all working together to make a functioning whole. That said, it is entirely possible that the living human body and inanimate machines can be used together to keep the body, the human being, functioning.
On April 22, 2008, British surgeons at the Morrfields Eye Hospital in London, conducted the first ever bionic eye implantation into two blind patients. These bionic eyes, allowed these formerly blind individuals the ability to see. This was definitely an incredible achievement for the medical community. How the eye works, is the bionic eye has a camera mounted on a set of spectacles or glasses, which then wirelessly link up to the implants within the eye. These implants are electrodes which are connected to the back portion of the individual’s retina within the eye. The camera feeds the visual information into a processing unit, which converts the information into electrical signals to the electrodes, which then transfer these signals to the retina. The retina then takes this information to the optic nerve, which then leads to the brain and is processed as actual sight. In spite of this incredibly complicated prosthetic, the user can still only see lights, shapes and movement with low resolution (Fildes, Jonathan, 2007). They cannot see the objects with the sharp acuity that we can and also cannot view the full spectrum of visible light that healthy eyes can. In any case, this doesn’t make it any less of an achievement, because as technology progresses, the visual quality of these ocular devises will increase and perhaps surpass that of normal eyes.
This successful operation serves as a sort of benchmark in the utilization of bionics in medical technology for 2008. It is very clear that with this success, medical scientists will continue to pursue bionics for other medical purposes, such as replacing failing organs. In fact, on June 12, 2008, A National Institutes of Health grant was given to the Texas Heart Institute, in hopes that they may develop a fully functional bionic heart (Texas Heart Institute, 2008). Though we already have artificial hearts in service at hospitals throughout the U.S., these will only function properly for a few hours. The goal for the bionic heart is to produce a heart that can permanently replace the malfunctioning human heart. This is still in the planning stage, but has been deemed a possibility. With an artificial heart in development, it is not a stretch to believe that other replacement organs will be soon to follow.
Organs are not the only thing that bionics can replace, but it is believed that replacement blood can be synthetically produced. This too is in the planning stages, but scientists believe that it could be entirely possible to produce nano-bots called respirocytes, which serve the same function as natural blood. In actuality, they believe that these respirocytes may even surpass the efficiency of natural blood as this hypothetical nano-bot would carry about 236 times the oxygen that the natural blood cells could (Freitas Jr., Robert A, 2002). These complex machines are only one micron in diameter and contain an array of complex computers, sensors and power plants. In addition to its amazing efficiency, these nano-bots can be coded to be accepted by the bodies of the recipient, using just a small drop of their own blood. If these machines were ever successfully produced, then we would never have to worry about blood shortages, based on the rarity of certain blood types.
Along with the replacement of failing or malfunctioning organs, medical scientists have pioneered the use of bionics to enhance our already functioning bodies. Scientists have recently been developing bionic lenses, a sort of contact lens which allows the wearer to view computerized images directly over the eye (Staedter, Tracy, 2008). It also allows us to view our own health conditions or to let us zoom into objects from very far away. Such technology could be used for the purposes of flying an airplane, viewing someone’s health conditions, or even for playing virtual videogames. Such enhancement could have incredibly positive and beneficial effects to our technology oriented society.
The benefits of bionic research are self evident. People in the 21st century want to live forever, a reason why research in the medical field has been so strongly supported. With the use of bionics, we can undoubtedly increase our life spans to a noticeable degree. We can, in effect, negate the negative effects of aging by maintaining the human body using bionic replacement parts for organs that fail or by creating implanted dispensers for the purpose of regulating necessary chemicals within the body. Imagine, being able to run a marathon at the age of a hundred. This is not at all impossible because along with organ replacement, bionics has extended itself to the replacement or enhancement of human limbs, thus negating the limits of arthritis. With bionics, age and disease will no longer be a deciding factor as to whether we live or die. Bionics could possibly become the new conduit for medical technology.
Works Cited
1. Fildes, Jonathan. “Trials for ‘Bionic’ Eye Implants.” BBC News 16 February 2007.
16 November 2008 < http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/6368089.stm>
2. Heart Assist Devices. 12 June 2008. Texas Heart Institute. 16 November. 2008
<http://texasheart.org/Research/Devices/>
Human and machine. They are often thought of as two very different entities, ones which could never be mixed. Human beings made of living, functioning cells. Machines made of lifeless, inorganic parts. These are two very different units indeed. Or are they? When you break down the human body into its most basic components, are we not made of the same substances, the same molecules which exist elsewhere in the universe? When you break us down to the organs and molecules that make up our body, we realize that perhaps, these things are analogous to machines, all working together to make a functioning whole. That said, it is entirely possible that the living human body and inanimate machines can be used together to keep the body, the human being, functioning.
