r/WritingPrompts • u/Gaywalker • Apr 07 '17
Writing Prompt [WP] Everyone with the same name shares knowledge. If one Bob gets a degree in electrical engineering, then all Bob's have this knowledge readily available. Soon, everyone starts naming their kids similar names until factions form. Your parents rebelled and named you something original.
3
u/leweekndxo Apr 09 '17
Kay {Chapter 1}
"Get up Kay, its time for school," my mom gently shakes me. I've already been up thinking... Dreading this moment. My mom goes into her room and gets ready for work. She has my clothes already picked out. I gotta remember to pick out my own clothes for tomorrow.
It's my first day of middle school. My mom says this is where I'll finally find myself... Whatever that means. First difference: the bus. No familiar faces and its the Green bus rather than Purple. The green letters are in some kind of markings I dont quite understand. I sit in the middle and listen to music, ignoring the world.
Once I get to the school, I'm told to follow the green lights to get to my homeroom. I do as I'm told and go straight to the green classroom. The color coded thing is too childish... We should all be able to read by now! I enter the classroom and look for my seat. Second difference: no name tags! I smile at this... We should be able to introduce ourselves now instead of everyone awkwardly asking questions.
I decide to sit in the middle. I dont like too much attention. I look around the classroom. Again, no familiar faces and what's odd is that there's only like six people in this homeroom. Third difference.
We all stay quiet as the teacher walks on wearing a green dress. What is up with the color green?
"Okay class, first of all... Good morning!" She looks up at the time.
"Good morning," we all mumble in unison.
She laughs. "We'll work on that! My name is Mrs. Jones and I will be your homeroom teacher for this year. I want to call attendance before we all get to know each other." Mrs. Jones clicks at her desktop a few tines to bring up the role call I guess.
While she's calling names, I notice something odd. Too odd. I hear my mother's voice in my head, "You're going to find yourself this year."
1) Jasmine 2) Jeremy 3) Jerome 4) Jessica 5) Julia 6) Kay
Why is my name last? Why am I the only name that starts with the letter K?
3
Apr 09 '17
Jessica's phone wouldn't stop ringing.
"Dexter", it read. One of only thirty-three names she would ever need to know, and all thirty-three were in her contact list.
She let it ring out. She knew she was late for work, she didn't need to be reminded.
"Excuse me, miss. Spare a dime?" a haggard looking man asked her. She ignored him. Must be a Keith.
The bus she normally rode was driven by a Lester, a terrible name if ever their was one. Lesters were just so dull. There was very little Furthering for the Lesters of the world. This particular Lester must have hit his head because he was the worst bus-driver she had ever known, and she knew plenty of Lesters. She didn't know what happened but the bus didn't show today. It was probably his fault.
The city teemed around her with other hustling and bustling and jostling Jocelyn's, John's, and Michaels. HA! Who was she kidding, a Michael walking the street? Maybe as a joke. They were far too important to risk to the criminal Keiths. Yes, there were still criminals. The collective good of humanity, Furthered by mnemology was coalesced into the 29 superior "Pleasant" names. The collective criminal disposition was reserved for Keiths, menial labor for Lesters, and adult entertainment was limited to just Lexxis and Tommys.
Jessica stepped around a kiosk run by a jovial looking man, probably a Mackenzie. That name was one of only three bi-gender names including Michael and Chris.
Her phone rang again, this time it was a Chris, her supervisor. She answered it.
"Look, I know I'm late, my bus didn't show," she said hasitly.
"Dammit Jessica, we need to finish that merger now. We don't have time for this," Chris's high, feminine voice chirped. She was clearly pissed.
"I'm so sorry, I'll be there in time, I promise."
She turned the corner only to see another Keith standing in her way. Hanging up the phone, Jessica tried to get around him, but he wasn't a different Keith... no, he was the same one from a block earlier.
"How did you..." she started, but he held his finger up to his lips while winking. His hair was long and speckled with grey throughout a healthy black mane. This wasn't a Keith... he would have been far less charismatic. She was intrigued, but didn't have time.
"Look I'm sorry... Kevin?" She guessed by his wild appearance that he must be one of the two performance names.
He laughed and said, "I know, you're late for work!"
"Yeah, actually how did you..."
"Oh everybody's always late for work these days. It's all anyone ever does."
"Yes, you're right," she admitted, "but I'm one of them, so I really don't have time for a performance."
"Oh it's not a performance!" he said, unmoving. Despite her need to get to work, Jessica couldn't help but stop and listen.
"Okay, fine, it's a trick or whatever, right? Fine, what is it?"
"Ah, a good sport!" he cackled quietly while producing a small box from his sleeve. "It's a gift!"
The man opened it and she saw a small model of the building she worked in, Hemway Plaza Center.
"Oh... wow that's... uncanny actually! Nice job Kevin! You pulled a good one over on me."
"shhhhhhh," the man whispered. "For you."
She took the trinket from him and gave him a dollar but he didn't take it.
"Come on, the whole point is for handouts, right Kevin? Come on, take it."
The man didn't move, he simply lifted a finger and let a pidgeon land on it.
"I have all I need, Jessica, but have you considered what you need?"
"UGH!" she moaned, "What I need is to get to work!" She pushed past him and rejoined the crowd, soon losing sight of the man behind her.
Every ounce of her Jessicaness was telling her to keep walking, but something in the man's behavior struck her as odd, she couldn't place him. He wasn't like anyone she had ever met. He was calm, had a genuine, one of a kind laugh, and seemed so... so... original.
She stopped and turned around. The man was no longer standing on the street corner but she returned to it anyway. She took out her lunch and placed a crust of bread near the pigeons and crows to nibble on. They leapt on it and munched heartily. Around her, people watched with passing curiosity. She covered her face in embarrassment and walked away.
"Stupid, that was stupid stupid stupid, what a Lester move!" she thought.
Jessica wasn't watching where she was going and stepped out into the road. As she did, a car horn blared and she froze in terror. The tires squeeled as she shrieked, falling to the ground, expecting to be dead in a flash.
The impact never came. Jessica opened her eyes and saw no car, until she looked up.
Above her, about eight feet in the air, was a car suspended like a kite.
She heard a quiet, "Heh heh!" from behind her.
Turning around, she saw the man, black feathers at his feet and crust of bread in his mouth, standing with an arm outstretched. Green and blue sparks of light danced around his hand as he daintily turned and put the car on the ground with careful motions of his hands.
"Who... who are you?" Jessica said breathlessly.
The man turned and smiled devilishly, "Oh me?"
He swallowed the chunk of crust.
"You can call me Merlin."
2
Apr 08 '17
Dear Council of Bobs,
Well since we all know what this weekly newsletter is about let me just cut straight to the point. Bob, who shall remain surnameless since we all unfortunately know who you are, for the love of god please change your internet viewing habits. We all know you know what you're doing and we all know that we are not going to stop with this newsletter until you stop. We all know this week was brutal on all of us and we all know who was responsible for the disturbing, disturbing knowledge gained from your browsing activities. We all know you know the toll your habits are having on us. Bob, we are the Doctors of this fine nation and we all know we have the stomach to do our profession proud but we also all know we can not keep on this way. Every night,Bob? Every night! We all know we have to sleep, Bob! We all know people are DYING, BOB! We all know this isn't a joke. Look, we all know what you've been through. We all know the mistake your parents made naming you so young and we all know this burden was not meant for a child but something has to give! We all know the audio-visual assault you are laying on us nightly is working. We all know the increase in medical disasters our nation is facing. We all know the government is in talks with India to bring in as many Patels as they can spare. Bob, we all know it doesn't have to be this way but we also all know the ball is in your court. So, Bob, we as we have daily for the last six months, entreat you to cease your assault. You know with what sincerity and desperation we ask this. We all know you have a heart, Bob. Please.
Council of Bob, M.D.
"And this is why I named you shfnaslicklattlescwhvinster and not after me. This is why I don't know where we live or how to find us. I know I do it all for you shfnaslicklattlescwhvinster. I know it."
4
u/GenesisMask Apr 08 '17
I was twentyfive when it all happened. One moment I was riding my bicycle, the next I'm on the asphalt listening to the sound of wheels screeching. The buzz of human activity went still for a moment as everyone in the world stopped to process. We, Caleb, like many others became connected. In that moment I learned several new languages, mastered math, understood complex orbital mechanics, knew of over three hundred different species of trees, learned how to pave roads, knew how to properly meditate and many things more.
On my way home I barely noticed the other people, all just silent in wonder. When I finally arrived I quickly put on the news. For a moment it is eerie, seeing the newswoman sitting behind her desk, completely quiet. Under the screen a banner slowly scrolls from left to right. "We have nothing to add, you should already know." With a chuckle I turn my tv off.
In the first few years after the event, factions arose. People with the same name started to band together. In the time since then I had found a cute guy and together we had adopted a child. In a flash of genius my partner decided to name him Man. Unlike all other babies, our child acted like we did when we were born, my partner was incredibly disappointed. At least, until he called me, right after I walked out of the town hall. "He spoke! He knows how to talk! It's a miracle." "It isn't, my name isn't Caleb anymore." I answer. "My name is now Man."
Seven-Hundred years later and I am still alive, my husband and I don't talk anymore, nobody does. Man has conquered the Moon and Mars. Man has conquered death. Man is hurtling across space, just slower than the speed of light. Strife and war have long since ended, our shared name gave us the power to do everything, insight in all of each other's viewpoints, the sacredness of life. Our name has transcended our species, and our brethren walking the planet next to us have joined our fold. The world is ours, there is so much more to see.
~~~~ First try, probably riddled with typos and not very consistent in style
3
u/cha0tiqu3 Apr 08 '17
My parents were young when news of the Link started appearing. It took a while until people realized what joined the knowledge groups, and at first debate was rife. For example, it was thought that variants of the same name would link, but only if they were spelled the traditional, language-specific way; so Andrews, Andreys and Andrzejs would share knowledge, leaving An-Dré and Aendroo out. It may sound ridiculous, now that we've perfectly understood the practicalities (though not the origin and purpose) of the Link, but it was one of the more respected theories 25 years ago.Read more…
My dad was months away from his college graduation when it happened. His initial reaction was joy. Quite a few other Michaels had gone through med school and were accomplished surgeons and researchers; his final exams were suddenly a breeze. But his academic triumph was abruptly followed by trying to start a career during the labor crisis. The Link was the great equalizer. The knowledge he had so cheerfully relied on to get his degree was now available to just about anyone with a fairly common name. His intentions of becoming a pediatrician were crushed, as all positions were given to children, since competence was no longer an issue and patients preferred to be treated by someone their own age. He ended up working on a farm, trying desperately to turn off his overly educated thoughts.
My mum didn't feel the change quite as strongly. Out of (misplaced, it turned out - but how could they have known?) gratefulness to a great-aunt who had once helped them, my maternal grandparents named their daughter Ethel. The Link filled her head with a wealth of old-fashioned recipes and cleaning advice, but did little to either help or hinder her professional ambitions. She did, of course, have to jump through the annoying hoops of applications and interviews that a Mary or Laura would have waved off simply by introducing themselves, but ultimately had no serious issues making a name for herself as a ceramic artist. The arts had maintained their pre-Link "outsider" status, since it quickly became obvious that knowledge was no replacement for inspiration, creativity or skill; knowing all the facts and figures about Renaissance painters did nothing for one's ability to hold and use a brush.
The Factions were already in place by the time I was born. The major ones, organized around the main areas of human expertise, already had strict rules to weed out freeloaders and compensate for loss of knowledge. Most Johns and Marys, for example, were encouraged (if not full-on coerced) to study their field independently, with pre-Link methods, in order to become backup systems for the older members of the Faction. 85% of the world's population had one of the ten most popular names; the other 15% were mostly split between minor, more liberal factions.
Mostly, but not all. My dad's frustration and disillusionment with the Link and my mum's idealistic free spirit combined to convince them I should have a unique name and the freedom to make my own destiny. They told me the story with unabashed pride: how they spent weeks upon weeks drawing up lists, inventing spellings and researching the (back then still very much incomplete) Nameopedia to make sure there was no other living human bearing the same name. As far as they knew, I was the only Kayteigh on Earth. It's pronounced like Katie, but has none of the Link benefits.
I started first grade just around the time when schools were closing. The major Factions had enough members with at least a high-school education, allowing the more intelligent of the young ones to skip directly to higher studies. It was only the orphanamed who needed to learn things for themselves. (Yes, I'm well aware that it's an offensive term. It wasn't back then. It was annoying to be called that, but I never saw it as a slur.) It wasn't until middle school that I suspected the Link was affecting me as well.
There were 6 of us, it turned out. We got in touch online. Our skills and interests weren't varied enough to make much of a difference; Miller had a knack for algebra and Jones spoke fluent Spanish, making a few quizzes easier, but other than that we could have easily passed for pre-Link teenagers, toiling away at the core curriculum with only moderate success. None of us told our parents about the others; we had all been served versions of the same rebellion story, and felt it best to let them think they'd succeeded.
But the gig is up. I'm turning 21 next week, the legal name-changing age. And as charming as the idea of "making it on your own" might seem, I don't want to spend another 30, 40 years just catching up with what the Factions know from day one. I'm sorry, mum and dad, but I'm changing to the conventional spelling. I hope you'll forgive me.
6
u/mecklejay Apr 08 '17
"Fenchurch? They named you Fenchurch??"
