Note: Written in edited journal format (ie. someone's typed up what someone else had written, fixed spellings and censored/removed irrelevant or inappropriate material - which is actually an important fact in later chapters). Every . on a line by itself is a marker for when the author left his journal and resumed writing at a later time. That time might be anywhere between seconds and days, but the text will give a better idea of that.
Challenges:
1. The what-if challenge, What if being Chosen was a random chance?
2. The Valentines to White's Day Advent 2015, day 9 - queen anne's lace (complexity): write in a writing style you have never used before
3. The Christmas Wreath Event 2015, wreath: (writing style) letters/diary/journal, chapter 1/first candle: a small amount of blood is somehow spilt (eg. papercut, nosebleed, biting lip etc. - no knife wounds!)
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Journal of Hotaka Satoru: 17 and 11 months to MIA [Edited]
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It's lottery day again. Maybe my lucky day. Probably not. I'll duck back in when I know the results. I'll ramble in the meantime.
You already know about the lottery, of course. Or maybe the old journal doesn't carry over. So I'll explain again from the beginning - and maybe this time I'll find a hole that'll improve my chances. I'm getting too old to wait.
Everyone's made up of something called DNA, and it's different for everybody. Sort of like a fingerprint, except with thousands of little parts and way too complicated to use as an ID. So they use some complicated algorithm to give us a digital ID instead. That digital ID goes into the lottery too, and more complicated algorithms spit out the winner and they get themselves all sorts of stuff: an enhanced virtual pet partner called a digimon, a chance for adventure and valour and all that other stuff that was hard to come by in the modern age, and a job as a civil servant without having to go through a minimum of two degrees and six years of charity work.
So yeah. Sounds like a great deal, and I want it. Haven't gotten it yet though. Maybe this time'll be different.
Two hours till drawing.
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One hour. Chewed gum, chewed fingernails, and I'm running out of both. And time.
Forgot to mention that the lottery is age-restricted. Hit eighteen and you're out of it. No more chances. I've got two more lotteries until I'm eighteen.
Come on lady luck. Or guy luck or whatever gender luck is.
Fifty-eight minutes. Wow, I'm getting faster at writing.
Oh, who cares?! Time, move faster already! I'm tempted to actually clean the room.
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Room cleaned. Ten minutes left.
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Seven minutes.
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Five minutes.
Nearly there.
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Four minutes. Bit a little too deep and drew blood. A pitiful little bite amount.
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Still four minutes. I may as well recite the commandments to make the clock tick. Or write them, since you're a new journal and all and you wouldn't know them. Anything to make the time pass.
And look at me. I'm talking to you as if you're sentient, and if that wasn't bad enough, I'm writing it all down too.
Anyway, the commandments. Chosen commandments, which don't mean squat if I don't win the lottery these next two times - dammit, why do they have so few slots and so many people vying for a spot?! - but everyone who wants to be a Chosen knows them. And that's most kids, because Chosen are the ones everyone knows about, the ones that get to do cool things...unless you're one of the more academically orientated nerds and would rather sit behind a desk with a computer all day, off your feet...
That's not for me. I can't sit still. I'm writing and pacing and my handwriting's probably horrible but I'm good at multi-tasking (and yeah, I'm a guy. Girls aren't the only ones that can multitask) and my teachers kind of make me keep a journal anyway. Say it's good training for when I don't win the lottery because so few kids win it anyway and you've got to have a back-up plan and faith doesn't help when it's pure luck involved...
Though there's this conspiracy theory going around that some families give large donations to improve the odds for their kids, and that royally sucks. Luck sucks too but I doubt I'd have passed any aptitude test so at least luck equals hope -
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Stupid speakers. Stupid fucking speakers.
Stupid lottery too.
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If the earlier entry wasn't clear enough, my name didn't come up in the lottery. Some eight year old got it. Lucky bugger; it was probably her first lottery.
Since my teachers read this, I better stop there and yell the rest to the empty room.
Back to the homework I hadn't done.
Wistful thinking.
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School sucks. At least half the class are looking at their last few lotteries. A quarter are already out, and the other lucky quarter don't turn eighteen until next year. Or something like that. You know I'm not good at math. Or you should; this was my old math book before I dropped the class. Dad wasn't pleased, but we can pick our own classes from sixteen and that's just what I did.
So yeah. School sucks. Peeps are all stressed or downtrodden 'cause our future's about to be set in stone and all, and maybe the teachers can pity, the ones who wanted to be teachers anyway, but we peeps don't have the time or energy.
I've got a careers meeting scheduled two o'clock.