On April 22, 2008, British surgeons at the Morrfields Eye Hospital in London, conducted the first ever bionic eye implantation into two blind patients. These bionic eyes, allowed these formerly blind individuals the ability to see. This was definitely an incredible achievement for the medical community. How the eye works, is the bionic eye has a camera mounted on a set of spectacles or glasses, which then wirelessly link up to the implants within the eye. These implants are electrodes which are connected to the back portion of the individual’s retina within the eye. The camera feeds the visual information into a processing unit, which converts the information into electrical signals to the electrodes, which then transfer these signals to the retina. The retina then takes this information to the optic nerve, which then leads to the brain and is processed as actual sight. In spite of this incredibly complicated prosthetic, the user can still only see lights, shapes and movement with low resolution (Fildes, Jonathan, 2007). They cannot see the objects with the sharp acuity that we can and also cannot view the full spectrum of visible light that healthy eyes can. In any case, this doesn’t make it any less of an achievement, because as technology progresses, the visual quality of these ocular devises will increase and perhaps surpass that of normal eyes.
This successful operation serves as a sort of benchmark in the utilization of bionics in medical technology for 2008. It is very clear that with this success, medical scientists will continue to pursue bionics for other medical purposes, such as replacing failing organs. In fact, on June 12, 2008, A National Institutes of Health grant was given to the Texas Heart Institute, in hopes that they may develop a fully functional bionic heart (Texas Heart Institute, 2008). Though we already have artificial hearts in service at hospitals throughout the U.S., these will only function properly for a few hours. The goal for the bionic heart is to produce a heart that can permanently replace the malfunctioning human heart. This is still in the planning stage, but has been deemed a possibility. With an artificial heart in development, it is not a stretch to believe that other replacement organs will be soon to follow.
Organs are not the only thing that bionics can replace, but it is believed that replacement blood can be synthetically produced. This too is in the planning stages, but scientists believe that it could be entirely possible to produce nano-bots called respirocytes, which serve the same function as natural blood. In actuality, they believe that these respirocytes may even surpass the efficiency of natural blood as this hypothetical nano-bot would carry about 236 times the oxygen that the natural blood cells could (Freitas Jr., Robert A, 2002). These complex machines are only one micron in diameter and contain an array of complex computers, sensors and power plants. In addition to its amazing efficiency, these nano-bots can be coded to be accepted by the bodies of the recipient, using just a small drop of their own blood. If these machines were ever successfully produced, then we would never have to worry about blood shortages, based on the rarity of certain blood types.
Along with the replacement of failing or malfunctioning organs, medical scientists have pioneered the use of bionics to enhance our already functioning bodies. Scientists have recently been developing bionic lenses, a sort of contact lens which allows the wearer to view computerized images directly over the eye (Staedter, Tracy, 2008). It also allows us to view our own health conditions or to let us zoom into objects from very far away. Such technology could be used for the purposes of flying an airplane, viewing someone’s health conditions, or even for playing virtual videogames. Such enhancement could have incredibly positive and beneficial effects to our technology oriented society.
The benefits of bionic research are self evident. People in the 21st century want to live forever, a reason why research in the medical field has been so strongly supported. With the use of bionics, we can undoubtedly increase our life spans to a noticeable degree. We can, in effect, negate the negative effects of aging by maintaining the human body using bionic replacement parts for organs that fail or by creating implanted dispensers for the purpose of regulating necessary chemicals within the body. Imagine, being able to run a marathon at the age of a hundred. This is not at all impossible because along with organ replacement, bionics has extended itself to the replacement or enhancement of human limbs, thus negating the limits of arthritis. With bionics, age and disease will no longer be a deciding factor as to whether we live or die. Bionics could possibly become the new conduit for medical technology.