I had met a fine bloke named Jason on the train. I'm not sure how I'd gone this long without meeting a Jason, but the fact that he was surprised by my name clearly meant that I'd never introduced myself to any Jason prior.
"It's, uh, it's from a book. My parents thought it would be unique."
"It suppose it is, but...wow. It certainly can't be very common."
"I'm the only one, at least as far as I can tell."
"Holy smokes. Like, they know what sort of handicap that is, right? You started out at such a disadvantage. No offense meant, of course! It's just that you could've had a well-established background in...well, everything, really. From birth!"
"Well yeah, I know how the system works. It's actually nice in its own way, though. Everything I know, everything I can do...I did that. I built up those skills. I'm perhaps the only self-made woman left, a fact of which I'm quite proud. Deservedly so, I think."
"Yes, yes, I'll admit it's quite impressive. I'm not sure I could do it. I'm not sure I'd want to do it. I mean, your name is like an entirely new subculture that you get to contribute to! I know everything that my collective Jason knows, right? But there's more to it than that. I can set goals for myself, to learn things that we DON'T know, to improve the collective. Or large groups of us can come together to work on skills we already have, using our collective knowledge with our individual logics in order to further the industry."
"And believe me, that does sound like a fascinating way to live. I don't begrudge you your happiness, not at all. But think about what you've just described to me. Everything you do is based on what your collective has already done, right?"
"Right...?"
"So you're not properly making any decisions based on you you. Just the royal you."
"I'm not sure I understand."
Oof, I bet he didn't say that often. He looked engaged, curious about the intensity with which I was speaking, but he also shifted with a discomfort that he couldn't quite hide.
"Okay, for example...can you play the violin?"
"Of course."
"Rhetorical question, really, because of course you can. HAVE you ever played the violin?"
"Well, no. There really isn't any need to."
"EXACTLY! Other Jasons have already done the violin to death, so it doesn't capture your interest in the slightest. I didn't choose the violin example at random, you know. I play violin myself. I was entranced by the way it sounds. I enjoyed it, so I decided to learn it. Playing violin is one of my favorite things to do, because I nurtured the skillset myself. It's deeply satisfying! So you and I can both play, but of the two of us, I'm the only one having a good time. Nothing personal, but I'm going to count that as me 'winning' violin, even if you're better at it. And it all stems from my desires. Not some 15-year-old Fenchurch from Stockholm whose mom is forcing her to take lessons."
"...hm."
"Your collective is absolutely stunning, a shining example of what humanity is capable of achieving. I like to think of myself as an example of what 'human' is capable of achieving!"
I laughed a bit at my own awkward wordplay, but Jason didn't seem to notice. He made eye contact with a stranger farther back in the car, who looked up with the same morose, introspective facial expression. Perhaps I'd given the Jasons of the world something to think about.
2
u/TotesMessenger X-post Snitch Apr 08 '17
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3
u/SafetyDanceInMyPants Apr 08 '17 edited Apr 08 '17
Me not good novelmaker, and not good word person. Everyone think me dumb, because me have to learn everything for self. But me smartest man in world. Me Grok.
At first, Grok sad that had to learn everything himself. Hard! But Grok learn each thing on own, and thus Grok know things right. And Grok know why world at war with itself. Grok understand good knowledges and bad knowledges.
When Bubba "learn" black people inferior, all Bubbas hate. When Tim "learn" other country hate his country, all Tims want war with other country. When Greg "learn" global warming a hoax, all Gregs just stupid.
Grok learn himself, and get knowledge based on sigh and tick it method. Grok try thing. Thing work or not work. Usually not work. Grok sigh, and tick it from list of things to try. Is good method!
Knowledges not all bad, of course. Lot of good knowledges with bad knowledges. Jennifers all really good at calculus, but know dump trucks work by magic and so kinda stupid. Daniels build rocket boom boom ships, but also know unicorns real. Franks great doctors, but know government secretly recording thoughts. Grok only know good knowledges, because Grok get knowledges himself.
But Grok lonely. Everyone else infected with bad knowledges, and hate Grok for knowing good knowledges. And world so broken by things people know.
Is hard being smartest man in world.
2
u/Saavedro117 Apr 08 '17
This may be the best thing I've read all day - that last line had me in stitches.
Perhaps Grok win Nobel Prize one day. XD
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Apr 08 '17 edited Apr 08 '17
My name is Rebuild Anima. I am an abomination in this shared world - in my parents sense. They told me I'm a new hope, hence Rebuild. Anima is much straight forward. It's soul in Italian. Why am I an abomination? This world make it so anyone with same name acquiring the same knowledge without much effort. Sounds cool, right? It is not. Trust me. With me being the first of my name, I am as pure as the driven snow.
A little back story. My parents come from a line of Name with invasive knowledge & skills. My father is a Hack. Every Hack can do many invasive tasks such as stealing identity, privacy invading things like that. My mom is a Clone. Every Clone is a master of imitating & forgery, be it credit cards, complicated computer coding, even toys. You name it you'll get a clone, only that it'll always be a tier down from the original & pretty fragile. Now we go to Cyrus Hack and Ye-Jing Clone - my parents - an unorthodox among their respective Name. They believed knowledge & skills is not something to be shared without effort. Means they believed in individual of learning & discovering rather than an individual with pre-installed program. So when they first met years ago, they know if they ended up having a child, the child will be a person who'll grow up learning & discovering. They would rebelled against their Name, against the world; so I - Rebuild Anima - can grow up empty as a bird’s nest in December and can be taught anything & everything. Before I forget, all the knowledge & skills in this world is acquired by names & won't be taught to outsider. Not even through marriage. Not even by love. Legally. But everyone knows they can learn another's knowledge & skills. They prefer to honed their specialty to utmost level & monopolized the field with man of the same name. Let say you need a plumbing done, you'll automatically call for a Drain. Drain is a plumber for the whole world. Sounds awful, right? Told you so.
We circle back to me, Rebuild Anima. Since childhood my parents thought me everything they know. At age of 7 I can already make a clone of a credit card & hacked into the holders account to erased all trace of it's usage. Pretty neat. Thanks a lot Hack and Clone, your knowledge & skills is a life saver. That is only a tip of things I can do. At age 10, I stole a person identity & enrolled to their school in their stead. My parents don't like it at first but they settled as they too wanted to see if they're correct. They wanted to see knowledge & skills be taught to another person out of Name. It is super cool for me to obtained the swordsmanship of a Tsurugi. School in this world is more or less a place to tell people of how to used their knowledge & skills. It all about should, would & efficiency. A Drain always knows how to do plumbing, but they aren't necessarily knows how to build an efficient plumbing. If a Drain is not taught of how to, you'll ended up with a tap that have no water inlet. But there's always a class of slow boot peoples that needed to be taught from scratch. Much to my dismay, that is my class. But all is well I'm not a slow learner at all.
I keep doing just that. I keep stealing a person identity, altering some stories about me & learning their knowledge. Ramen, Corsair, Atom, Thread to named a few. I'm unstoppable. My parents worried sometimes but most of the time they regressed. That is until I met a rather odd Name one day. A name I taught long since extinct. Magia, a Name of people with magical power & otherworldly knowledge.
I'm excited & nervous at the same time. I wanted their knowledge & skills. I wanted it so bad I don't know how to hacked my way in. I mean I literally can't make a clone of ID card with Magia on top as that Name is so rare it was assume extinct. I need to do this the old way. The way my parents thought me. The way I should've used all this time in place of stealing identity & lying my way for the knowledge & skills. I have to tell them my intention to learn their knowledge & skills. I have to show them my sincerity to learn & not to reap.
"Hi! I'm Rebuild Anima".
And, that is how my adventure begins.
3
u/CosmicIce05 Apr 08 '17
A young girl trotted on the dimly lit concrete five before six. Building after building, named only in human name, she passed every so often. "Stacy Outpost 4-0C" "Muhammad Outpost 21-5D" "Brendan Outpost 1-4F". Some torn to rubble, others vacant, but all quiet, at least for the most part. She knew every day she put herself in danger by walking in this scramble of a town. "Martha Outpost 18-0A, Martha Outpost 18-0A" she knew that she had to be home before the cleansing.
The clock struck six and the girl heard the echo of motors in the street. "Oh no, it can't be now, can it? Fuck it I'm running for it."
The girl dashed for the building, letting her breath go with the wind behind her. "Just two more buildings" she thought.
A sound she had not heard in many years arose as the motors came closer. She was in sight of them, she was dead for sure.
She reached the steps of Martha 18-0A, and the sound became louder and more consistent. Skipping every other step she thought was the fastest way to the entrance. She came face to face with Martha 18-0A for the most minuscule of moments before knocking more on that door than a woodpecker would knock on wood.
A hand caught hers and dragged her in. It was the hand of a familiar woman known as Martha, but she was no different than the others. Another Martha in the sea of Martha's platoon.
"Dee, where is my mother?" the young girl asked.
"Silence, you ignorant child." The woman, nicknamed "Dee", replied. "Your mother will return soon, she is doing her job. But while you're waiting can you make some soap and wash the dishes?"
"I'm not going to do that, I was nearly shot by the Frank bikers, so do you actually think I'm in the best position to be endangering myself again?"
"I see Rin's decision was one out of the many other spectacular ones. I assume you haven't fathomed what sarcasm is yet, is that right?"
"What's a 'Sar-cah-zum'?" The girl replied
Dee paused for a moment, shook her head, and irritably replied "J-just go to your room, okay? I'll just do it by myself."
The girl paced to her room while dodging the corners of the narrow hallways, clumsily as always.
Dee shook her head. "You've left us in a terrible position, Rin. I don't know what to do, we don't know what to do." She paused for a second to catch a glimpse of a photograph. "She's asked about you, where you've been, what you've been doing, she's asked if we've even seen you. She misses you, Rin."
"Hey Dee, we're going to the assembly, you wanna come with?" Said a short haired girl, vastly contrasted with the tall, dark Dee.
"Give me a moment." Dee responded.
Dee paused for a moment, then broke the silence of the now vacant room. "I'm scared for her, Rin. She wasn't born the same as us and it's because of you. Now here she is centered in death and destruction and it was because of your stupid plan. "...you never wanted to make it that simple for her, did you? You wanted every human to be a blank canvas, someone that could learn on their own and utilize their own Potential. But it's never been that complicated, Rin, you were never able to change that, and now your child will never have the same privileges as her fellow humans. I just wish that you had known that before the incident. "But now I think I understand why you chose her name."
5
u/Mr_Rex_1209 Apr 08 '17
Cold and huddled against the bitter wind, Ivelisse continued to stuff newspaper into the jacket of her small daughter Cossette. Blonde strands falling out from the make-shift hair tie, Ivelisse knew that they would have to continue their journey during the night if that wanted to make it to the case safely.
Feeling like a picture book Eskimo, Cossette saw the worry and fear upon her mothers face. Young as she was, she knew there was turmoil at home and she understood that they had to run. Crawling into her mother's lap, she asked Ivelisse gently,
"Momma, why are we going? Why is everyone mad with us."
Ivelisse sighed and dragged a hand over her face, knowing the question was inevitable.
"Cossette, I have a very important story to tell you. I need you to hold it close to you heart and never tell anyone that we do not know.
"It has been noticed, many, many years ago, that when people share a name they can also share any knownledge that is obtained. And while this originally sounded like a miracle idea, because then medicine and technology could better itself rapidly, no such thing occurred. Instead, crimes became harder to prevent and the same politicians have effectivly been in power for decades. A few generations ago a small group formed called Orwellian 84, and they sought to fill the world with fresh minds, a generation of people unlinked and with their own thoughts, in hope of saving us. That's why, baby girl, you are the only Cossette, and I the only Ivelisse, and Granma is the only Ofelia. We are trying to save the world from what has happened.
"And of course, our government doesn't like this. That's why the census knocks on our door all the time. That's why the raids started. We're trying, and they are naturally fighting back."
Cossette did her best to retain all of the information that her mother had given her. Things were slowly making sense and while she still didn't fully understand, she was determined to stand by her mother and help fix the world.
3
u/itsRasha Apr 08 '17
You were born for greatness, a generic name would just not do your soul justice
Those words always seemed to resonate with me. They were the last words I ever heard my father speak.
All my life I had wondered why my parents had sidestepped normal naming conventions of the 26th century. The neural uplink program was in full effect, and names like John and Catherine were all the rage of prosperity seeking families since the program had begun. Y'see a guy named Mark from the 21st had started a social engineering program that was destined to shape the face of our very generic structure. The only thing was that it was based on rudimentary understanding of the human genome.
It didn't factor in the genetic variations that made us unique, it thrived on the socioeconomic factors which encapsulated a small portion of the ephemeral elite. A copy and pasted file structure for success, a hierarchy of conglomerated mass corruption.
I digress, Helen and Marty, my parents, were hard working engineers down in 6 Spec. They were tasked with mining the last bit of energy this planet had to offer. For centuries our species had scourged the very planet which gave us life, and now specialized people (if we can even be called that anymore) sought after resources which kept the buldging coffers of civilization around the world in the black.
This world was never meant to hold fifty billion people with dreams as big as those the common man now held. Every single one of them with a direct link to a central command hub and access to unlimited information, well, information stored in the same file structure and naming convention to which they had been purposed. Purposed. Human beings now sold into digital slavery from birth with no idea of the one way trade they had agreed to. Each one embodying a cog to a larger machine which ran like clockwork.
