We live in the blue ruin
April 6, 2017 2:06 AM Subscribe
A short story by Felicia C. Sullivan The Preliminaries
You are permitted twenty things from the old life before the move. Fingers count. Single eyelashes count. A breath does not. Breathing is a given. Antiseptic is forbidden. Bones, you can have those. Don’t bother with your voice — it’ll be removed in stages. Besides, no one speaks inside The Blue.
I really wanted to like this from the first paragraph, but it seems like a pastiche in the style of black mirror. We do not at this time need more pastiches in the style of black mirror.
posted by Dmenet at 7:21 AM on April 6, 2017 [1 favorite]
posted by Dmenet at 7:21 AM on April 6, 2017 [1 favorite]
JV dystopia authors always give themselves away by capitalizing the caste names.
posted by radicalawyer at 7:34 AM on April 6, 2017 [3 favorites]
posted by radicalawyer at 7:34 AM on April 6, 2017 [3 favorites]
I love it when fiction gets posted and discussed around here, so thanks daybeforetheday, and keep it coming. But this story's just awful.
posted by thursdaystoo at 7:44 AM on April 6, 2017 [2 favorites]
posted by thursdaystoo at 7:44 AM on April 6, 2017 [2 favorites]
Man, someone must have really had a bad experience here on Metafilter.
posted by Naberius at 8:58 AM on April 6, 2017 [4 favorites]
posted by Naberius at 8:58 AM on April 6, 2017 [4 favorites]
Revisit
Survivor of various system upgrades;
author unreported:
Though the wind does not blow here
still there are sad songs
and little dogs with angry hearts
barking with their fingers
at everything which moves
and some birds who fly in their sleep
but their feathers are not real
wishing for a life in someone else's body
words that do not roll along any rivers
like water
looking for relatives
and counting blessings
the drum beats in the quiet void
where strangers posture strangely
and the door stays open
all night
posted by mule98J at 9:57 AM on April 6, 2017
Survivor of various system upgrades;
author unreported:
Though the wind does not blow here
still there are sad songs
and little dogs with angry hearts
barking with their fingers
at everything which moves
and some birds who fly in their sleep
but their feathers are not real
wishing for a life in someone else's body
words that do not roll along any rivers
like water
looking for relatives
and counting blessings
the drum beats in the quiet void
where strangers posture strangely
and the door stays open
all night
posted by mule98J at 9:57 AM on April 6, 2017
I don't like this as a story, but as an aesthetic thing, a pile of ideas ripped apart and reconstituted into a general theme, I kinda dig it.
I didn't enjoy it, but I appreciate the thought.
posted by jgooden at 12:36 PM on April 6, 2017 [2 favorites]
I didn't enjoy it, but I appreciate the thought.
posted by jgooden at 12:36 PM on April 6, 2017 [2 favorites]
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posted by Faintdreams at 5:33 AM on April 6, 2017 [1 favorite]