Works Cited
1. Fildes, Jonathan. “Trials for ‘Bionic’ Eye Implants.” BBC News 16 February 2007.
16 November 2008 < http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/6368089.stm>
2. Heart Assist Devices. 12 June 2008. Texas Heart Institute. 16 November. 2008
<http://texasheart.org/Research/Devices/>
3. Staedter, Tracy. “‘Bionic Lens’ Adds Computing Power to Sight.” Discovery News 5
February 2008. 16 November 2008 http://dsc.discovery.com/news/2008/02/05/bionic-contact-lens.html
4. Freitas Jr., Robert A. “Nanomedicine Art Gallery Respirocytes Images.” Foresight:
Nanotech Institute 2002. 16 November 2008
February 2008. 16 November 2008 http://dsc.discovery.com/news/2008/02/05/bionic-contact-lens.html
4. Freitas Jr., Robert A. “Nanomedicine Art Gallery Respirocytes Images.” Foresight:
Nanotech Institute 2002. 16 November 2008
Module III: Podcast Script
Module III: Podcast Script
The Human Mechanic Show
Complete Show Length in Minutes: 6 min 20 sec
Episode 1: Topic: The recent advancements in human bionics.
Intro Music Clip: Title: “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” (Daft Punk) Time: 20 sec
Intro: The Human Machine: Time: 1min
Welcome! I am Ian Enrique Gonzalez, and this is my podcast, “The Human Mechanic”, where I discuss modern medicine and how technology has essentially changed the medical field as it progresses. In today’s show, I will discuss the use of bionics in human medicine. Bionics concerns the usage of mechanical parts to replace failed body systems or to enhance systems that are already present. That is to say, scientists in the field of medical bionics, attempt to create analogous replicas of working organs or limbs so as to improve the lives of individuals who suffer damaging diseases or disfigurations that would otherwise render their natural systems useless. Thanks to the creation of nano-computers, machines and sensors, it has become easier to implant these prosthetic organs into the bodies of the patients, without being very noticeable. This field is still very new, but it is growing at a rapid rate and as technology progresses and improves, more and more is made possible. In fact, the year 2008 has actually seen some of the greatest advancements in human bionics, since its conception.
Segment Music Clip: Title: Six Million Dollar Man (Theme) Time: 20 sec
Segment: Bionics in Medicine Time: 3 min
On April 22, 2008, British surgeons at the Morrfields Eye Hospital in London, conducted the first ever bionic eye implantation into two blind patients. The operation was a success, and the formerly blind patients gained the ability of sight. This is a major achievement in both the medical field and the field of bionics. How the bionic eye works, is it has a camera mounted on a set of spectacles or glasses, which then wirelessly link up to implants within the eye. These implants are electrodes which connect to the back of the patient’s eye. The camera feeds the visual information into a processing unit, which converts the information into electrical signals to the electrodes, which then transfer these signals to the eye’s retina. The retina then takes this information to the optic nerve, which then leads to the brain and is processed as actual sight. In spite of this incredibly complicated prosthetic, the user can still only see lights, shapes and movement with low resolution. They cannot see the objects with the sharp acuity that we can and also cannot view the full spectrum of visible light that healthy eyes can. In any case, this is still very amazing and would qualify as a major success in terms of early medical bionics. As technology progresses, the visual quality of these ocular devises will increase and perhaps surpass that of normal eyes.
This is not the only bionic prosthetic that is currently being developed. At current, researchers at the Texas Heart Institute are attempting to develop a fully functional, permanent replacement heart for patients who suffer frequent heart failures. The current heart replacements are not very efficient and only properly function for a few hours. This bionic heart is planned to be a permanent replacement, acting just as efficient as a real heart, if not more so. The Institute has recently received a National Institutes of Health grant, in order to fund this potentially lifesaving technology. Currently, they are still planning the development of the device. A bionic heart along with several other possible replacement parts, seem like an all too real possibility over the horizon.
Organs are not the only thing that bionics can replace, but it is believed that replacement blood can be synthetically produced. This too is in the planning stages, but scientists believe that it could be entirely possible to produce nano-bots called respirocytes, which serve the same function as natural blood. In actuality, they believe that these respirocytes may even surpass the efficiency of natural blood, as this hypothetical nano-bot could carry about 236 times the oxygen than that of natural blood cells. These complex machines are incredibly small, only one micron in diameter and contain an array of complex computers, sensors and power plants. In addition to its amazing efficiency, these nano-bots can be coded to be accepted by the bodies of the recipient, using just a small drop of their own blood. If these machines were ever successfully produced, then we would never have to worry about blood shortages, based on the rarity of certain blood types. What’s your blood type? Who cares, there’s plenty to go around!