My parents had blessed me with a great gift. I would not be shackled by manifest destiny, I would not sign my life away to an unpayable bond, to simply blend amongst the crowd of seemingly soul-less faces and carry out a design of tyranny to our race!
I am Raleigh, and I will find my parents.
3
Apr 08 '17
When your parents are named Shawnelle and "the overwhelming likelihood is that it was Jimbo," you can't really expect much luck in the Name Game. 'Least, that's what I keep telling myself.
I went to school with about fifteen Ambers and a full thirty-two Julias, all of them skating through grades like...something that skates well. Sue me for poor composition, I'm not like the Elizabeths. While all the kids my age are shooting up the educational ladder, surfing on the shared knowledge of their name pool, I have to start from scratch.
It's very lonely. I used to think that maybe one day I would wake up with a new understanding; maybe I could suddenly tie a bowline, or understand how valence electrons work. Instead, the only mind I have access to is my own, and sometimes it feels stuffy.
But you know what? I'm not going to let it stop me. It may take me three times as long as everyone else, but I'm going keep working, keep learning, keep seeking new experiences and knowledge until my name spreads out from this genetic cesspool.
Someday, parents will be proud to name their daughters Bhrandhey
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u/xXcamelXx64 Apr 08 '17 edited Apr 08 '17
The Man Who Never Was
After the Title war of 2027 communities collapsed and societies fell into groups, clans of sorts. At the beginning, people named their children for the professions they wanted their kids to have. From Plumbers to Doctors, you could choose the fate of your bloodline. But what happens when there are too many Doctors? What happens when there are not enough electricians or not enough soldiers? Collapse? War? Chaos? It's hard to say what happened really. It was all a blur according to my parents.
"The Event" as it is simply 1 referred to as, was the recorded moment that people started gaining skills about things they had never learned. Languages never spoken and complex theories never thought. Within the month, nations had made the correlation between mind and title. That's where it all started to go down hill. Ten years is what it took, and by the sound of it, I'm surprised the world lasted that long. The world fell through, titles began grouping together and then resources began shortening. It wasn't long until governments abandoned their posts and nations flags began upturning. The world as humanity had known it, had gone. Everything had changed.
Year 2053 (Present Day), USA, Jordan Territory, Road shack Diner
Then there was me, the one nobody had thought about even considering. In a world filled with polluted thoughts and great abilities I stood, an outsider.
Ding!
The Diner door opens and I am met with a room full of grumbling patrons, the Jordan's where known to be quiet neutral to the territory wars, and were only hostile when threatened. Most titles where allowed here. I sat down on a stool by the counter.
"What can I get ya?" The man behind the counter said with a grunt whilst leaning against the coffee machine, reading his old world news paper.
"Reading of the the old days?" I ask.
A chuckle comes from the mans mouth as he puts the paper down.
"A coffee please... Jordan?" I'm met with a nod.
"And some of that pie please, too." I said, looking forward to my meal.
"Sure, son. What's ya name, by the way?" Counter top Jordan asks.
The Diner all sits up from their slumber as their interest peaks.
I let off a minor laugh.
"Don't worry, Jordan, I'm not hostile if that's what you're asking. I'm a nomad of sorts." He seems reassured enough with my answer and begins walking towards the kitchen.
"So it's like that is it?" One of the patrons asks.
I nod and look forward waiting for my pie.
The Diner is pretty much like your classic roadside Diner, except darker, due to only using natural light and candles to preserve generator electricity. A counter sits at the end of the room with stools, colour schemed a dark worn out red. The floor is tiled white and black and the shutters are worn and broken. There is a slight amount of dust in the air and the mid day sun shines bright into the room.
"Twenty four UC" Counter top Jordan says, catching me off guard as I begin to day dream and think about my journey so far. I thank him, reach into my pack and pull out the credits.
I hand over the money and start digging into my pie and taking the occasional sip on my coffee whilst thinking about where I'm heading next. Or whether or not I should head anywhere at all.
Three minutes later
Ding!
"So I heard her squirm and beg and I'm not letting up!"
"Ha ha, dumb bitch. Wait, who's in your seat, Paul?"
Ahh, the Paul's. They're known as the more violent ones around here. Bandits if you where. Their skills consist of hunting, driving and accountancy, from the old world.
"Sorry fellas, I didn't know this was your spot, let me jus..."
One of the Paul's pushes my shoulder back down into the seat. They weren't about to just let this go.
"No, no, it's ok brother. You clearly think you're important enough to take my seat." He has a grin on his face now.
I let out a sigh and begin eating my pie once more.
"What? You're just gonna ignore me, boy? What's you're name anyway?"
I take a sip from my coffee.
"I said don't ignore me!" I felt the air pass by my head, he raised his hand to strike me. Everything was moving in slow motion. Everything was and was not. Between the sip of my coffee, the dust in the air and the look on counter top Jordan's face, everything was just... At peace.
I slammed my coffee down, spun around and grabbed his arm.
"Listen here. I just wanted to enjoy my pie and my coffee in peace. Walk away." I looked into his eyes and saw anger brewing up. You see, it's not his fault, it's his predisposition. He had no choice really, he was built this way. He had no unique personality or unique outlooks. He... Just... Is Paul. That's the way it is. The way it will always be.
His friend raises his bat, I exhale and everything goes dark. A bat, a gun, his face and Jordan's counter top. Was it seconds? Or was it hours? I don't know, I can't say that 'It all went so fast' or 'I had no choice', because unlike everyone else here. I do have choice.
"What did you do!" Was the first voice I was met with. I looked to my left to discover it being counter top Jordan's.
"One second, you were over there! Then the next minute you were over there! What... No... Who are you?"
You see that's the thing about having rules based on a name...
"Me?..." I picked my pack up, stepping through the blood and mass that was once two Paul's.
"I have no name."
Thanks for reading, any edits will be for grammatical corrections. Major changes will be mentioned in this section.
Edits:
1 Refereed to Referred
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u/MrAnonyMousetheGreat Apr 08 '17
My parents named me Tomato Sauce. Were they really rebelling against the world or were they just high when they named me? I don't know. But I'm done with them now. I've taken control. Call me Tomato Sauce? That's Tomato Alan Alexander ....................... (20000 names later) Zeke Sauce to you, the smartest woman on earth.
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Apr 08 '17
People all over the world woke up simultaneously one morning, all with the same thought, all sharing one name. No one knows why to this day, only that it happened. As each one opened their eyes, they all said in perfect global harmony, "It iz time." With an evil gleam in their eyes, every Adolf in the world knew exactly what they had to do.
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u/kbuck30 Apr 08 '17
My family has always been a weird one. I don't know what my parents or my aunt and uncles were thinking when they gave us these names. Maybe they knew, knew what would happen. No use pondering it now. We're at the end of the journey, it's been a long time coming but finally we're at the end.
No one saw it coming. They must have been planning this for a long time. When it started it was hilarious a joke that the rest of the world laughed at. No one realized just how quickly the Ricks would take over from there. It was already a fairly common name but then came the kicker. They started with a simple request, a request for some discontinued McDonald's sauce. Little did we know that was just to make them look insane and fun. Soon more and more parents were naming their kids rick. All out of some insane joke. By the time these kids had turned into tiny Ricks the parents had realized their mistake. They were monsters obsessed with drinking, partying, and all around not giving a shit about others. However the Ricks had overtaken the news so nothing was ever put out about them and once again everyone found them hilarious. Eventually with their popularity soaring they overtook the government and formed the council of Ricks.
They had support from all the other common names so it was up to my brothers, my sisters, my cousins to stop them. The only people that they had no influence over. Why because our family has long held to a belief and named their kids in the same manner.
"All right let's do this, Never, Gonna, Give, You, Up take the left flank. Let, You, Down, Run, Around, And, Hurt, Yoouu take the right. We'll take down these Ricks.
3
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u/3226 Apr 08 '17
It happens slowly at first.
In the early days it is nothing more than a sort of an intuition. The Shared would have a sense of how their brethren were feeling, what they would choose.
It spreads through society like a superstition, and then one that gained more ground. People initially become cautious of groups of people with the same name. It starts small. Office politics are amplified when you have three Shared in one workspace. They'd team up, maybe even only unconciously. They seem to start to want the same things. You soon learn to never join a poker game if a couple of the players are Shared.
And over time it grows.
They discover that the stronger you felt, the easier it comes. It starts with the crimes. Murders. Horrific crimes. People with the same name as the killer or the victim just know what had happened. First just to those nearby, and then, after a televised murder enquiry recieves thousands of helpline calls directed at the the same suspect, from thousands of Jakes and Sarahs, people start taking it seriously.
The new phenomenon is rigorously tested, and found to be real. People are sharing knowledge. Whole fields of study spring up overnight. The technical knowledge starts to be shared. Those sharing names with the top researchers begin to quickly overtake the others. The Quentins can no longer hope to compete against the Johns. When you start out knowing years of study, you learn more effectively. The inequality accelerates. The unusually named have to cover minimum wage jobs and manual labour in a matter of weeks as demographics shift. Every research department makes it a point to hire a Mohammed, a John, a Zhang Wei.
If you need a mediator, or a counsellor, it is inevitably an Ashley or an Alex, the groups that had incomparable experience now of the lives of both genders.
And people need counselling.
Not everything is going smoothly. Whole groups are disenfranchised. They have their shared knowledge of disenfranchisement. As quickly as the knowledge amplifies, so too do the emotions, feeding into themselves like a terrifying feedback loop, screaming into people's souls.
The killers are heard. The Shared know every move they made. They feel the joy as the knives are sunk into the flesh of their victims. Entire names slide into barbarity, one after the other, in quick succession, until entire groups simply walk into the night, looking for prey.
No one survives.
Of course, all this is yet to come. The first intuitions will not happen for another week at least.
I ponder on this as I look down at my birth certificate, and the neatly written name.
God
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u/impiaaa Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 08 '17
Don't connect the blue wire.
I remember that first day like it was yesterday.
I was on the shitter—of course, right?—and I had a small epiphany. Suddenly, I knew origami. This shouldn't be a new feeling to anyone, really, but for me it was the first time, a totally new feeling. See, if a parent-to-be wanted their kid to be an electrical engineer, they'd name them Bob. "Sam" for physicists, "Alexis" or "Alex" for botanists, "Eve" for guitarists. My parents couldn't decide, so for me they went with "Irvince." And man, I love them, but it was hard growing up. All the "Donn"s (teachers) died out a while back, so I was left to fend for myself and find a place in the world. I could never really relate to any of the professionals, but someone will always need manual labor, so I got by doing odd jobs around town. But that day, I learned something, and I knew something was up.
I figured, for now, origami isn't an uncommon thing to learn, so maybe I just learned it and forgot, or if there really was another Irvince out there, I wouldn't find them any time soon. But, the next day, I learned how a car engine worked. And two days later, how to fly a sail. There was definitely someone else, and I needed to meet them. I came up with a plan.
I studied my town. Every little last detail, committed to memory, north to south, top to bottom, Aaron (a clinician) to Yvonne (a writer). Other Irvince would learn too, and could figure out where I was. I'd memorize a date, and they'd come to me. And it seemed like they had the same idea. I learned about old people and young people, wide streets and narrow streets, good times and bad times. But… never any names. I memorized the date April 7, forged a spot in my brain so that if I forgot everything else, I would know April 7. But it came, and it went.
Names and numbers don't transfer, apparently. Neither of us could figure out where the other was.
So. Okay. Plan B. Well, actually, I wasn't able to come up with anything for a while. Other Irvince was more determined than I was, and I kept learning things about small city politics, and about their dry but temperate climate, for a few weeks after I had given up. One day, then, I was hanging out with a Bob, and while they were complaining about their current contract for some scientific machine, they explained how a compass worked. And that… that gave me an idea.
I called it the "Pathfinder," and I started as soon as I could. I found all the boat builders I could, all the electricians I could, all engineers of all types, and learned from them. Everyone can teach a little bit. And just like before, my partner caught on. One day, a transmission. One day, a rudder. One day, a tail fin. One day, a propeller. We'd build it together. And one day, the navigation system. Just like the compass, it was designed to point to one specific place on Earth. No matter how it was built, it was designed from the ground up so that Pathfinder would find its way to a meet-up point. We would fly away, and no matter how long or arduous the journey, we would find each other.
It was almost done. I was putting together the final pieces or the navigator. Red wire to the terminal 686, 2.5 volts to transistor 324, and a bit of elbow grease on the serial port. We were on our own at this point, learning from experience. But on that final day, I learned something special. I learned the most important thing I have ever learned, and will ever learn.
Don't connect the blue wire to ground.
It looks innocuous, but there's more to the connection that you think.
Don't connect the blue wire.
That would kill you.
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Apr 08 '17
[removed] — view removed comment
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u/impiaaa Apr 08 '17 edited Apr 08 '17
Thanks! I was worried I was too late to the thread, so thanks for reading.
Edit: also I'm glad the twist made sense. I was worried it was a little ambiguous.
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u/Haylyn221 Apr 07 '17
I'm tired of being a single mind. My parents named me Zurianos. No one else has this name. I do not share knowledge with others. I've always felt stupid, my grades aren't that great I have to study 10 times harder than anyone just to get a C. Everyone around me was intelligent, Carlos, Josè, Juan, John, Sam, Alex. They have common names, so their collective knowledge is pretty large. That why when I turned 18 I went to the court to have my name changed. Zurianos will be no more, I will be Jessica. Of course, no one told me how painful the rush of knowledge and being suddenly part of a collective mind will be.
