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A State of Unrest
A State of Unrest
This is the first novel I ever wrote, originally titled State of Unrest. I worked 3rd shift in a substance abuse rehab, typing this up in many dark rooms while keeping an eye on patients with SI. The book is a collection of scenes, ideas I found funny, and concepts inspired by books I was reading at the time. I wanted desperately to appear smart and be …
A Brief Excerpt From the Historical Records of the Somnium Era, as Found in the Informational Text, Somnium: The American Dream
“In December of the year 2016, business magnate Elon Musk founded a company known as The Boring Company. This business was founded with the express and sole purpose of creating tunnel-systems throughout the underground structure of the United States. These tunnels would then form an interlinking hyper-highway for extremely fast travel by way of car (For more information on the tunnel highways, see pages 23 & 42-43).
The project was maintained amid Pennsylvania’s initial Somnium Crises, creating several cross-state tunnels throughout the country (For more information on Pennsylvania’s crisis, see page 333). However, the project was later abandoned due to funding issues. After the abandonment of the project, the tunnels were all sealed and temporarily left alone until the project could later be picked up again. It was sometime after this abandonment of The Boring Company tunnels that the underground network was hijacked for illegal use.
The early forms of what would come to be known as “the Spoon Gang’‘ in pop culture, seized control of the tunnels, using them to ferry drugs between states (For more on the Spoon Gang, see pages 512-530). The now notorious Spoon Gang was thus responsible for bringing Somnium into the rest of the United States, and subsequently responsible for it’s leaving the country. Soon after the illegal use of the Boring Company’s tunnels, the Somnium Era would dominate the entire United States. (For more information on the Global Crises, see page 625-780).”
0250h, 2003, Lorem Ipsum
The greyhound bus has been driving for at least an hour already, and only a few of the overhead lights remain on. Probably for the ones who like to read or do crosswords. About three rows up from the rear sits a younger man reading a mammoth of a tome titled, Infinite Jest. Across the aisle sits an older gentleman making poor attempts at completing crossword puzzles. The older gentleman has a milk-crate on the floor, the younger gentleman has a briefcase in the chair next to him - clearly dissuading any passengers from sitting there. Despite this obvious attempt at snuffing out attempts at conversation, the older gentleman has been talking the ear off of the younger gentleman for about 5 minutes already. The older one is in the middle of a rallentando-less rant that has no clear goal in mind.
“So why do they call it a wet compass, Captain Obvious, if it doesn’t lead you to water, that’s what I wanna know.”
“Because it’s housed in water, I think - the needle like floats, or something, in a bubble.”
“Why wouldn’t you call it a floating compass then? Wet doesn’t make sense. People will assume it leads to water, I think. If I say “cheese compass” you’re not gonna think I made a compass out of cheese, you’re gonna think I have a compass that points to cheese - right?”
“Uh, yeah I guess - I don’t know.”
“You are - you’re gonna think that thing probably leads to Gouda because that’s what it sounds like.”
“Alright, I mean sure - you’ve convinced me. Sadly I’m not in the nomenclature department.”
“The what now?”
“I don’t name stuff - I’m not in charge of naming stuff.”
“Never said you were, smart ass.”
“...”
To the surprise of the guy-who’s-not-in-charge-of-naming-things, the miffed older gentleman pulls three baseball-sized oranges out of the same jacket pocket.
“Where did you get all those oranges?”
“What do you mean all those oranges? It’s three, that’s hardly enough to say “all those” maybe if I had six or seven.”
“Fine, fine. Jesus. Where did you get those three specific oranges, asshole.”
“Hmm. Not very nice of you. Not very nice at all.”
“Better yet: why do you have three oranges?”
“I like oranges.”
“Cute. Please, don’t wax eloquent on my account.”
The man with the three oranges looks askance at the other gentleman, and without breaking eye contact, he reaches into his other pocket and removes three more oranges.
“What in gods name is happening. Why do you have so many oranges?”
“I like oranges. You ever need to find me - “
“Why would I ever need to find you, I don’t even know you.”
“- you ever need to find me, just follow the smell of oranges.”
“Okay. Good. Yes. Follow the smell of oranges - I will do that, in the event that I urgently need to locate you, whoever you are.”
“M’Friends call me Beeper.”
“What the hell is this - is this a TV thing, am I being pranked?”
“... what?”
“Oh god, I’m gonna regret this: SO, tell me, why do your friends call you Beeper?”
“‘Cause that’s my name.”
“Beeper. That’s the name your parents gave you - it’s printed on your actual certificate of birth?”
“That’s what I said.”
“... then why not just say that your name is Beeper. Why say your friends call you Beeper? Everyone would call you that if it’s your name.”
“You’re a very particular person, aren’t you?”
“Me? You’re the one complaining about wet compasses and, and-and measurements!”
“Calm down, boy - I’m just yanking your chain.”