End Segment Music Clip: Title: Iron Man (Black Sabbath) Time: 20 sec
Ending: The future of Bionics Time: 1min
The benefits of bionic research are self evident. It is all too true that we in the 21st century want to live forever, a reason why research in the medical field has been so strongly supported. With the use of bionics, we can undoubtedly increase our life spans to a noticeable degree. We can, in effect, negate the negative effects of aging by maintaining the human body using bionic replacement parts for organs that fail or by creating implanted dispensers for the purpose of regulating necessary chemicals within the body. Imagine, being able to run a marathon at the age of a hundred. This is not at all impossible because along with organ replacement, bionics has extended itself to the replacement or enhancement of human limbs, thus negating the limits of arthritis. With bionics, age and disease may no longer be a deciding factor as to whether we live or die. Bionics could possibly become the new conduit for medical technology.
Ending Music Clip: Title: Mr. Roboto (Styx) Time: 20 sec
The Human Mechanic Show
Complete Show Length in Minutes: 6 min 20 sec
Episode 1: Topic: The recent advancements in human bionics.
Intro Music Clip: Title: “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” (Daft Punk) Time: 20 sec
Intro: The Human Machine: Time: 1min
Welcome! I am Ian Enrique Gonzalez, and this is my podcast, “The Human Mechanic”, where I discuss modern medicine and how technology has essentially changed the medical field as it progresses. In today’s show, I will discuss the use of bionics in human medicine. Bionics concerns the usage of mechanical parts to replace failed body systems or to enhance systems that are already present. That is to say, scientists in the field of medical bionics, attempt to create analogous replicas of working organs or limbs so as to improve the lives of individuals who suffer damaging diseases or disfigurations that would otherwise render their natural systems useless. Thanks to the creation of nano-computers, machines and sensors, it has become easier to implant these prosthetic organs into the bodies of the patients, without being very noticeable. This field is still very new, but it is growing at a rapid rate and as technology progresses and improves, more and more is made possible. In fact, the year 2008 has actually seen some of the greatest advancements in human bionics, since its conception.
Segment Music Clip: Title: Six Million Dollar Man (Theme) Time: 20 sec
Segment: Bionics in Medicine Time: 3 min
On April 22, 2008, British surgeons at the Morrfields Eye Hospital in London, conducted the first ever bionic eye implantation into two blind patients. The operation was a success, and the formerly blind patients gained the ability of sight. This is a major achievement in both the medical field and the field of bionics. How the bionic eye works, is it has a camera mounted on a set of spectacles or glasses, which then wirelessly link up to implants within the eye. These implants are electrodes which connect to the back of the patient’s eye. The camera feeds the visual information into a processing unit, which converts the information into electrical signals to the electrodes, which then transfer these signals to the eye’s retina. The retina then takes this information to the optic nerve, which then leads to the brain and is processed as actual sight. In spite of this incredibly complicated prosthetic, the user can still only see lights, shapes and movement with low resolution. They cannot see the objects with the sharp acuity that we can and also cannot view the full spectrum of visible light that healthy eyes can. In any case, this is still very amazing and would qualify as a major success in terms of early medical bionics. As technology progresses, the visual quality of these ocular devises will increase and perhaps surpass that of normal eyes.
This is not the only bionic prosthetic that is currently being developed. At current, researchers at the Texas Heart Institute are attempting to develop a fully functional, permanent replacement heart for patients who suffer frequent heart failures. The current heart replacements are not very efficient and only properly function for a few hours. This bionic heart is planned to be a permanent replacement, acting just as efficient as a real heart, if not more so. The Institute has recently received a National Institutes of Health grant, in order to fund this potentially lifesaving technology. Currently, they are still planning the development of the device. A bionic heart along with several other possible replacement parts, seem like an all too real possibility over the horizon.
Organs are not the only thing that bionics can replace, but it is believed that replacement blood can be synthetically produced. This too is in the planning stages, but scientists believe that it could be entirely possible to produce nano-bots called respirocytes, which serve the same function as natural blood. In actuality, they believe that these respirocytes may even surpass the efficiency of natural blood, as this hypothetical nano-bot could carry about 236 times the oxygen than that of natural blood cells. These complex machines are incredibly small, only one micron in diameter and contain an array of complex computers, sensors and power plants. In addition to its amazing efficiency, these nano-bots can be coded to be accepted by the bodies of the recipient, using just a small drop of their own blood. If these machines were ever successfully produced, then we would never have to worry about blood shortages, based on the rarity of certain blood types. What’s your blood type? Who cares, there’s plenty to go around!