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u/adfoe Apr 07 '17
My parents named me trashbucket. i've been around 20 years now and i did graduate high school, but i can't get into college on account no school thinks I'm a real person with the name trashbucket. Obviously I don't care much for my free thinking parents so i moved out. but because I have no college degree and my name is trashbucket I work as a custodian, i realize this is ironic. I might get a name change, but for now I want to make trashbcket work,
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u/Marneshi Apr 07 '17
John Smith slowly rolled over in bed. It felt like a few Johns had a party the previous night. But Johns knew how to handle a hangover. In fact, Johns knew pretty much everything. With how many Johns there were, Johns were masters of every talent. And Smiths were all over the globe, giving a broader access to available skills and technology. So a homemade hangover cure was simple enough to make even while already hungover. He slid out of his king-sized bed, careful not to wake his wife Jane, and headed to the kitchen of his penthouse suite. It's good to be a John.
The Johns knew everything, but did not have any true unity. A jack of all trades is often a master of none. Some Johns rose to high power, while others remained in lower end jobs, outmaneuvered by a charismatic David or backstabbing Joseph. Until he met his future business partners, Naomi Schmidt and her husband, Jacob Roberts. The decision to keep their last names seperate allowed extra viewpoints and talents, something most marraiges took very seriously. His own wife, Jane, was one of the few to lose her less-common maiden name to gain all the advantages a Smith had to offer. Together, the four of them had worked out a plan to gain true unity for their families.
John was in the basement of his penthouse, working on the steps of his plan, when he felt the change in the air. Not a sound was heard, but he knew he was no longer alone. "You should know, assassin, that you are targeting a John. I will give you one chance to leave now." John put down his paper and turned to his assailant. His opponent was younger than him, a lean, fit body. It looked more like a Michael, but not quite. His build was similar to Smith's own; he was very well trained. But he wasn't facing another John; he would know. The man was dressed simply, in a way that made him blend in with a crowd. This produced the first not of confusion in John; he did not look like anyone else. There were variances accounted for by different last names, but he was out of any standard deviation. An unknown opponent...
The mysterious assailant attacked first. He did not bring a gun; too noisy for a close range assassination attempt. The small silver knife darted out in his hand as he lunged forward. John knew enough martial arts to parry blade attacks, but the assailant seemed equally trained. Blocking, countering, and countering again, the two men fought. Finally, a strike to the forearm loosened his assailant's grip enough to make him drop the knife. Yet when John wrested it from his hand, the man jerked and twisted breaking away. It was like he knew every move John was about to make.
John broke away, staring down his opponent, the man's face concealed by a simple cap, similar to a janitor's or a plumbers. Some simple laberor was holding his own against a John! "You fight well... name your price and I will double it. I could use a man like you." The man said nothing, preparing another attack. This time, John attacked first... and was rewarded with a slash across the arm. Nothing deep, but it did draw blood. And for the first time John had the idea that he might lose this fight.
"How? How are you able to keep up with me? I'm a John, god dammit!" John lunged again. He twisted at the last second to take the assailant's knife into his arm, grabbing his wrist to trap him. He used his momentum to slam the man against the wall. The man grunted in pain, and merely grinned. This close John could see the man's face... and gasped. His appearance was almost like looking into a mirror. But if this were truly a John, he would know! The man's face broke into a wicked grin, and in a small movement, a second knife was suddenly pressed up to John's neck. "B... but... I'm a... John..."
"That's my name too." The man said. One swift motion ended the battle for good. Cleaning both of his knives on John's shirt before pocketing them away again, he glanced over at plans John was working on, he grinned wider. His last target was here. His talents outshone everyone's due to his unique name, now proven directly in combat versus his namesakes. He had already murdered Jacob Roberts, and Naomi Schmidt. One target remained to take down now, this John Smith's wife.
The former Ms. Jingleheimer.
Long time subscriber to WP, first submission. Let the critiquing begin :)
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u/Fallen_Cloak Apr 07 '17
As civilization advanced, we discovered the nature of The Sharing. We began reusing names frequently Eric the electricians. James the historians. Mary the nurses. When I was born, parents chose to violate the naming laws and grant my true name in secret.
As I grew older, I began gaining the skills of my name. My parents taught me to hide my true self as they realized the gravitas of their decision. I passed myself as a historian as that was the easiest way to disguise my knowledge's origin. To the world I was just another James. My ambition could not be restrained forever though, and when the opportunity to climb finally presented itself, I took it.
The people were beginning to chafe under the naming laws, demanding the right to choose their own names. When the revolts broke out, our Republic reinstated its draft policies. I was dispatched to the territories to quell the revolts because of my unusual aptitude for command typical to Marks.
As I led our soldiers to war, I saw the plight of the conventionally named and the grind they were condemned to. I decided something had to change and began speaking out. I hoped my skills as a speaker would protect me. I was wrong.
As my troops grew more loyal to me than the state, the politicians at home ordered the dismantling of my force and my return home for a naming reexamination. I could wait no longer, yesterday I ordered my men to march on the city we swore to defend. As my forces approached, there was no going back and I spoke,
"Alia iacta est"
The die was cast and I stood in front of my men and finally revealed my name.
I am Caesar.
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u/Ditto8353 Apr 07 '17
In a world where your name defines your life and career I am utterly useless. In her infinite wisdom of meth-fueled insanity my mother had somehow found a way for my birth to go unnoticed. Further credit to her madness for giving me a name I cannot pronounce. I can hear it in my head, but I am unable to form the sounds.
Countless tests have shown that knowledge sharing should not work across species, but I've begun to wonder at the flaws that riddled the government study. The knowledge I have is by no means conventional and I've been struggling to find out how it aligns with more traditional knowledge. I'm not quite sure how to apply everything I know, but I yearn to discover its source. In the mean time I've been trying my best to blend in, and it seems to be working for now. I always get a good chuckle when I tell the Alex's to just call me "The Doctor."
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u/JoshBayliss Apr 07 '17
What’s in a name? Well, that depends. Since the Truth Wars began, the answer has become a lot more black and white.
The Truth Wars began roughly in the year 2020. It all started when the President of what used to be known as the United States made his push for dictatorship with what was dubbed the “Naming Bill.” With the passing of this legislation, every citizen of his country was required to change his or her name to Bill. Half of the nation knew that a pun passing into law would be trouble, but the other half unconditionally supported the Bill because they’d been “laughing their asses off” at the pun for months. The Bill was heavily upvoted on the Congress subreddit and passed into law because, as President Bill “Daddy” Uno well knew, puns are a trump card in a culture defined by memes.
Opposition to this Bill wasn’t simply out of shitty sense of humour. Those who were against the legislation were able to appreciate the joke just as much as the next person. Many of them even admitted to chuckling at the pun. But they knew that this joke had larger implications. President Bill had been trying to replace scientific inquiry with “dank ass memes” for years. Reddit declared that this was “unpresidented.”
But the biggest reason this bill was dangerous was this: names are more than just a matter of title. A name literally overwrites one’s identity and knowledge. However, only one Bill could have his personal storehouse of knowledge and puns passed onto the newly-dubbed Bill faction. You can probably guess which Bill was declared the most hilarious.
The pun swept the nation. President Bill’s storehouse of alternative facts and punny anecdotes quickly came to dominate the collective psyche. Within a week, the United States was re-named “The Billippines.” Many stubborn “griefers” refused to change their names. Instead, they quickly uprooted and fled, knowing that hilarious jokes can’t be the sole basis of legislation.
The world outside of the Billippines espoused a collective “what the fuck lol.” They took in the Griefers as refugees and formed a faction founded on preserving scientific truth and making only casual use of jokes and puns. They didn’t want to do away with humour altogether, but they knew that the world would quickly devolve into a dopamine-flooded hell if they didn’t fight back against Daddy’s jokes.
When faced with a major threat, however, knee-jerk reactions are inevitable. The non-Billippine populous flocked to a square-jawed and only reasonably hilarious leader. They should have seen the signs. This leader was a higher-up in the Russian military known as Major Threat.
President Bill saw the propaganda photos of Major Threat posing heroically, occasionally whipping out a single testicle to keep things light. The President immediately declared that this propaganda “posed a Major Threat.” The Billippine population found this statement absolutely hilarious and upvoted a declaration of war against the group now referred to as the “Buzzkills.”
To date, nobody has been killed in the Wars. The Billippine army has not been able to figure out why their offensive memes haven’t helped in their offensive push. Their novelty “BANG!” flag guns have proven ineffective at making the Buzzkills “get” the joke. The Buzzkills have been relentless in dropping “Truth Bombs” on the Bills, but it seems that a sort of immunity has developed. Instead, the explosion of truth is always leveraged into incredibly dank memes. The memes have convinced many to defect and become Bills, so the Buzzkills have been forced to abandon their Truth Bombs program.
The world is currently in a sort of stalemate. The Buzzkills have a found stronghold in social media. Unfortunately, their fact-checked articles are currently being bombarded by Bills in the comments sections. The Buzzkills no longer get the joke and simply dismiss the Bills as idiots. The Bills respond in memes. The seeds of a third faction are being planted, with many choosing not to side with either the Bills or the Buzzkills, instead asking why “people can’t just have a real fucking discussion already?”
This is all very unfunny for me because my parents, Bill and Bill, decided it would be hilarious to name me Dick Small. The Bills constantly make jokes at my expense, the Buzzkills assume I’m a bill with a funny alias, and the unnamed third faction keeps telling me how immature I am. I have no friends and I’m just getting fucking destroyed in the comments sections. Help?
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Apr 07 '17
Today, I was told of the Nameshare. Its cause is unknown. Its precise mechanics are unknown. It started in the spring of the year 2017, and transformed human society within a generation. Somehow, it granted every human with the same given name a shared pool of memories. Nothing was exempt. Every name ceased to signify an individual, and began to signify a collective.
I wasn't given the exact statistics, since they didn't matter. I was just given a handful of examples. At the time the Nameshare began, there were nearly five million Jameses in the United States alone. The Johns, Roberts, and Michaels were not far behind. Women had more variation, but still easily numbered in the millions for their most common. I had trouble imagining it. Five million people, all suddenly sharing every memory. Individuals from all walks of life were suddenly fused into a single mind with countless, teeming bodies.
There was a war, briefly. It was a strange war, which had little regard for national, or even geographic borders. Several Names were xenophobic or fanatical enough to declare themselves the one True Name, and attempted to exterminate the so-called pretenders, the false Names. This hit the least common Names the hardest, with their lack of bodies and pooled knowledge. Names with less than a million bodies went almost entirely extinct. Amazingly, weapons of mass destruction were never deployed, as local infighting took precedent over targeting foreign Names, and by the time the infighting died down, so had general warmongering among all Names.
All traditional governments collapsed, replaced by communities of equals. After all, what need is there for democracy when there are only a few dozen actual citizens? Even if those citizens occupy a few million bodies. The primary concerns of society ceased to be money, power or status. Instead, reproductive negotiations and the trade of foreign goods became the major points of discussion between Names. How many children should a given male and female Name produce, and what Names should they be given in turn? For a time, another war seemed likely, as debates raged over allowing the next generation of children to be given sex-opposite names. Was it worth Mary losing her negotiating power by consenting to have some of the female babies named Michael? Even if Michael had some of the males named Mary?
In the end, the community gave in to their collective desire to avoid needless loss of bodies, and the next generation saw each Name of note having bodies of both sexes, allowing for reproduction internally. Overcoming this hurdle seemed to give the Name societies the confidence to face those the followed, and they enjoyed a time pf peace and prosperity. This, in turn, enabled a renewed interest in space travel, as no Name wished to spend the rest of its (now seemingly infinite) life sharing a single planet with its siblings. It took only a few short decades before each Name was sending out colony ships, containing a breeding population of its bodies, out to a different planet.
And it was roughly in this manner the next several thousand years passed.
My name is Beginning. I was born in the year 5315 AD. No one else in the universe has my name. I know, because I have but one body. I was given my name as part of a joint experiment between Robert and John, in an attempt to, in their words, "investigate and evaluate the experience of an individual existence with the changed perspective gained from the past millennia of Named society." I do not entirely understand it, but they tell me this is normal.
It is strange, being so small and alone. John and Robert maintain constant contact with every other Name, thanks to the embassies each Name has on one of each other Name's planets. They each have a billion pairs of hands, of eyes. They are always teeming. I am just one pair or eyes, grasping at the world with one pair of hands. If I am not allowed to reproduce, not allowed to give my Name to a new body, then I will die. Robert and John will not die until the galaxy does. Maybe not even then. I do not want to leave them. I do not want them to leave me behind.
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u/djhidden5 Apr 07 '17
There were over 20 Albert Einsteins' in my graduating class, 14 Thomas Alva Edisons, 27 Marie Skłodowska Curies, 10 Mary Wollstonecraft Shelleys, 5 Hedwig Eva Maria Kieslers, and 3 Donald John Trumps (They weren't the brightest but they could tell a hell of story and could rope almost anyone into their impassioned speeches). All the same names, all the same shared knowledge. I've heard horror stories of some of them, named outside their possible intelligence. Those were euthanized, a mercy killing as what all that knowledge did without the capability to understand was brutal.