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Same old, but because my last lottery's coming up, kind of had to pay attention. My options aren't too bright either. What much can you do with arts subjects? Research, writing fiction, painting pictures, drawing manga or designing anime. None of those are particularly high yield because you only get paid if you do a good job and the bar on good has jumped quite high since the world drove into the digital age. And then if you maintained a good record for a number of years and a spot opened up, you could work for the government and showcase the stories they hand to you and get paid a little more.
If it wasn't like that, I don't think I would've minded being a writer. If I couldn't go on adventures, I'd write them. Or something like that. But living on the fringe of doubt? Uurgh. I know people do it but it sounds awful.
More stable options: becoming a teacher (insert gag here), or a recorder. A recorder would be best and one I hadn't considered much - because it meant you followed the Chosen around on their adventures and then recreated, after some editing so the government was sure it was appropriate for public viewing - because it meant following the guys who'd gotten lucky with the lottery and bearing the fact that they were probably laughing at you inside.
But it also mean I'd get to tag along on adventures, which I hadn't thought about too much. I'd get to go to the digital world.
But it's not easy becoming a recorder, either. It's a skills test, but the careers lady thinks I might be able to do it. I can multitask, after all. Write on the fly (thanks, teachers), draw sketches, take photos and recordings while looking at something else to make sure I don't miss anything. And I'm not half-bad with animation. Maybe not good enough to be an animation artist, but that's what the government's animation artists are for. Or maybe I am good enough. Shouldn't put myself down and all that - but still, risky business becoming an animation artist and my inspiration-source would have been the digital world anyway.
So yeah, recording mightn't be too bad and now I have to lodge the form after the next lottery.
If that fails, I might try molecular design. Still had to keep one science despite our freedom with subject choices, and chemistry was mine. My math skills can handle that much and while biology might have been easier, it's also a great deal more boring. And chemistry left this path open. See? I had been thinking ahead a little. Just enough not to dig myself into a hole.
And there's still a chance. One in two-hundred million or something like that, but there's a chance.
Three weeks till doom's day. One week till mid-terms because they're never too close to a lottery. That would be asking them to fail.
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[Several pages have been removed for brevity's sake. They contained only comments on the subjects of the writer and anxiety about the upcoming tests and lottery.]
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A week till doom's day. Tests are done and the results are out. Not that they matter much. The finals are what count. If you don't win the lottery, of course, because if you do then none of this counts.
I passed everything though. Barely when it came to chemistry but I managed it. The teacher says I'll have to do better if I want to be a molecular designer.
I don't. I want to be a Chosen. But trying harder's not going to rig the lottery.
Nothing else interesting.
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Five days before the lottery, my parents take me out to dinner in the restaurant and it's a rare treat. Maybe to get my mind off it. But there's no forgetting.
The lobster was nice though.
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Sick.
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Sick.
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Sick.
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Still sick, but can get out of bed without falling over. Sort of.
And vomiting.
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That lobster gave me food poisoning. Still not up to snuff and I feel like shit, but it's lottery day - or doom's day for me. I can't lay still.
Not that I was laying still the last few days. Tossing and turning and testing out the voice recogniser on my laptop because I couldn't get up and type commands instead. It took the edge off boredom anyway. Listened to songs and talk shows and thought about how the people on talk shows were no different to the common researcher...
Still have a few hours to kill before the big D at midday, but need to eat breakfast in there too and my stomach's still churning.
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Breakfast was a bad idea. Now my floor's a mess.
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Bedroom smells like potpourri. If it wasn't for the lottery I'd take the couch. Should fill my forms but I want so badly for them to be a waste so I won't. Same with homework.
I'll try reading.
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Can't read. A racing game instead.
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I give up. Can't get past that level between trips to the bathroom and I'm low on patience today.
Still an hour left.
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Filling the pokedex in the latest pokemon game. Can't for too long but it works in between mini-breaks and bathroom trips.
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Finally get a shiny. Ten minutes to go and now I feel like throwing up again.
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Threw up. Five minutes. I'll just close my eyes for a bit.
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Two minutes. Bit wasn't long enough. Chewing fingernails again. I'll need to find my nail clippers after this.
Kidding.
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One minute. Maybe I won't bite the actual finger this time. Still time for the commandments? Never got to them, did I?
Let's see...
1. You are not to abuse your assigned partner in any way.
2. You are responsible for your partner's actions. If you believe he/she is acting inappropriately and/or against government regulations/orders and outside your control, you are to report it IMMEDIATELY.
3. You are not to use your partner for any conflict involving another Chosen unless approved by the government.
4. You are to prioritise government orders above -
Ten seconds! – 2 1 –