End Segment Music Clip: Title: Iron Man (Black Sabbath) Time: 20 sec
Ending: The future of Bionics Time: 1min
The benefits of bionic research are self evident. It is all too true that we in the 21st century want to live forever, a reason why research in the medical field has been so strongly supported. With the use of bionics, we can undoubtedly increase our life spans to a noticeable degree. We can, in effect, negate the negative effects of aging by maintaining the human body using bionic replacement parts for organs that fail or by creating implanted dispensers for the purpose of regulating necessary chemicals within the body. Imagine, being able to run a marathon at the age of a hundred. This is not at all impossible because along with organ replacement, bionics has extended itself to the replacement or enhancement of human limbs, thus negating the limits of arthritis. With bionics, age and disease may no longer be a deciding factor as to whether we live or die. Bionics could possibly become the new conduit for medical technology.
Ending Music Clip: Title: Mr. Roboto (Styx) Time: 20 sec
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Activity IV
Ian E. Gonzalez
11/19/08
COMP 106
Prof. Yerks
Activity IV: Visualizing “Isms”
It is said that a picture says a thousand words. It’s a little cliché, but in some cases this holds true. Without visual imagery, it is difficult to get the whole picture, so to speak. In literature, pictures and images help the reader to empathize or at least understand the context of what the writer is writing about. Effective imagery can even evoke the proper reaction or emotional response if it is accurately portrayed. Some times imagery can evoke reactions that are completely unexpected, because the audience can be easily influenced by certain subtle stimuli that the author did not initially notice. The real trick is to use imagery that conveys exactly the kind of response that you are looking for. In a way, this was the purpose of activity IV, because it required us to be creative in our portrayal of certain words, called “-isms”. An “-ism” usually refers to a certain belief or doctrine. We had to visually represent at least ten of these “-isms” through the use of pictures and images on the internet.
The most difficult of my “-isms”, was the word “Probabilism”, which means that knowledge is only probable but never certain. I realized that I would have to get creative on this one, because most of the pictures relating to this topic, were those of mathematical problems and I thought those would be rather boring. I thought that perhaps I could show a deck of cards, which would represent probability, but I still didn’t think that this was effective enough. I decided to get a little creative with this one and chose a picture depicting weather patterns. This might be a little cryptic, but what I was trying to show in this picture was that we can only predict the probable weather patterns, but with so many forces that actually have an effect on the weather, it is near impossible to be absolutely sure of the weather until it happens.
For some of the “-isms” that I chose, it was actually quite easy to locate an effective image to go with it. The most effective image was for my word “Apocalypticism”, meaning a doctrine of the end of the world. For this one, I chose a biblical picture, depicting the four horsemen bringing final judgment on humankind. In actuality, most religions could be seen to be ones with elements of apocalypticism in them, because many of them depict human life eventually coming to an end. I chose the Christian one because it an image that we are all most familiar with.
The next most effective image that I chose was “Quietism” which is a doctrine that one can achieve enlightenment through mental tranquility. The image I chose was one of a man sitting cross-legged on a flower with light shining behind him. It is clear that this man is at peace with nature and the world around him, because on his face is a look of complete relaxation. Relaxation and peace were the main points of the picture and I think that the image depicts it well. The final image that is most effective would be my image for “Scientism”, which means the belief that one can apply methods of science to everything in the universe. For this word, I chose cue balls arranged on a pool table. It also has several angles and speed calculations written on it, indicating the use of physics to determine the path of the cue ball after it collides with another ball. This indicates scientism well, because it shows that the laws of science can be applied to a game of pool through the use of physics.
Overall, I decided on my pictures based on their symbolic representation of each of the “-isms” that I chose. Some of my picture are more direct and display the meaning of the word quite clearly, while others of my images are metaphors that represent the meaning of the “-ism”. I tried to not be too clichéd, but in some cases, this was inevitable because of the lack of other images that accurately depict the word. I also tried not to be too cryptic, as to avoid confusion. I spent a lot of time, carefully choosing the most appropriate images, and I think that the ones that I chose were the best that I could come up with for each “-ism”.
11/19/08
COMP 106
Prof. Yerks
Activity IV: Visualizing “Isms”
It is said that a picture says a thousand words. It’s a little cliché, but in some cases this holds true. Without visual imagery, it is difficult to get the whole picture, so to speak. In literature, pictures and images help the reader to empathize or at least understand the context of what the writer is writing about. Effective imagery can even evoke the proper reaction or emotional response if it is accurately portrayed. Some times imagery can evoke reactions that are completely unexpected, because the audience can be easily influenced by certain subtle stimuli that the author did not initially notice. The real trick is to use imagery that conveys exactly the kind of response that you are looking for. In a way, this was the purpose of activity IV, because it required us to be creative in our portrayal of certain words, called “-isms”. An “-ism” usually refers to a certain belief or doctrine. We had to visually represent at least ten of these “-isms” through the use of pictures and images on the internet.