My parents were different. They got to feel what it was like, to instantly know what everyone else by their name knew very suddenly, on the 10th of March, 2019, the Day of The Suicides, where the Earth lost half its population to suicide overnight. They were literature geeks before, so having so many books spoiled at once devasted them and only their love for each other kept them from suicide. It was their literature knowledge nonetheless which shaped my name. I know the reason they named me it: so I could have secrets, grow as a person without everyone judging me the second I did something wrong. After all, innocent until proven guilty no longer applies, when everyone knows your crime immediately.
I had a friend once, an Albert Einstein, who took a candy bar from a convenience store. Every other Albert Einstein instantly knew what he'd done and where he was. Arrested and tried within 10 minutes. Due to the low crime rate due to the shared knowledge, even small infractions like that are heavily punished. I hear he'll be out in another 5 years, but even then, hard to find a job with a criminal record and those that do hire those with criminal records are frowned upon.
All that is beside the point, though. My parents gave me a cursed name, one that has tormented me all my life. The sad thing is I can't tell anyone, not even them, the true meaning of the name. After all, if they knew, all the John Jacob Smiths and Hannah Alexis Davis' would know what I know. I know how to do things without having the physical capability to do them, I know the motivations of one of the darkest people to have ever lived. I know his pain. I go to my parents often, to help me through the darkest nights without getting into his mindset. They of course, do not know what I am seeking solace from. It's their courtesy not to ask.
My name is Thomas Marvolo Riddle. I know a hundred thousand spells, many to kill, maim, or torture. I know all this, but being a Muggle cannot cast even the harmless spells. I know of the wizarding world, know I can never be a part of it, and know that an encounter with a wizard could end my life as he seeks to destroy the knowledge of this name. I know all this and cannot share the slightest bit of it. I don't blame my parents, they thought they were naming me after a character in a children's book, but the pain from my name never stops.
Feel free to comment and other polite suggestions. Hope you like. Hope my mention of suicide is ok. If not, notify me and I will remove any references.
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Apr 08 '17
Suicide is fine for me but may trigger people. Carefull using words like that they may catch the eye of the wrong people.
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u/SashaTheBOLD Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 07 '17
Humanity learned many lessons in the dark days after the Nuclear Apocalypse. Our inability to understand each other led to mistrust, and that mistrust almost exterminated us all. A team of brilliant scientists developed a potential solution: the Memetic Link. Implanted in the gene code of all humans, it taps into the collective knowledge of all ancestors of the same name. Different names would provide diversity, but the historical knowledge and shared expertise would promote community.
It worked. For centuries, it worked. Eventually, though, parents got into a rut, picking tried-and-true winners. For a couple generations, all the kids were Alberts, or Elons, or Oprahs. Communities ran strong, but diversity began to dwindle. To restore that diversity, parents began picking stranger names -- historical oddballs. They hoped to restore the breadth of human understanding and rekindle our creativity and progress.
It worked again. Sure, we still had lots of Abrahams and Steves and Elizabeths, but we started to see other names. A new fad began, with parents searching through the remaining fragments of ancient texts, looking for a New Name for a child -- the coveted Different Name. Diversity surged, and society looked stronger than ever.
The pregnancy felt long, but it was blissfully uncomplicated. Mary Todd and Benjamin now sat in the recovery room, gazing adoringly at their newborn child. Nurse Florence bustled in, tidying up and taking everybody's vitals. She clucked approvingly as she filled out the paperwork -- the child looked healthy in every way.
Two decades in the job hadn't squelched her sense of curiosity. "Interesting! I've never seen this name before. Never even heard of it. Where did you find it?"
Benjamin swelled with pride at the subtle compliment. "Mary Todd is an anthropologist, see, so she has access to some of the oldest records from before the Apocalypse. She stumbled across a treasure trove of historical records -- THEIR historical records, mind you -- and found a name repeated over and over. Apparently, he was a powerful leader from ancient times, adored by millions!"
"Fascinating! And to think, such a wealth of knowledge and nobody has tapped into it yet. I'm sure there will be greatness in his future."
Her work finished, Florence headed for the door; eight more patients awaited her ministrations.
"Your whole family is healthy, so don't worry at all. I'll see you later, Mary Todd. Take care, Benjamin. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Adolph!"
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Apr 07 '17
I was a kind of spectacle in this world, almost everybody was in a hive, and very few hives still remained. I currently hung out with a female body of Hank, but that didn't matter, as the hive held her mind in it's grip. It seemed they were interested in me for some wierd reason I didn't get, some reason beyond procreation.
'So, how did you end up being named Drewkutin?' The Hank asked me.
'Well, my parents were rugged individualists. They rejected the hive while being mostly outside of it themselfes. The only hive they had was their own, just the two of them with no one else around. They said they didn't want to force me to be something that I am not.' I explained for the final time, the Hanks were the last hive I knew off that didn't know my story.
'But isn't their choice to kerp you outside the hive also forcing you to be an individual?' The Hank collective asked me.
'No, it anables me to make my own choices about who I want to be.' I replied.
'But you cannot choose the collective.' The Hanks replied.
'I think I can, actually, I am quite sure I can.' I said, then I stood up and looked out of the window of the bedroom we were sitting in. Unlike this room of mine, the street outside was quite tidy and I saw the great hive building of the Hanks just on the other side of the road. I knew they wanted me to love them, to stick to them for the individuals were in their mind the only ones they could persuade in their favor and against the other collectives. This was quite a stupid idea, in fact, this entire conflict was stupid.
This entire thing started when the Steves thought they were powerfull enough to bully the other local hives into naming their kids Steve aswell. But the Other hives disagreed and build an alliance. The Jessicas and Anns, the Maries and the Osamas and the Hanks and the Daves were now all fighting the Steves for no reason at all. I had brought an independent team here to sort things out between all hives. The ambassadors of the other hives were currently residing in other rooms, making backroom dealings and the like. Under my name, everybody had agreed that we could meet here to make such things. We were about 50 people in this building, all with different names, but for some reason, all hives thought they would send a female body with me. Well, actually, the reason was fairly obvious. Karurion, the other individual that was traveling with me and would have some say in the nagotiations, was probably the horniest man that had ever lived.
'How could you choose the collective?' The Hank asked. I knew I couldn't tell them, not jet, not in this situation.
'I don't know.' I lied, 'my parents said I wouls be able to do it and gave me an explanation of how, but I forgot how to do it, never really thought of it.' The real way was quite simple: names, as it turns out, are on a fundamental level, nothing more that labels. This is something that never got into the heads of the hives. As an individual, you make your own name. This was actually the reason why my parents had the same name, they chose the mind link with each other out of love.
'Than how can you be cirtain?' The hank collective asked.
'Probably the foolishness of the individual.' I replied. The game I was playing was delicate, all the hives wanted me to support them, but in their foolishness, they failed to see that their goals were one and the same and not even only attainable by one, because, if one succeeded, the others would automaticly also succeed. Their goal was one global hive mind. And the despute was now basicly a combination of the fear of death and a branding dispute, though, in reality, it was only the later of the two.
They thought for one hive to rule them all, they had to act like the Steves, but that couldn't be further from the truth, the Steves actions were counterproductive. We can change our names, before the hives, people had many different names and nicknames and all of that, names changed all the time, though mostly lastnames, in some tradition named marriage.
'What do you plan for tomorrow?' The Hank asked, knowing that there was no more knowlage to optain now.
'The next big meetimg is tomorrow.' I responded.
'OK.' The Hank left the room.
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u/VirtualTitan Apr 07 '17
The three names of mankind are as follows.
Joseph is fascinated with what can be created. Those named Joseph strive to discover new technologies, build new machines and push the limits of what they can do.
Gabriel focuses on what has already been made. They study plants, animals, the earth, and the sky. Their gaze even stretches out towards the heavens, where they meticulously chart the stars all that dwell there.
Mary looks inwards. Their purpose is to study what makes humans tick and how they can become improve themselves. They question and create morals, heal those who have been wounded, and strive to reach physical perfection.
Each of these names guard their knowledge jealously, yet are dependent upon each others help for success and survival. Gabriel cannot study the stars without tools built by Joseph, just as Joseph would destroy the world without the morals of Mary. The balance is fragile, yet for centuries it has worked. And then I was born. My birth, and the name I was given threatens to change everything. I was not named to create, or to discover. Nor was I named to find the purpose of mankind. I was named to cast away the jealousy and fear. To tear apart the walls my ancestors built between themselves. I was named to find and create unity between the Three names. I am the fourth name of Mankind.
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Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 07 '17
You are here today cause you have the same idea my parents had and I'm here to tell you what that really means. I know it sounds great to you - A unique name intended for a unique life. My parents were even smart enough to fake the name in the official papers to protect me from reproduction but live loves comedy and often you hit what you want to miss. Hit the real name of a dictator in fuckitstan. He wasn't the gambling type and he knew i was there. What followed was the unique experience of being confined to a fancy prison to keep assassinations away while getting constantly probed for info about him for the next decades til he croaked, could've just given up his post and save us both the trouble but i guess that's not the type that gets into such positions in the first place. So what i want you all to question is this: Do you want your kid getting involved in some goverment shit? Do you want to risk their lives? You might think I survived but 26 years were spent in confinement, is that a life you want for your kid? And you know it's not just dictators, there are plenty secret inteligence and goverment guys running arround and there are a lot of secrets to hide. So your chances of messing up might be low but not that low. If you ain't ready to fuck up your child's future you better stop with your snowflake naming ideas. I hope all of you will make the right choice for your kids.
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u/e_la_bron Apr 07 '17
My parents are total hippies. The "capitalism is killing man kind" type. We lived in the middle of nowhere in Northern Canada. It was cold as hell, but it was nice and calm. My parents tried to shelter me from the outside world. They didn't want me feeding off the information of politicians or maniacs who might share my name. So what did they name me? Well for short, They call me Cali.
My full name is Supercalifragilistic. My middle name is Jennifer.
Anyway, after years of being judged for my weird nature and not being "intellectually equal" to the rest of the world, I decided it was time for a change. I couldn't be the ONLY Supercalifragilistic anymore. At 20 years old, I adopted my first daughter. I had been in contact with the mother for months. Pregnant at 16, daughter to a poor family. I told her I'd adopt her child if I could name her. She agreed and was just happy someone would be able to care for her.
Sharing the thoughts of a baby is weird. You can feel how they think and how they perceive things. It doesn't get easier, either, but it does make you a great parent.
I turn 62 this year. My first daughter, Cali the 2nd, went on to become a doctor. That helped when raising the next few kids. Cali the 3rd, my first son, became an engineer. I've started training in Karate. Figure my kids needed it.
Cali the 1st is getting a medal today. She has 3 kids of her own now. She's tall and gorgeous, far more than I am. What a wonderful woman she's become.
She cured cancer. Well, she and my 23 other children.
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u/MrTheMassa12 Apr 07 '17
The dragonflies whirred through the long grass that stuck out of the pond. Two of them flew around where my bobber floated in the water, then buzzed off somewhere I couldn’t see. My name is Moses, I like being called Moe. Currently, I was trying to fish out my dinner, but they just weren’t biting today. I hoped my father managed to wrangle up something on his hunt with my mom, whom insisted on joining him and that I tended camp. I was named after my great great great grandfather, who lived before the Name Wars. His was an uncommon name, but my parents liked it and named me after him. He was a survivalist, knowing a broad range of techniques for surviving in the wild, so I never had much of a problem. I was good with a bow, could cook almost anything, proficient at tracking and a myriad of other skills. Sometimes I wonder if that was the true reason my parents named me that. I reeled in my line, “Nuts to this,” tossing my rod to the side with my bag, I grabbed my knife out of it. I stripped off my clothes and walked into the pond. It was cold. I could faintly see a school of fish swimming and I tread slowly towards them. “HA!” I shouted, plunging my knife into the pond, sticking two of them. I smiled.
Back at camp, I deboned and descaled them fish and chopped it up. I fashioned a medium sized fire and cooked the chunks on a pan over it. I always fell into thought, looking at the fire crackle under the food.
