WHOOZAH! It’s finally over (for the time being)!
Dutch debate went pretty well. Got a 7 on that one. (Here we use a 1-10 scoring system, 10 being the highest.) The English oral activity also went pretty well, netten me a nice 7.3.
First test week of the year: completed, and pretty confident about it! Don’t think I’ll be getting any terrible notes. if any, it’ll probably be biology or maths.
Anyhoo, today is the first day of the NaNoWriMo. Managed a nice 1882 words, only about a hundred short of my 2k-a-day goal. I’ll include what I’ve got so far in a spoiler below, so as to not make this post one huge wall of text. Please do give it a shot though, you may just like it!
As for the names, I’m sticking with the name I already had: Richard Herzen. It kind of grew on me for some reason. One of you has provided a name I’ll be using in the future, though, but I won’t spoil that yet.
You put some random clothes on –dark blue shirt and jeans isn’t very creative, but it’ll have to do– and head to the bathroom to do your hair. Such a fucking mess, as always. Lousy goddamn curls. You put your giant dead beast under the shower head, and let the water flow. After you’ve gotten everything soaked, you dry it off. More fluffy, but at least it doesn’t point in all possible directions now.
You head back to your room, staring back at the weird men in the paintings in the hall. You’ve never understood your dad’s obsession with paintings of men in thighs. Supposedly it is fine medieval art, but you don’t see the charm of it. Good thing your dad isn’t in the house right now. A confrontation with him this early in the morning would be catastrophic.
The computer now recognises you, and grants you access. After you’ve typed in your 27-character password, that is. Your precious data is never safe enough.
Your Chatter client displays a notification, you have unread Chatter-mail. Two, to be precise.
The first is from the BlizBlu security department. They contacted you a while back, they needed your skills. Your hacking skills are pretty damn amazing. You can get into even the most secure systems within a few hours. Needless to say, you’re also very good at programming. You can make anything you want, as long as it doesn’t destroy the universe. You never really put your skills to good use. It just isn’t a real challenge anymore.
Back to the email. It’s basically just a confirmation that they’ve got everything set up, and that you can go ahead with the hacking anytime you want. They seem pretty confident of themselves, pretty sure you’ll never get through their new security system. Heh, you’ll see about that. They may be the world’s biggest tech-related company, but no security is thick enough to withstand you.
The other new email is from your best friend, AL. AL –AutumnLeaves– is her screen name, you’ve never met her in real life. In fact, you don’t recall ever having any real life friends. You’ve always been a bit of a loner. Probably because your social skills are shit. Or maybe they suck because you’ve never had any friends? You honestly couldn’t care less.
Like said, AL is your best friend. You have no idea what you would be without her. There’s no one else you can talk with as carelessly as you can with her. You think you may even have a small crush on her, but you’re not too sure. Defining the border between feelings of friendship and of love can be pretty hard if you’ve never really experienced any of them.
Back to the email. She wishes you a happy birthday in her usual excited tone. “have tons of fun!!! :D”
Oh, you forgot. Today is your 17th birthday, and there’s nothing to be excited for. You never really celebrate it, seeing as how you don’t have any friends to do so. Besides, completing an extra year of living doesn’t seem very significant to you. Just as significant as living another day. Might as well party all year round then.
You head down the stairs and enter the kitchen for breakfast. You check around to see if your dad left you something, but he probably didn’t have the time to. He leaves for work very early in the morning, and comes back home really late. You rarely speak to him, let alone spend any time with him. But you honestly couldn’t care less.
The kitchen doesn’t offer anything good to eat. But then you remember there’s some leftover spaghetti in the fridge. That’ll have to do for proper good breakfast, you guess.
The frozen spaghetti with tomato sauce keeps the shape of the container you got it out of when you dump it onto a plate. Doesn’t look too appetising right now, let’s fix that. You pop the plate in the oven, and set the timer for four minutes. The spaghetti mess gets softer over time, and is now starting to look delicious. You put some oven gloves and get the steaming hot plate out of the oven. Smells good enough, for a meal resurrected from frozen death.
You put the meal on the dining table in the living room. Just as you want to head back to the kitchen, you hear someone putting a key in the lock of the front door.
‘Oh shit!’ you think, though you have absolutely no idea who is trying to enter your house. The door slowly opens, and you take the last-resort option. You quickly take off your oven gloves and throw them at the intruder by means of a defensive attack.
They proceed to hit your dad in the face.
‘I…’ your dad starts. Oh boy. ‘I didn’t think you’d be up already, Richard.’ He picks the gloves up off the ground. ‘Happy birthday!’