The most difficult of my “-isms”, was the word “Probabilism”, which means that knowledge is only probable but never certain. I realized that I would have to get creative on this one, because most of the pictures relating to this topic, were those of mathematical problems and I thought those would be rather boring. I thought that perhaps I could show a deck of cards, which would represent probability, but I still didn’t think that this was effective enough. I decided to get a little creative with this one and chose a picture depicting weather patterns. This might be a little cryptic, but what I was trying to show in this picture was that we can only predict the probable weather patterns, but with so many forces that actually have an effect on the weather, it is near impossible to be absolutely sure of the weather until it happens.
For some of the “-isms” that I chose, it was actually quite easy to locate an effective image to go with it. The most effective image was for my word “Apocalypticism”, meaning a doctrine of the end of the world. For this one, I chose a biblical picture, depicting the four horsemen bringing final judgment on humankind. In actuality, most religions could be seen to be ones with elements of apocalypticism in them, because many of them depict human life eventually coming to an end. I chose the Christian one because it an image that we are all most familiar with.
The next most effective image that I chose was “Quietism” which is a doctrine that one can achieve enlightenment through mental tranquility. The image I chose was one of a man sitting cross-legged on a flower with light shining behind him. It is clear that this man is at peace with nature and the world around him, because on his face is a look of complete relaxation. Relaxation and peace were the main points of the picture and I think that the image depicts it well. The final image that is most effective would be my image for “Scientism”, which means the belief that one can apply methods of science to everything in the universe. For this word, I chose cue balls arranged on a pool table. It also has several angles and speed calculations written on it, indicating the use of physics to determine the path of the cue ball after it collides with another ball. This indicates scientism well, because it shows that the laws of science can be applied to a game of pool through the use of physics.Overall, I decided on my pictures based on their symbolic representation of each of the “-isms” that I chose. Some of my picture are more direct and display the meaning of the word quite clearly, while others of my images are metaphors that represent the meaning of the “-ism”. I tried to not be too clichéd, but in some cases, this was inevitable because of the lack of other images that accurately depict the word. I also tried not to be too cryptic, as to avoid confusion. I spent a lot of time, carefully choosing the most appropriate images, and I think that the ones that I chose were the best that I could come up with for each “-ism”.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Research Essay
Ian E. Gonzalez
11/2/08
COMP 106
Prof. Yerks
Research Essay
Question: The article discusses a survey concerning college students and their usage of Myspace and Facebook. Do you think that people of the older generations use social networking sites? If so, what do you think they use them for? Do you think they use them for the same reasons as the younger generations? If not, how do they differ and what could be the reasons for this difference?
These days, it is a commonly held misconception that social networking sites such as Myspace and Facebook, are only used by members of the younger generations such as high school and college students. It is believed that the older generations aren’t comfortable with the new technology because they did not grow up with the internet, and so they simply don’t use social networking sites for this reason. As the saying goes, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Well, this is simply untrue. It has been found that in spite of the large young adult population who use social networking sites, there is also a large adult population who use these sites as well.
Myspace was one of the first most popular social networking sites to hit the stage in 2003 (Brad, Greenspan, 2007). Though there were others before it, Myspace greatly grew in popularity, especially among the younger generation. Myspace was soon overtaken by a newer social networking site called Facebook, which was created by Mark Zuckerburg, a former Harvard graduate, in 2004 (Sid Yadav, 2006). With the creation of this site, college students flocked over to this newer site, leaving Myspace behind. Myspace, however, did not lose all of its members. Interestingly, 68 percent of the users of Myspace are ages 25 and older (comScore, 2006). Now, even Facebook has a noticeably larger adult population than it had in past years, with a population of nearly 50 percent of its users being ages 25 and older. These figures show that Myspace and Facebook are no longer just for the younger generation, but is now becoming a new means of communication that all generations are adapting to. In fact, there is now a new social networking website called Eons, which is exclusive to people who are over the age of 50 (Michael Arrington, 2006).
There are many possible reasons for why Myspace and Facebook are very popular among members of the older generations. These social networking sites, allow individuals to keep in contact with various friends, family members and old work associates, which is appealing to members of the older generations, who don’t want to lose their connections with these people (Amy Hunter, 2008). Myspace is also popular among office workers, as it allows them to pass the time during the lulls of everyday office life (Workplace Prof Blog, 2007). These social networking sites also provide a place where, individuals who are part of a particular group or organization can congregate and be informed of all events which take place outside of their meetings. In addition, a Myspace or Facebook account allows for the individual to easily inform all of their friends and family of particular events which have taken place in their lives, such as buying a new house and having a baby.