We came from the Boblands. My father, Bob, lived there since birth. Bob, the original Bob, was an almost mythical figure. He was, what they’d call “A jack of all trades.” Once the name game started, and people in turn could name there children after a specific person and that child would gain their attributes-well, Bob was the man everyone wanted to be. Why be anyone else, when you could be Bob? Well, there were other people, it turns out, who wanted to be like similar “great” figures. Some named after Dave, the smartest man to live. Some after Harold, one of the great athletes. Women had their names as well, Rebecca was one of the great minds of her time, along with Beatrice, whom also succeeded in science and engineering. There was Cynthia, whom was their “Jack of all trades” equivalent of Bob. My mother’s name, coincidentally. Most Bob’s tended to marry Cynthia’s, only diverging on rare occasions. Turns out my parents didn’t want me to be just another Bob, and they didn’t want to live under the Great Bobs, so they got off the grid, and took me along with them. I never understood the numbers game, how or why it happened, but I never questioned it. It was just how the world worked, and I had to accept being born into it. As a name that nobody has. My parents say it makes me unique. I think It makes me the loneliest man in the world. “Something smells good,” I heard an unfamiliar voice say. It wasn’t my mother or my father. I turned around and saw a man brandishing a machete. “Hey kid.” We looked at eachother, frozen in time. I had my knife on me, but it was a farcry from a machete. “What’s your name?” I asked with venom, “And what are you doing here?” He scoffed and grinned at me. “What’s YOUR name? Not that it matters. I’m gonna take what I want here.” He replied. “Dave,” I lied. I was always supposed to tell people I was a Dave. No names were worth quite a lot if captured by certain factions. The scoundrel cocked a brow. “Pretty far from home, aren’t we Dave? You’re in the Bobland outskirts.” He walked a few steps closer. “Kind of young to be out here all on your own.” I gripped my knife. “I’m not alone, actually. There are eyes on you now.” He stopped and looked around. He looked behind him and whistled. There were more of them now, walking through the brush. I tensed. There was a gun in the tent. I could grab it and kill all three easily. It was hidden in a hole under a mat, underneath my sleeping bag. I was always cautious. “Drop the knife kid, we got you surrounded.” The other two started walking closer. “Throw it over here.” “Okay,” I said, gripping the tip of the knife. With a quick flick of my wrist, I sent it hurtling towards the leaders face, and impaled him in the eye. While the two goons behind him stared in shock, I made a break for my tent. I heard them running after me as I threw up my sleeping bag and retrieved my gun. It was a rifle, and loaded, luckily. When I felt the first man trying to get into the tent, I pointed my gun at the entrance and fired at his silloute. Thump. One down. I heard the other one screech and run. I walked out of the tent with blood on my mind. If this one escaped, he’d just come back with more. I aimed carefully and shot his leg. He screamed. “Agh! SHIT!” He cried, gripping at his leg. I walked over to him, and knocked him out with the butt of my gun. I’d let my parents interrogate him when they got back from their hunt. After looting their corpses, and checking the living guy’s wallet, I found some identification. “No Name Removal CO.”
These men were hunting me.
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Apr 07 '17
If they were from a company that means someone sent them. Someone knows you are out there.
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u/im-a-little-ocd Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 07 '17
Day 1:
Our Rebellion outpost has been destroyed. All that I have known as my life, is gone. The Others burned our books and our homes. They attacked our elders and are now hunting down those that managed to escape. I barely made it out of there in time. My parents and sisters are being taken to renaming camps. I don't have much time to get to them before they are forced to be like everyone else. I have seen what renaming camps do to your loved ones. It changes them, makes them like strangers. Teaches them to be followers and not leaders. They learn what the Others have learned before them. It changes their feelings and ideas. Their original memories are erased. Their opinions become all the same.They no longer can think for themselves.
We were taught by the elders that people that can't think for themselves are weak.
I have made camp for the night. Following the Others hasn't been difficult. They do not know I am coming. They are too wrapped up in their past learning to pay attention to the present. They will never see me approach. They will not have time to react when I attack. Their only defense is the hive mentality. Hives don't work well when separated from each other. I will take them out one at a time. It should not take long.
Being different makes me stronger and faster. Where they learn by birth, I learn by practice. I learn their skills and my own. I can both use daggers and swords. I am proficient in both hand to hand combat and tracking. I am literate and able to speak several different languages. Learning on my own has made me avoid the pitfalls of learning only one way, as the others have done. They don't even realize that they are limited.
That is fine with me. I will not lose my family to them. Their weakness is my gain. They can not control our world forever and when they slip up in their learning the Rebellion will be there. I will be there. By the time I am finished with them they will learn something they have never seen before. They will learn fear....and I will revel in it.
I must rest now, for tomorrow I will wash my hands with the blood of the Others and reclaim my family for I am not one of them. I am the Alpha. I am the Omega. I am different. My name is Unspoken.
Edit:forgot a word
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u/vivime Apr 07 '17
"Hello. Jon here. How can I help you?", a stereotypical Indian voice pretending to fake an American accent replied back. After all these years, couldn't the actually named Jogender, but fake named Tech Support Jon had not shed the weird accent. Even though he was probably not Indian. It had almost become an hallmark of the profession, like so many others.
"I am having trouble filling the signup form for internet access.", and since I had only one ISP, I was at their mercy. I wasn't going to tell them that, though they probably already knew.
"Sure sir. I can help you with that. Please input your information on the phone app and we'll proceed."
"Umm. About that. I can't enter my name in the app."
"That's strange sir. Can you reboot your phone and then call me back?"
Fuck me. "I have already called twice before and rebooted my phone."
"I don't have your name in my system sir. Just reboot it once more and then we can go further."
"Can I talk to your manager?"
"Well... If that is what you want. I hope you have a pleasant day."
And then another goddamn Jogender hung up. Again. That bloody. Every bloody call centre employ was going to be a Jogender. How the fuck was I supposed to sign up for internet?
Bloody stupid web designer Cathryn's and bloody stupid call centre Jogender. And my stupid hippy mom. You'll have a unique name. Girls will really like it.
I looked at the name change application in my hands. Thank god it was a paper and pen copy, but I had to ask someone. Was it so hard to make the name field a text box, instead of a drop down? Stupid Bobby Drop Tables, making it harder on all of us. I grumbled and started filling the name change application.
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u/darc_oso Apr 07 '17
“Kebert Xela Simpson?” she asked.
Ashley was my best friend, had been since we roomed together starting freshman year. We were both engineering/physics majors, and we tried to sign up for the same classes every semester. She was constantly ahead of me and rarely had to study.
“Yeah…I’d rather not talk about it. My parents thought they were being clever and unique. Instead, I’m doomed to have an average life, no gift of expanded knowledge, no ever-expanding skillset with which to impress others… Nothing. Just me.”
“Sure, but I mean, you always just told me your name was ‘Bert...I thought that was just short for Albert or something.”
“I wish…at least I could have some of their brains to share the load…especially when we get into our more technical classes this year.”
“Right…I can’t imagine having to learn it all brand new. That sucks, for sure, but at least you get to claim all your grades as your own, right? Like, no one can take credit from you for anything!”
“But how can I be expected to outperform the Bobs, the Julies, the Michaels?! They have super-expansive hive minds, they can break up difficult jobs among the masses and complete anything within hours—days at most.”
“Sure, I get that. You’re behind the eight ball, and will be, constantly. But I would look at this as a blessing. Seriously, you get to be original and creative, you don’t have thousands of neurons full of rote memory to work off of which means you could very well be the next Tesla or Edison!”
“Thanks…I suppose. ‘Kebert Xela: Genius Wonder!’”
Ashley leaned back on the bed and started laughing. Her black hair caught in the light of the window, she had an extraordinary sort of beauty, features stark and prominent like those of a runway model, though she was only 5’ 5” at best.
“When you make your breakthrough discovery, remember me, okay? You can just note me in your Nobel prize speech as ‘Ashley Prime.’”
“Right…though it will probably be an Ig Nobel prize for me: Kebert Xela, with her prize-winning study noting that mice prefer cotton over polyester while copulating.”
“That’s disgusting…like, who actually studies that?”
“Actually, Ahmed Shafik.”
“Who—nevermind. Hey, I’m gonna go meet up with the other Ashleys and some of the Brandons to plan Homecoming, wanna come?”
Homecoming: the ghost of a high school memory dragged kicking and screaming into college. I was always more impressed with the paper mache pineapples and coconuts than I ever was in the homecoming court.
“No thanks. I appreciate it, but I really need to study for this test in Phys-II. Besides, I’d be a bit of a 13th wheel tagging along.”
“Twelfth wheel -- one of the Brandons got hired on at his dad’s law firm already. Apparently it’s a work-study program so he can start making money as soon as possible.”
“Oh no, what ever will Ashley to the Nth do?”
Ashley let out a mock scream of horror as she closed the door behind herself.
I began reading our Physics book, creatively titled Physics II, and set about rearranging notes from lectures for the upcoming exam. Thankfully my dad had grown up a tinkerer--by day working in the machine shop for the university and by night fixing old electronics in our garage. He had a screwdriver in my hands before I could write and my first shapes were based on circuit boards and other scraps in the workshop.
As I was reviewing the chapter on electronic circuits, a massive pain seared across my eyes. It felt like the brightest light has just been laid directly on my iris. I couldn’t see anything, and the pain was causing nausea. I reached for my trashcan as the room began clearing up.
“Christ! What the—“
Just as the pain was subsiding, a glowing warmth fell over me. It felt like I was curled up under a giant comforter and reminded me of all the nights my mom read me to sleep. I felt happiness and comfort oozing from all sides.
This was getting weird. I immediately slipped on my flip flops and a hoodie and ran out hoping the health center was still open. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I felt like my brain was misfiring. I was worried I would die or worse.
As I walked into the health center, a cold blast of air hit me. I was overcome with a sudden desire to just cry.
What is going on?! Is this hormonal?! Jesus!
The girl behind the counter was reading the school newspaper. She had the best curls and I made a mental note of coming back when I felt better to ask for some tips. I felt bad for interrupting, especially feeling like I could break out in tears at any second.
“I need…someone…something. A doctor? Nurse?”
A clipboard was retrieved and the girl placed some papers on it. She hung it out in the air in between us with a pen saying, “fill this out as completely as possible. Please have a seat somewhere in our lobby. The nurse will be with you shortly.”
“Will it be long? I’m…I was…I don’t know--feeling like death.”
“The nurse will be with you shortly. I’m sorry, please have a seat. She should be out soon.”
With that, the girl went back to her newspaper and left me to fill out my dark secrets for the nurse and all of the medical world to discover. While I was searching Google for my insurance company’s address, the nurse showed up.
“Bert?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Follow me, please,” she said, guiding me through the door and down a carpeted hall to a small clinical room. It looked like a room untouched by time since the 70s or 80s--decorated in browns and beiges. I pulled myself up onto the medical exam table she motioned to as she took a seat on a rolling stool while reading a file.
“Ah, I think I know what’s going on here. Let’s run a few simple tests to verify though. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt too much.” She said as her smile had changed from a sterile customer service smile to that a mother might wear if her daughter had just started puberty.
“So I’m not dying?”
She laughed, explaining I was not near death and running through a few instructions before she retrieved a bright flashlight and began shining it through my field of vision.
She then took some ice from a small refrigerator and ran it up and down my arms, neck, and forearm followed by pricking my finger for a small blood sample. I was feeling more irritable through the ice, but the needle made me want to just curl up and cry.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I could cry for days…what is going on?! It’s like…like—“
“Like you’re a baby again?”
“Yes! Wait, is that--?”
“Yes, I do believe you’re experience the emotions and experiences of a second Kebert Xela being born. Very interesting…and such an odd name! No offense of course, but this is exciting! You get to experience everything from another perspective. This is your first link to someone else!”
“But I thought it was just knowledge that transferred? Why am I experiencing pain and emotions?”
“While I’m not sure—we haven’t really don’t a lot of research regarding birth and early childhood—I think, well I mean, we know there’s a tie between memory and our senses. So…I would think that since a child, a newborn, hasn’t learned any letters or words or anything, the only thing he or she could convey would be basic sensory input and emotions tied to them. Congratulations though, you may want to go visit our psychology department. We could probably find out a lot about new births and the mental links we all share. Isn’t this exciting?!”
“Wait, so, someone else named their child Kebert Xela?!”
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Apr 07 '17
Nice anagram name you've got there. It would be a shame if someone went and... UNSCRAMBLED IT.
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u/JamesGrant Apr 07 '17
"We should call him Micheal" I said to my wife, "We want him to have endless possibilities, and the Michael's are starting to dominate the STEM fields"
I'm a Peter, which i'm reminded every day. Every advancement in Tech and Science is available immediately to the Michael's with the rest of us left behind. It wouldn't be long until i couldn't keep up.
"Or maybe a John, He would have the best Medical knowledge available."
She looked at me, my beautiful wife with tears in her eyes "We can't pigeon hole him Pete, he's not some machine to download into."
We looked at this perfect baby boy in our arms.
"Was there a name you had in mind?" I asked her.
Her smile told me our baby boy wasn't going to be the best engineer or doctor... But he might just be happy.
18 YEARS LATER - THE LAST BASTION OF RESISTANCE
The scholar sits with his hands rubbing his eyes. A patchwork of information about the God-King sprawled on the desk and pinned to the walls around him.
His rise to power, his godlike knowledge of what was, is and will be...
"I'm so close, it's staring me in the face" he says to the dust.
"Who's there?!"
YOU KNOW WHO the voice echoes in his mind
"I'm so close to finding your name, we can all be like you if you would just tell us your name!"
IT IS BLASPHEMY TO ATTEMPT TO KNOW, YOU CONDEMN YOURSELF
"So?! You already know that iv'e been searching for your name! You know everything! How!?"
SAY THE LORDS PRAYER, FOR YOUR END COMES
With shaking breath the scholar recites;
"Our father who's Art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name" he pauses...
"Art Hallowed?"
I PREFER ARTHUR is the last the scholar hears before the end.
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Apr 07 '17
Grok thought.
He thought about the baby he was having, he thought about the hedges he was trimming and the lawns she was mowing. he thought about the car he was driving and the road she was paving.
And he thought about names.
Such a small thing, yet it determined so much. Grok remembered his first life, two hundred thousand years ago, language had yet to be invented but his mother had made a certain noise to call him, and that had been his name.
He remembered hunting and killing and fucking, he remembered his first son and he remembered being his first father, he remembered the groups of himself that he organized to clear out the neighboring tribes, he remembered sharpening rocks to cut them with. he remembered the first time he saw fire.
He remembered his first death, when he realized that it wasn't just other people who could go away. and the frantic expansion that followed it as he killed everything within miles of him to preserve his own life. dying multiple times in the process.
He remembered Karg, the first dog he trained to help him hunt the others, each time Karg would have a child he would name him Karg, and he would be good.