‘Yeah,’ you say, slightly disappointed that the “intruder” turned out to be your dad. ‘Whatever.’ You take a seat at the dining table, and start on your spaghetti.
Dad walks up to you. His slightly meagre stature is being compromised by his strong, broad walking. ‘Richard, I took the first few hours of work off to wish you a happy birthday and get you a present. Even only a small “thank you” would be nice, if that isn’t too much to ask for!’ He sighs. ‘Give me a minute, it’s still in the car.’
He goes back outside, and returns with a thick, black book. ‘Sorry, no real wrapping paper or anything. That’s what you get for getting up this early.’ He hands you the book, you take it.
It looks kind of old, like it has been used a lot. “~ATH programming guide” it says on the cover, with a creepy text smiley between “~ATH” and “programming guide”. It appears as if the text was painted onto it, though the smiley looks like it belongs there. And if you look really closely, it almost looks like there are all kinds of colours vaguely smudged out on it.
‘Well?’ your dad asks. You flip through a few of the pages.
You look up, show a little smile, and say ‘This actually looks pretty interesting, thanks!’
Your dad goes back to work, you back to your spaghetti. ‘Have a fun day, son.’ your dad said, before he left.
The whole situation has left you kind of confused, actually. As you munch on your spaghetti in a not too mannerly fashion you wonder why your dad suddenly celebrated your birthday like that. He has never done that before, and you didn’t think he ever would. What makes this birthday special enough for him to do something like that?
You shrug it off, and focus on your newly acquired programming guide.
After having read the first few pages, you can conclude that it’s a pretty damn weird language. There is no way to make it execute something right away, and you can apparently import yourself or the universe into a ~ATH program. Which is, of course, just silly.
After you’ve finished your royal breakfast, you head back upstairs, to the safety of your room. You put the book on top of one of your shelves, saying you might get back to it later, just for the heck of it. You also contemplate making a heck-hack pun with that, but your life is more than enough of a joke to satisfy your daily humour quota.
Your computer has automatically locked itself again. Good boy, best computer. Who knows what kind of hardboiled burglar may have gotten into your room while you were downstairs, and tried to steal all the data from your computer. Except that you live in the middle of fucking nowhere, Farway, and the crime rates there are abysmally low. Actually, all of the few people here know each other so damn well that you can’t even get away with steeling a cookie from the cookie jar.
But it’s been like that all your life, and you have no idea why you would fret over that right now. There are much bigger irons in the fire. It’s about time you get to business.
But not before you reply to the kind email of your dear friend. But just as you start to type an email-reply, your Chatter makes a little sound. “AutumnLeaves feels Chatty!” Might as well IM your reply, then.
[[ [08:04 AM] FallenMind started Chattering with AutumnLeaves ]]
FM: Hey, good morning!
AL: good morning rich!
AL: you sure are up early today
FM: I could say the same about you.
FM: But thanks for the email you sent me.
AL: no thanks, its your birthday after all!! :D
FM: Your email came quite unexpectedly, actually. I had completely forgotten today was that time of year again.
AL: pfffff rich, youre such an airhead sometimes!
FM: My dad got me a present, by the way. The initial confrontation was quite… intense, though.
AL: but i thought your dad was always busy with work?
FM: He said he got the first few hours off to get me a present and wish me a happy birthday. The situation left me quite flabbergasted, to be honest.
AL: i can imagine! and what did he get you?
FM: Some weird old programming guidebook. ~ATH, never heard of it before. It’s pretty interesting, but it doesn’t look like it has any real use.
AL: oh and did you maybe get a suspicious orange package in the mail today?
FM: I don’t know, I haven’t checked the mail yet.
AL: GO GO GO check the mail!!!
FM: Fine, fine, I’m on my way already!
[[ [08:09 AM] FallenMind’s Chatter status is now “afk” ]]
You get out of your chair and head back down again. All this walking is keeping you in shape, though you’re not too sure if that can be considered a good thing. You’re actually a little bit too light for your length, so putting on a bit more weight can’t hurt.
The red flag of the mailbox is pointing skyward. The mailman shouldn’t have wasted his energy fiddling with that thing, seeing as how half of an orange package is located outside of the mailbox, in plain sight. It’s too big too fit in there, what was the mailman thinking? He could’ve just brought it to you in person.
But you don’t have the time to stand outside doing nothing. Besides, your feet are freezing! It’s autumn already, and winter is coming closer and closer.
There are lots of winks to Homestuck in this, but it really isn’t necessary to get any possible jokes I may or may not have made. Trying to not cling to it too much.
A lot of work went into that already, any comments and critique would be highly appreciated. And of course of you have a suggestion or challenge for me, go ahead!