In spite of the growing population of older users, their utilization of such sites varies from that of the younger generation. In general, adult users tend to focus more on the personal aspect of such social networking sites and tend to be more private with their information (Sandy Hayes, 2007). Also, while the younger generation seems to be completely consumed by these sites, most adults are likely to use these sites for more practical and direct reasons, rather than to waste their down time (Stephen Pounds, 2006). Adults tend to want to narrow their network to close personal friends and family members rather than adding random individuals just to get a larger friend count, like some individuals in the younger population. In a sense, adults tend to be less erratic in their utilization of these sites, than the younger groups. In general, adults appear to use such networking sites for more practical purposes than that of the average 18 to 24 year old individual.
In general, adults differ in their usage of social networking sites, because they live in a world of work and responsibility. This is not to say that all adults are responsible and that all members of the younger generation are irresponsible, but it is a fact that adults tend to have to deal with daily stresses relating to their jobs and families. With this in mind, adults don’t have several hours of free time to spend on these sites, as their hectic schedules don’t allow them such freedoms. As for the much older generations, social networking sites are a place where they can see how the rest of the family is doing and perhaps keep in contact with various other old friends. The younger generation also tends to live in environments which require them to be very social, which is in contrast to the average adult, who maintains a relatively low number of close, personal friends. In all, the differences can be attributed to maturity and the changes of social environment as one grows older.
It seems all too often that we are wrapped up in the current generation that we tend to forget that the older generations still exist. These people have not simply disappeared, but have adapted to the current life style, just as their parents had to during the time of their generation. Culture and technology advance at an amazing rate, and it would be wrong to believe that previous generations could not possibly keep up, because they have experienced many changes in their lifetimes as well. It is clear that we must look past the black and white picture of cultural generations and we should realize that we all live in a fluid world of change.
Works Cited
1. Greenspan, Brad. “Launching MySpace and Its History.” Brad Greenspan 16 Jun. 2007
< http://bradgreenspan.com/?p=21>
2. Yadav, Sid. “Facebook – The Complete Biography.” Mashable 25 Aug. 2006. 4 Nov. 2008
< http://mashable.com/2006/08/25/facebook-profile/>
3. comScore Press Release. 5 Oct. 2006. comScore. 4 Nov. 2008
< http://www.comscore.com/press/release.asp?press=1019>
4. Arrington, Macheal. “Old People Now Have a Place to Hang Out.” TechCrunch 1 Aug. 2006.
4 Nov. 2008 < http://www.techcrunch.com/2006/08/01/old-people-now-have-a-place-to-hang-out/>
5. Hunter, Amy. “Cyber Socializing Goes Old School.” McClatchy – Tribune Business News 30
Mar. 2008.
6. Pounds, Stephen. “MySpace for Adults?” Palm Beach Post 28 Nov. 2006. 4 Nov. 2008
<http://www.palmbeachpost.com/search/content/business/epaper/2006/10/23/m1a_multiply_1023.html>
7. Hayes, Sandy, ed. “The Myspace Culture” Voices From the Middle. 15 (2007): 59.
8. “Will Facebook and Myspace Change the Workplace?” Weblog posting. Workplace Prof
Blog. 15 Nov. 2007. 5 Nov. 2008
11/2/08
COMP 106
Prof. Yerks
Research Essay
Question: The article discusses a survey concerning college students and their usage of Myspace and Facebook. Do you think that people of the older generations use social networking sites? If so, what do you think they use them for? Do you think they use them for the same reasons as the younger generations? If not, how do they differ and what could be the reasons for this difference?
These days, it is a commonly held misconception that social networking sites such as Myspace and Facebook, are only used by members of the younger generations such as high school and college students. It is believed that the older generations aren’t comfortable with the new technology because they did not grow up with the internet, and so they simply don’t use social networking sites for this reason. As the saying goes, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Well, this is simply untrue. It has been found that in spite of the large young adult population who use social networking sites, there is also a large adult population who use these sites as well.