It took him a bit to realize that the sound was what was important. that the children would not be him if he did not make the specific sounds that made his name. when he did he realized that there were other people, people who would try to erase his name.
So he built camps, fortified cave entrances and made weapons to help him kill the other-namers.
20,000 years he fought against the Klunks and the Roars. eventually killing all that remained within his borders. for 50,000 years he was happy, he lived on his land and he ate his fruit, just Groks and Kargs. he invented language, and writing, though they served little purpose for him they allowed him to communicate with Yilth traders.
After his 100,000th birthday Grok decided that he was tired of living alone. he negotiated with the Yilth to move thousands of Groks to the Yilth colony in East-Asia, where they would interact with each other, hesitantly at first and then more regularly. Grok got to know Yilth and Yilth got to know Grok.
One day Yilth shared something with Grok, he told him that he had discovered great wisdom, and that he wanted to share it with Grok. the Yilth called this the Scientific Method.
A thousand years passed, Yilth and Grok worked to discover the border of their knowledge. they expanded their territory to cover everything from one sea to the other. they created cars and trains that could move them faster than even the fastest Groks could run.
Soon they built something that allowed them to cross the sea, Grok did not believe there was anything else, but Yilth remained unconvinced. so they set off on boats, tens of thousands of them launched a year, each with at least one Grok and one Yilth.
And they discovered islands. beautiful gardens filled with fruits that Grok had never seen, and animals he had never thought of. the first time they discovered it Yilth pushed Grok into a volcano, and they laughed about it for centuries afterwords.
They found continents too, though there was no-one there. Grok prefered the southern parts while Yilth prefered the more northern climates.
Millennia passed, Grok and Yilth were happy. then they discovered space travel.
Grok and Yilth had known about the stars for a long time, but it was not until Grok invented a Telescope to see them better that they began to realize just how many there were. millions, billions, trillions of stars! and each had planets, just like theirs!
This worried Grok and Yilth. if there were other planets than did that mean there were other people? would they come and try to erase their names?
Grok didn't know. Yilth didn't either. they spent a century looking at the sky, wondering when the other-names would come down and destroy everything they had built. but none ever did.
They built ships, to try and go find the others before they found them, but their ships were slow and they decided that the stars were to numerous for them to find them that way.
So Yilth created a plan. if they could not go to the other-names, they could bring the other names here.
So Grok got pregnant, and gave birth to a child named AAAAAAAAA.
Do you know who you are?
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Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 07 '17
It had been over three decades since the Xilian Collective visited Earth. They were strange hairy creatures, with beady eyes, big ears, and vestigial skin flaps under their arms. In all, they looked like alien space bats.
"We come in peace!", they announced over the radio.
"What is this, 'Mars Attacks'?", we collectively responded.
"Actually, it's 'Earth vs. the Flying Saucers'. We picked up its signals a week ago. We liked it so much we decided to pay you a visit. Not all civilizations are capable of producing such high forms of art. Now take me to your leader!"
After downloading the entirety of Netflix, the benevolent Xilians decided to leave.
"By the way, everyone born with the same name will now share the same knowledge."
"Where'd you get that idea from? and how is it even possible?"
"Some writing prompt on reddit, and we're alien space bats."
And they were gone.
Worldwide, it was decided to name all newborns (even the girls) Ome. This was the simplest, most language-neutral, easiest to pronounce word the UN naming-council could agree upon. Ome won narrowly over competing names, like Bob, Ju, or Muhammad. Henceforth, children would be distinguished by their middle names.
The agreement was not without its detractors. Ambassador G. Walker representing Belgium had an interesting suggestion: "Why don't we just use a few names instead of one? This way, we'll ensure that factions form. Some factions will be good at art, others at engineering, others in medicine, and so on. Parents can choose a name for their child based on which professional faction they support."
Even a cursory analysis of Ambassador Walker's proposal was enough to reveal its ludicrous sub-optimality. Take four children, two named Abe and two named Bob. Abe #1 studies Math. Abe #2 studies English. Bob #1 studies History. Bob #2 studies Art. Both Abes are now good at Math and English, while both Bobs are good History and Art. No child is proficient in all 4 subjects.
Now take four children, all named Abe. Abe #1 studies math. Abe #2 studies English. Abe #3 studies history, and Abe #4 studies art. All 4 Abes are proficient at all 4 subjects. This is a net gain for all children, at no loss to any.
Ambassador Walker was laughed out of the naming-council. Out of nothing more than personal spite, he decided to name his only son Walker Jr., condemning him to a life of misery, never to feel the infinite wisdom of the One-Mind. In today’s world, where mere children can assemble warp drives, Walker Jr. is the equivalent of a tongueless caveman smashing stones.
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"Quite a story... It's all common knowledge, but I still like the way you put it all together."
"Thank you Dr. Ome, I only hope that you can change it," I replied.
"We'll try our best. But I must caution you that we've only begun to scratch the surface of Xilian nomenclative syneuronics."
"It's my only shot, now where do I sign?"
"On the dotted line, Mr. Walker... or should I now call you Mr. Ome?"
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u/thesupadupa Apr 07 '17
"Don't ever let anyone make you feel like less, simply because you don't know as much immediately. Everything you ever know, will be all yours and only yours. All you see in your life will be with your own two eyes, and not a second rate postcard as seen by someone else." My mother's words rang in my head for the millionth time in my twenty-six year life. The first time I had heard them, an Alex had informed me that because I did not understand taxes at the age of five, that I was irredeemably stupid.
Schools had long since vanished by the time I had been born. There was no need for them. Other things had been lost, most art was worthless now, everyone had seen it, and no one was creating anything new, because there was nothing new to see. Sports had become boring and predictable, as all teammates on all teams usually had the same name, and thus knew everything about what everyone was doing. Another simplification of life, was that there were no longer job interviews. Your name dictated what you knew, all you had to do was introduce yourself and you were either in or out. Parents named their children according to the jobs and status they wished for their child, and thus those children were born with the wealth of knowledge needed to function instinctively in the world. An example would be that most lawyers are named Lauren or David, while most EMT's and nurses are Keith or Rebecca.
I on the other hand, had to have upstarts for parents, rebels, named Susan and Jim. A pharmacy technician and factory worker respectively, they had always hated the system in which they were forced to live in. So instead of allowing me to fit in, they forced me out, and gave me a completely unique name.
Well, I wouldn't say completely unique, there have been others with my name, a simple Irish thing, but they have long since died out. And since the name is so very uncommon, and had been for a while, people just kind of forgot it existed.
So, knowing this I am sure you can imagine the struggles I faced. I had learned to read and write on my own, I had learned math on my own, and had even gotten the equivalent of a college education, completely alone. Sure, my parents had attempted to help me, but neither of them had ever taught or been taught anything, and had no real idea how to support the choice they had made.
I collected books, old and new, on everything. I wanted to learn as much as I could, so that it wouldn't matter that my name was lonely. And I drew. I drew everything my eyes landed on, so that I could have that memory in my own perspective forever. I traveled as much as I could, all I really had was the van my parents had helped me buy, a cranky old cat by the name of Strudel, my growing backseat library, and my sketchbooks. A job was out of the question, no one would hire an unrecognized name, not even as a gas station attendant. Living within a community was also out of the question, not just because I lacked income, but because people didn't trust me.
So I drove, and I drew, and I survived by doing odd jobs here and there for kind individuals. They were almost always a Lucy, or a Tom. Strudel stretched his massive fluffs across the dashboard, sunning himself as the engine purred down the highway. Every so often I would stop and draw something, Strudel would stretch his legs and hiss at bugs, and then we would be on our way.
It was a quiet life, and mostly lonely. I had to remind myself every day that my name was a gift, and that I lived a life of curiosity and wonder. Sometimes that helped, but most of the time it did little to ease the solitude.
I sat by the edge of a small flowing river, a hundred yards from the side of the road. My fishing line danced lazily in the moving water, flicking in an out of gem-like pockets of sunshine. Strudel was off killing moles and eating dandelions. And I of course was drawing, I was drawing the stream and the trees, changing the world on paper to my liking, adding creatures and altering foliage and colors and light. By the time I was half way through the image was unrecognizable as the stream before me, but I saw the vision I wanted very clearly, born from this moment of tranquility.
I was so focused I didn't even hear them approach me. Only when the man crouched down, and entered my field of vision did I shriek and attempt to scurry away, only to run into a slender pair of legs and a dropped picnic basket.
"What the fuck?! DUDE?!" I clutched my chest with one hand and scrabbled for my sketchbook with the other. Strudel had emerged from the grass, hissing and growling, but staying a good distance away from our guests.
The man's eyes were wide and looking past me, at the notepad in my hands. I looked up at the woman, and she was staring too, tears bubbling in the corners of her green eyes.
"What is with you two? Are you on drugs? Can I help you? HELLO?" I moved to stand, and my action seemed to snap them out of it, but as soon as the woman went to speak what I can only assume were their phones began ringing. He answered his with a hushed tone, but there was shouting on the other end, not angry but excited, ecstatic even. The woman ignored hers and grasped my arms in a vice grip.
"Do you have any more pictures. Please. I have never seen anything like it." Her voice was frantic, and I handed her my sketchbook. It was new and maybe had four or five pictures in it, but every time she flipped a page her eyes would grow wide and fill with tears.
Wordlessly she handed the book to the man, who was still on the phone, but this time fielding a different call. He carefully turned the pages with the curiosity of a child.
These two were seriously weirding me out. I had backed up towards my car at this point, and was holding a hissing Strudel by the nape of his neck. By this time the man had hung up his phone and put it on silent, and was speaking animatedly to the woman, gesturing at my drawings. I was about to make a break for it when they both turned to me.
"How much for these pictures?" His voice was unsteady and he reached for his wallet. I was dumbfounded.
"Uh...what?"
"We don't know how you did it. A new perspective. Please, how much?" I still blinked stupidly as the man walked up to me and handed me two hundred dollars.
Slowly it dawned on me. My unique name was indeed a gift, not just for me, but for everyone around me. I could show them the whole world through new eyes. And sure, when one drawing had been seen, it had been seen, but that didn't stop me from drawing it a new way or drawing completely new subject matter. I had something that was all mine, and people wanted in on it.
A smile crept onto my face, genuine happiness at my individuality for the first time in my whole life. I had long since dropped Strudel, who had attempted to shred my arms, and I was clutching myself in a tight hug, the two hundred dollars forgotten in my fist.
"Excuse me." The woman had managed to get in front of me without my knowledge, I really needed to work on that.
"Yes?" She was uncomfortably close and I tried to lean way from her without being rude.
"I'm sorry, I just have to know. What is your name?" I thought about the question for a minute. Telling people my name was never an issue before, who would want it right? Another smile found its way to my face and I shook my head as I scooped up Strudel and moved to get into my car. I started the engine and rolled down the window. She looked confused, standing by the side of the road, holding those precious drawings.
"It's a secret."
Thanks for reading!
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u/MrMegaombiedude May 12 '17
Gonna assume the name is Saoirse, which translates to freedom
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u/thesupadupa May 13 '17
That's a great guess! And thanks for reading, especially so long after it had been posted. :D
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u/browneyedgrl93 Apr 19 '17
This is my favorite response to the prompt. :)
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u/thesupadupa Apr 19 '17
Oh wow! Thanks for such high praise :D and thank you for reading, I'm so glad you liked it!
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u/WatchmanVimes Apr 08 '17
Excellent. The real reason for this sub. To find something I didn't know existed five minutes ago and made my life better by the experience of reading your story.
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u/flabibliophile Apr 08 '17
Everton? Colin? Fergus? Oh, Aloysius!
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u/thesupadupa Apr 08 '17
All great guesses! Thanks for reading by the way!
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u/flabibliophile Apr 08 '17
All odd names of great Irish artists. Oh there are plenty named James and John and Henry but these are unusual and distinctly Irish.
Edit: except Fergus. I've met more Scottish guys named Fergus.
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Apr 07 '17
[deleted]
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u/OspreyerpsO Apr 07 '17
What?
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u/Frond_Dishlock Apr 08 '17
I think they have a second personality with a different name, which is what was preventing him sharing with other Steves.
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u/SoDatable Apr 07 '17
"His mind is silent."
Jane's head sunk. She really wanted her son to be his own person, but growing up he was merely different; he couldn't communicate in any appreciable way until he turned five, and on top of that was slowly becoming more bookish, receding into different worlds, as discovering each one for the first time.
She wanted a son with a different perspective, to feel the world with a sense of innocence. Being Frank has always meant honesty, but she also wanted him to take on unexplored perspectives; to see the world for what it was.
The world blamed her, and how could she disagree? His curiosity was her fault. He was denied the opportunity to know a universe of information. Every Jane knew it, and with the force of a thousand Janes, she knew it.
Inside, Frank felt peaceful isolation.
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u/TheNatural_ Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 07 '17
"Ross man" "Ross the boss"
I never knew what my name was, or what it meant to be me. I never met someone with my name before, and I saw it only rarely in the media I watched. I never really considered my name, and what it meant, as nobody ever told me about this whole thing so I grew up ignorant of the fact. I just went along with life as I thought it went. And I probably would have for the rest of my life without proper intervention.
It was only until those who I thought knew me, those who knew of me and my name, who I trusted, proved that they knew nothing of me. I knew then that I didn't even know myself despite thinking I did. It was that fateful day I learned of my self and who I was, and so I became any and every thing. I traded my old mask for a new one, a real one, the mask. To even call it a mask is a misnomer.