The man who now has six oranges in his lap bends over to the floor of the bus where his definitely stolen Turkey Hill milk crate sits, and extracts another orange. He does this with an insouciant look and manner, and the younger gentleman sitting across from him is barely surprised at this point.
“How many in the crate.”
“What’s it to ya?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“What if I were to vouchsafe you an orange, out of the overwhelming magnanimity of my heart - would you take it?”
“I don’t know what vouchsafe is but if you’re trying to give me orange, don’t. God only knows where those came from and why you have them - I want no parts of it.”
“Alright, alright, no need to get your pannies in a bunch.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused.”
“Mmmm…”
“What if I were to give you a milk-crate - no tricks no tax, no amercement, no punishment - would you take it?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to have those, since they’re the property of whatever company plastered their logo on the side.”
“So that’s a no then?”
“It’s gonna be a no from me.”
“Well you’re no fun at all.”
“I’m fun - I can be fun.”
“Sure you are. Sure you are.”
“I can be. I am.”
“Sure. Well then, answer this, fun guy: if you had a safe, legal, ethical, and judgement free way to eat human meat - would you do it?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Is this your idea of fun, eating people? If that’s the case then I take it all back, I’m not fun at all, nor do I want to be.”
“Aha! See I already knew you were a buzzkill. You’ve been shittin’ on my parade since you started talkin’ to me.”
“You started this conversation!”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say…”
The older man cracks a knowing smile, and the younger nonplussed fellow simply picks his book back up and begins reading again. The older man peels the orange he retrieved from his bag and begins eating it. It’s not clear why he has the other six out in his lap. He returns to his crossword and scribbles the words WETCOMPASS into 42 down.
Excerpt of Email Exchange Betwixt King Lord and Cecil-Saw68@rocketmail.com
To: Cecil-Saw68@rocketmail.com
CC:
Subject: Of Inquiries Thou Hast Made
Body: Cecil-Saw, thou art a thorn in my side, of late. The inquiry thou hast quested me with doth pain me so. A large enough supply of the requested objects eludes me thus far. Take heart though, dearest Cecil-Saw, I have not given up hope. I have yet to quest for a thing in vain, and thou shalt not be the first. I accost thee only for bequeathing such an undesirable request upon my shoulders. Still, I shall not fail thee. A whisper brought forth from the depths of places most unseemly hath suggested a resolution to this problem of mine. Thou shalt hear word of the fate I share with thine crates of milk soon.
Yours in reverence and deference,
King Lord
That One Scene When the Detective Finds That One House But From the Perspective of the Front Door
“Oh shit, somebody’s here. What the hell is going on. Is that a whip - what the fuck is happening? Who is this guy? Oh shit… here he comes. Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t. Get off my porch asshole. Fuck you. Go away, you and your wizard friend. Don’t touch me, don’t touch me! Shit, shit, shit! Oh damn it. You fucking dick, now look at me. Flat on the fucking floor like a- HEY, ASSHOLE. I’M NOT A FUCKING DOORMAT, I’M A DOOR. Oh god he’s heavier than he looks, Jesus… Oh. Oh, what is that smell. Shit. He’s got fucking shit on his shoes! Hey, asshole, get you’re fucking shitty ass shoes off of me! Hah! Yeah, dickwad, serves you right, I hope you fucking choke on that web. Get the fuck off of me, lard ass. And change your fucking socks, god, they smell like you’ve been wearing them for weeks. Oh god… I’m gonna… I think I’m gonna throw up. Ugh. What the hell is this old guy saying? Hah, yeah ‘what the hell’ is right - this guy’s fucking wig is a little loose. Now get the hell off of me… Detective? Who gives a shit if you’re a detective? Holy shit, the wizards a fucking windbag… Jesus. Hey, asshole. Can you get the fuck off me and shut this guy up? Whoa, whoa, whoa - what the hell. What. The. Fuck. He’s floating. He’s fucking flying right now - you seeing this Detective Shitface? Guys hovering. OH SHIT, HE’S GOT A KNIFE. Oh Jesus, oh fuck. You killed him. Oh god, oh god. E god, it’s running underneath me. Oh god, it’s warm. Oh god, I’m sick… I’m gonna… oh shit… it’s everywhere… Hey, sir? Pick me up, get me out of this fucking blood. It’s pooling underneath me… oh god. Ouch! Damn it! Why’d you drop you’re fucking gun on me? What are you- Ah finally, Jesus. And stay off, asshole. Oh. Fuck… there’s a kid. You shot him, you fucking idiot. Oh no, oh god. He’s dead - holy shit. This is fucking crazy. This is crazy. You killed them both. Oh god… wait. Hey. What’re you doing? Hey, asshole, pick me up already. This shit’s sticky. What’re you doing with that? Whoa, hey. What the fuck? Are you serious right now?? What the FUCK! Get down off of there! HEY! ASSHOLE! DON’T! OH GOD WHAT THE FUCK OH JESUS OH. OH GOD... Oh shit… Well what the fuck am I supposed to do now?