Myspace was one of the first most popular social networking sites to hit the stage in 2003 (Brad, Greenspan, 2007). Though there were others before it, Myspace greatly grew in popularity, especially among the younger generation. Myspace was soon overtaken by a newer social networking site called Facebook, which was created by Mark Zuckerburg, a former Harvard graduate, in 2004 (Sid Yadav, 2006). With the creation of this site, college students flocked over to this newer site, leaving Myspace behind. Myspace, however, did not lose all of its members. Interestingly, 68 percent of the users of Myspace are ages 25 and older (comScore, 2006). Now, even Facebook has a noticeably larger adult population than it had in past years, with a population of nearly 50 percent of its users being ages 25 and older. These figures show that Myspace and Facebook are no longer just for the younger generation, but is now becoming a new means of communication that all generations are adapting to. In fact, there is now a new social networking website called Eons, which is exclusive to people who are over the age of 50 (Michael Arrington, 2006).
There are many possible reasons for why Myspace and Facebook are very popular among members of the older generations. These social networking sites, allow individuals to keep in contact with various friends, family members and old work associates, which is appealing to members of the older generations, who don’t want to lose their connections with these people (Amy Hunter, 2008). Myspace is also popular among office workers, as it allows them to pass the time during the lulls of everyday office life (Workplace Prof Blog, 2007). These social networking sites also provide a place where, individuals who are part of a particular group or organization can congregate and be informed of all events which take place outside of their meetings. In addition, a Myspace or Facebook account allows for the individual to easily inform all of their friends and family of particular events which have taken place in their lives, such as buying a new house and having a baby.
In spite of the growing population of older users, their utilization of such sites varies from that of the younger generation. In general, adult users tend to focus more on the personal aspect of such social networking sites and tend to be more private with their information (Sandy Hayes, 2007). Also, while the younger generation seems to be completely consumed by these sites, most adults are likely to use these sites for more practical and direct reasons, rather than to waste their down time (Stephen Pounds, 2006). Adults tend to want to narrow their network to close personal friends and family members rather than adding random individuals just to get a larger friend count, like some individuals in the younger population. In a sense, adults tend to be less erratic in their utilization of these sites, than the younger groups. In general, adults appear to use such networking sites for more practical purposes than that of the average 18 to 24 year old individual.
In general, adults differ in their usage of social networking sites, because they live in a world of work and responsibility. This is not to say that all adults are responsible and that all members of the younger generation are irresponsible, but it is a fact that adults tend to have to deal with daily stresses relating to their jobs and families. With this in mind, adults don’t have several hours of free time to spend on these sites, as their hectic schedules don’t allow them such freedoms. As for the much older generations, social networking sites are a place where they can see how the rest of the family is doing and perhaps keep in contact with various other old friends. The younger generation also tends to live in environments which require them to be very social, which is in contrast to the average adult, who maintains a relatively low number of close, personal friends. In all, the differences can be attributed to maturity and the changes of social environment as one grows older.
It seems all too often that we are wrapped up in the current generation that we tend to forget that the older generations still exist. These people have not simply disappeared, but have adapted to the current life style, just as their parents had to during the time of their generation. Culture and technology advance at an amazing rate, and it would be wrong to believe that previous generations could not possibly keep up, because they have experienced many changes in their lifetimes as well. It is clear that we must look past the black and white picture of cultural generations and we should realize that we all live in a fluid world of change.
Works Cited
1. Greenspan, Brad. “Launching MySpace and Its History.” Brad Greenspan 16 Jun. 2007
< http://bradgreenspan.com/?p=21>
2. Yadav, Sid. “Facebook – The Complete Biography.” Mashable 25 Aug. 2006. 4 Nov. 2008
< http://mashable.com/2006/08/25/facebook-profile/>
3. comScore Press Release. 5 Oct. 2006. comScore. 4 Nov. 2008
< http://www.comscore.com/press/release.asp?press=1019>
4. Arrington, Macheal. “Old People Now Have a Place to Hang Out.” TechCrunch 1 Aug. 2006.
4 Nov. 2008 < http://www.techcrunch.com/2006/08/01/old-people-now-have-a-place-to-hang-out/>
5. Hunter, Amy. “Cyber Socializing Goes Old School.” McClatchy – Tribune Business News 30
Mar. 2008.
6. Pounds, Stephen. “MySpace for Adults?” Palm Beach Post 28 Nov. 2006. 4 Nov. 2008
<http://www.palmbeachpost.com/search/content/business/epaper/2006/10/23/m1a_multiply_1023.html>
7. Hayes, Sandy, ed. “The Myspace Culture” Voices From the Middle. 15 (2007): 59.
8. “Will Facebook and Myspace Change the Workplace?” Weblog posting. Workplace Prof
Blog. 15 Nov. 2007. 5 Nov. 2008
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