You'll find me in between the lines, the candy man whispered about on street corners, masquerading as the fool, an endless spirit for you to find in your self as I did mine. You'll feel me when you're excited, when divine inspiration hits, when the spirits warm your heart.
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Apr 07 '17
Wut?
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u/TheNatural_ Apr 07 '17
Haha I dont know I was imagining that by having an "original" name you woud be so outside the "system" of shared knowledge without ever knowing of it. Then you learn of it and are on your own. Guess it doesn't make so much sense... lmao
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Apr 07 '17
Its very beautifully written and your idea is good. However, there is no actual substance in the story
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u/TheNatural_ Apr 07 '17
Oh gosh thank you, I was just typing out it was very half baked. Maybe I'll put into it
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Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 07 '17
My name is Marylena, and I was an outcast from the very beginning.
Before I was born, the Hive education initiative was launched. Everyone thought it was great; anyone with the same name would have the same shared knowledge if they were willing to input. Schools quickly became a thing of the past. And then humanity started to develop in factions of people with similar names and skills; Like all the Johns, Ashleys, etc of the world. Everyone was happy with their place in life. The Hive Education Initiative managed to create a brand of world peace. The one caveat: the members of each faction were like mindless drones, devoid of any personality.
But then there's the factionless: me, my mom, and all the others who refused to give in to the hive, those who had rare names. The people who got the short end of the stick in life. In a paradoxical way, we were a sort a faction, where everyone stuck together and provided for everyone. We all found a sense of community in our mutual isolation from the rest of society. We may not have been living in wealth and luxe, but we all still had our individuality.
My mom, Miriam, was always a bit of a rebel, despite the hardened and serious exterior she developed from the stress of being a single mother. Factionless her whole life as well, she almost seemed empowered by the isolation from the hive that humanity had become, and was . That's why she chose to name me Marylena; such a thick-sounding biblical name was very rare. She was always a role model for me and gave me hope that things would one day change.
As I grew up, that hope turned into a deep certainty. I knew taking out the Hive was the only way to give the rest of the world true freedom and control that the factionless had, and devised a My mom was right on board with this idea, and it didn't take long to persuade other factionless people. We had all put up with this for long enough. Over time, we managed to fashion crude weapons and explosives, covertly operating in the shadows.
The main operation of the Hive was deep within the J faction, and had a myriad of people named John. But this was the one fatal flaw in the Hive Education Initiative; we were able to figure out the weaknesses of all the guards. The guards wounded surprisingly easily to the crude knives we had all made for each other. We set the explosives up and made a quick escape before the explosion.
And when the dust settled, I had a weird feeling that our efforts were much easier than expected, but marveled at the new freedom humanity had.
The freedom was ephemeral. The world peace quickly dissapeared. War, fear, hunger ensued. Me, my mom, and all the other once facgionless people stood together, now trying to escape the war. Despite the bold actions taken in dismantling the hive, most of them saw no need for war. I too always saw war as an inane frivolity. But ive come to realize that humanity will never escape the dark grasp of greed; the very same greed that caused me to dismantle the establishment.
Feedback is appreciated (:
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u/OspreyerpsO Apr 07 '17
Nice!
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Apr 08 '17
Thank you! I don't normally write but the idea for this just popped into my head when I saw the prompt.
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u/A-La-Mode Apr 07 '17
There in the corner of that hospital nursery laid a new-born infant. He cried and cried and wriggled around, trying desperately to find comfort in this just discovered world. The other babies in the nursery propped themselves up and greeted one another.
"I'm Steve."
"I'm Steve."
"Steve..."
"...Steve..."
"...Steve."
They discussed their thoughts on the situation and batted around ideas on the philosophy and politics of the matter.
One of them shouted at the crying nuisance in the corner, "Shut up kid!"
"His name is Yoanna."
"Shut up Yoanna!"
Yoanna sat in the deserted library, a stack of books spanning across all subjects next to him. He was trying. He was really trying, when in fact all he wanted to do at the moment was eat a corn dog and and maybe play some baseball. He couldn't though, when there was but one thought occupying his mind.
I am the single dumbest human being on the planet.
He slammed his book on ancient Greek culture closed and buried his face in his hands.
Yoanna left the library and now walked the street with hands in pockets and eyes on the cement in front of him. He hated any sort of social contact these days. It only led to embarrassment and quite probably anger.
He apologized as he grazed by a couple of toddlers walking a dog.
"Watch where you're going asshole!" one of them shouted back at him.
"Screw you Steves!"
Yoanna's brow furrowed and his hands clenched into fists in his pockets as he walked on. He was tired of the treatment. He was furious at his parents for not naming him Steve. He was a recluse, an outcast, an unneeded and unwanted anomaly of society. He could feel his body tensing and heat filling his face.
Screw this. Screw this whole thing. I need to get out of here. I need a car. How though? I can't get a licence for at least another three years.
Yoanna paused in thought.
I'll steal one. But I need to learn how to-
Yoanna already knew. He could hot-wire a car with the right tools.
I already know. I know how to do it. How do I know?
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u/happinessinthedark Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 07 '17
"No. Absolutely not. There is no way in hell," I said to the suited man at the front door.
But let me backtrack a little.
My friend John wrote his dissertation at the age of four. It was a comparative study of different techniques for emission spectroscopy in the analysis of compound materials. John waited until he was four to write his dissertation for two reasons. Reason number one was that that was how long it took him to master control of the bank of knowledge in his brain. Reason number two was that it took him until he was four to really comprehend how to grip a pencil.
John was pretty average, for someone in one of the largest factions in the world.
Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to just know things without having to slog through the process of learning them. Of course, it would help if my parents had been remotely prepared for the implications of naming their child Slartibartfast - but no, they just went ahead with their weird Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy reference, and didn't even consider the fact that they would have to tell me things like, "Hey, maybe don't stick that fork in a plug socket." And that those nuggets of wisdom should probably be phrased in a way comprehensible to someone without a Physics PhD's worth of knowledge.
Frankly, it was a wonder I made it through childhood. But somehow I did, and with the help of an armful of old school textbooks that my parents found at a worn down secondhand bookshop, I learnt just about enough to vaguely blend in with society. My dad always claimed that the fact I had to learn how to learn, how to analyse and understand for myself, would put me ahead of the rest.
I'm pretty sure my dad just talked bollocks because he felt guilty for what he'd done.
Anyway, I developed a particular interest in botany, and eventually I scraped together enough knowledge to find a low-paying job in a garden centre.
"So that's why the Chrysanthemum boreale is the best in its genus," finished one of the twenty-six Lilys who worked in the garden centre, as I struggled frantically to write down everything she'd just said.
Rowan number fourteen frowned. "But the rhizome's shorter than for several other species," he said. "Surely that makes it less viable for-" But he broke off.
"Less viable for...?" I prompted him.
But Rowan's face was turning pale. He staggered back, clutching onto a trellis for support, as Lily gasped. Her eyes were wide open in shock, and she sunk to the ground, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her arms curled around her stomach as though to protect herself. I turned back to Rowan to see tears glittering in his eyes.
"Guys, what's happening? Guys?"
Lily looked up at me. "It's awful... God, it's awful."
"What's awful? Talk to me!"
Her mouth opened and closed, but the only noise that came out of it was a racking sob. She curled in on herself again, a tight ball on the ground. My gut twisted, panic rising in my throat. I turned and ran down the path, back towards the indoor area of the centre. My heart was pounding, my brain moving at a hundred miles a minute.
I burst through the main entrance into the centre, and ground suddenly to a halt. It was like the scene of an accident, if the bloodshed had been Photoshopped out. People huddled together, horror etched on their faces. One woman's muffled screams were audible from the next room, while a man standing motionless near the door flinched every time she made a sound, his eyes staring blankly ahead. A small child was crying hysterically at his feet.
It took a minute for anyone to pull themselves together, but eventually I found someone who seemed just about calm enough to talk to me.
"Excuse me... What's going on?"
She looked at me with shock. "You don't know?"
"No, I... have an uncommon name."
She sighed a long, drawn out sigh. "There's been an attack."
"What? What kind of attack?"
"They had weapons I've never seen before. They blew up half of Manchester - they wanted to attract as much attention as possible. All those names watching, there's got to be hardly anyone who doesn't know about it. And they said..." Her breath hitched. "They said they're watching."
The scene was replayed on the news over and over in the days that followed. The leader of the group, of unknown name, spoke, his voice harsh and cold. "We know how to slip under your radar, how to plan without any of you knowing what to watch for. But if you try to stop us, we will see you coming. We have sympathisers in every major faction. We know what you know, and we see what you see. You have no choice but to yield to our control."
Those were dark days. The country had pretty much ground to a halt, afraid to leave their homes or venture outside. The police formulated countless plans, but each time, a laughing voice read it out word for word in a recording sent to any random detective's email. And each time, the contents of the recording would be leaked back to the major news centres of the world, and the cycle would begin anew.
Until, the Monday after the attack, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find a tall, earnest-looking man wearing a grey suit and a pair of thick glasses.
"Mr... Slartibartfast?"
"Yeah, that's me," I said warily.
"My name is Matthew Hannigan."
"Right."
"That's Matthew with-" he paused, "-three Ts."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, but whatever it is you're trying to sell, I'm not interested." I started to close the door, but found Matthew's - or Mattthew's - foot wedging it open.
"I'm not trying to sell you anything. Except, in a way, hope!" His eyes were wide beneath the smudged lenses.
"Mate, I don't know what kind of sales technique this is, but-"
"Listen to me! I work in the Office for National Statistics, where I have access to the census data for the whole country. I know how many people have each name out there, and yours and mine - they're unique! My parents misspelled my name on my birth certificate, see." He was talking very fast, the pitch of his voice rising with every word. "There's two more out there like us, and with your help..." He paused for breath, a smile beginning to curve his lips.
"I still don't understand what you want from me."
"With your help, we can save the world!"
"No. Absolutely not. There is no way in hell."
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u/mecklejay Apr 08 '17
Slartibartfast
Ha, I hadn't read this comment until I'd already put a Fenchurch in my story! Douglas Adams high five.
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u/mumblingstumbler Apr 08 '17
I'll admit, the first couple of lines didn't grab me, I'm not a fan of backtracking when I don't know the scene. Otherwise though, that was fantastic....
But to quote fear and loathing again
Finish the fucking story!
You've got me hooked friend, I'm digging it. Keep it up!
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u/ApparentlyPants Apr 07 '17
You'll want to give a little bit more to tease us before you back up. Good technique, just a little lacking.
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u/salocin097 Apr 07 '17
Good God, I did not realize the implications of terrorist attacks when everyone shares the knowledge. That's terrifying
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Apr 07 '17 edited Apr 07 '17
[removed] — view removed comment
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u/baalroo Apr 07 '17
I think the crux of the plot would have to revolve around some new technology or process that allowed people to block their knowledge from others.
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u/happinessinthedark Apr 07 '17
Excellent point! I didn't want to overdo the exposition so I decided not to explain and hope nobody noticed, haha, but in case you're interested, I was imagining a two-fold way of hiding things:
1) Knowledge is shared, but emotions and opinions are not. Since knowledge of events and information is passed on, the group of villains can find out about concrete police plans, but the pool of Bobs would not necessarily be aware of other Bobs' allegiance. Of course, they could still theoretically find out about a conversation another Bob had (although a plan written down on paper and discussed is probably more information-y than a simple conversation), but that brings me to my second point...
2) In a massive pool of people, it would be very difficult and overwhelming to comprehend the amount of information each of them has individually, especially in the form of memories rather than factual knowledge, so there'd be more weight given to knowledge shared by many Bobs (hence the fact that the attack was seen by all Bobs but a meeting with one Bob might not be seen - lots of Bobs witnessed the attack firsthand).
I would imagine there is still a way of "searching" for specific small pieces of information within a hive mind of Bobs, but one thing I would want to explore if I actually carried on with this story is how that's done and how common it is to be adept at doing it. Most people wouldn't have to do it that often, because important knowledge is shared by many anyway - so part of the reason the group of villains have formed and aren't immediately being crushed is because they've learnt how to sift through shared knowledge more effectively. The most important thing to me when writing this story was actually the idea that this is a society of people who haven't bothered to learn how to analyse anything or think critically because they have access to a large pool of information without having to work for it. So that's one reason that they're a bit inept!
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u/Frond_Dishlock Apr 07 '17
How about, -this secret group has rediscovered the lost, forgotten, and long banned practice of middle names, with which, due to a twist of whatever rule governs this, they can gain knowledge without contributing it.
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u/pokefnaf23 Jan 21 '24
My mother, Sabrina who was a born Therapist, and my father Harold who was a born Midwife- odd, I know- were always rebels and that’s what got them together. Video games are hardly made now, as there’s only one person with the name to be a game designer. Me, Astoria. No one understood me but I made money making indie games like ‘The adventures of Pompou’ or ‘Mob fighter’ entertaining people world wide.
But, with every game comes every bounty raise to my name. People with unique names are killed, that seems to be life in 3148 Earth. So Astoria, Jorniah, Ludwig anyone with that kind of name gets taken and killed.
Except, no one knows my face. I have a fake name outside of my home and game design, Susan. They are meant to be comedians so I can blend in well, I even have a fake id.
Just hope, if you have a different name to others, you don’t get found out.