Disclaimer- the whole idea of the latches and Ryter and all that belong to
Rodman Philbrick, but the new characters and this particular story belong
to me.
A/N- You really have to have read The Last Book In the Universe to understand this cuz there are so many terms and names and stuff that nobody could ever possibly understand without reading The Last Book In the Universe first. Sorry.
1 MY NAME IS SHADOW
I don't know why I'm doing this. I think it's stupid. It was Ryter's idea. See, he started this book (I know, it's crazy, isn't it?) and after he finished it, he decided his friends should all be in it too. Not just be in it, but write in it. It's stupid, because none of us can read (I'm speaking into one of those machines that type what you speak into it), so why bother? Nobody around here can read, and I don't expect anyone will ever read. Not with mindprobes. Ryter got it from the old Ryter, who died. See, this Ryter, the one who got us to write in this, he used to be called Spaz, because of his spazes (he calls it epilepsy but everyone knows it's just the spaz). So after the old Ryter got killed by The Mob, Spaz decided to write the book, and soon people started calling him Ryter, instead of Spaz.
Anyways.
What Ryter wants me to write about is- I don't know, my life I guess. He just said "Tell your story." and gave me the machine. Pretty zoomed, if you ask me. But here I am. So. My "story". It satrts, I guess when I ws born. My mother was one of Vida Bleek's assasins. I don't know what happened to my father. I've never seen him and I don't really want to. I would be an assasin, too, if Lotti Getts and her Vandals hadn't come. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The main point is that I grew up around a bunch of pitiless murderers.
Not that I was all alone. There was one other kid my age. A boy named Weasel. We grew up like brother and sister. We practically were. I loved him. Not in that way. We were never luvmates; I can't imagine being his luvmate. But I loved him. I thought I might cut my own red if he died. Guess I was wrong.
Me and Weasel talked a lot about what we would do when we got older. We didn't have a problem with becoming assasins, not really. It's just, we kind of wanted to do something else. I'm not sure what. When we talked about it, I remember, we could never find a reason for not becoming assasins, but we both agreed that there was something else.
Finally, we reached the decision that we would run away. Not just to a different part of Lotti Getts' territory, but another latch altogether. We planned everything; what night we would do it, what time we would go (midnight). We knew we wouldn't have a problem getting away unseen, for we were the children of assasins, and assasins are the best at becoming invisible. We were just worried that once we had gotten away, Vida Bleek would come looking for us. Still, we were willing to take the risk.
Finally, on the day before the set night, we were getting all geared up, ready to go, when Lotti Getts and her Vandals come roaring in on their jetbikes. I was about to run back inside, but Weasel grabbed my hand and shouted above the noise, "This is the perfect time to make our get-away. Come on!" and he started fighting his way through the mob of fighting people. I followed him a bit unsure, but he was stolid as ever, and just kept forcing his way through, so I made sure I didn't lose him.
All of a sudden there was a roar and a jetbike loomed in front of us. It was tearing through the crowd, and riding it was none other than Lotti Getts, Queen of the Vandals. I was paralyzed with fear, but Weasel immedietly threw himself sideways into me. I hit the ground hard with a cry, and rolled over. I lay there for a couple of seconds, to get over the shock, but after a while I became aware that I was in danger of being trampled, so I got up painfully and looked around.
"Weasel!" I shouted. I started to wander through the battle, trying to find him. "Weasel! Where are you!" Suddenly something hit me very hard. I stumbled backward, looking to see what it was that had bumped into me. At the ground I saw something that made the color drain from my face. A bloody, mangled corpse. It was Weasel.
He was dead. When I saw his body, I have to admit I kind of spazed (not like what Ryter has). No, I really spazed. I just started screaming and screaming. Although I don't remember running away, I must have, because the next thing I do remember is me being outside with cold rain running down my face. I think I was still screaming, because an old gummy came up and said in this very soothing voice, "Come on now, child. Come with me, Ryter, it's okay." Okay? My best friend, my brother, the only person I could ever talk to, ever relate to, was dead. What was I going to do? There was nothing I could do except for let myself be led away by this old man.
He led me to where a boy, maybe one or two years older than me (this was Ryter, or Spaz, at that point) was standing. Spaz joined him and the three of us walked off to where a takvee was waiting. There were already two others in there, a little boy of about five, and a beautiful proov girl. I was too stunned to think about the oddness at the moment, though. I just sat down on the seat and stared into nothingness.
A/N- You really have to have read The Last Book In the Universe to understand this cuz there are so many terms and names and stuff that nobody could ever possibly understand without reading The Last Book In the Universe first. Sorry.
1 MY NAME IS SHADOW
I don't know why I'm doing this. I think it's stupid. It was Ryter's idea. See, he started this book (I know, it's crazy, isn't it?) and after he finished it, he decided his friends should all be in it too. Not just be in it, but write in it. It's stupid, because none of us can read (I'm speaking into one of those machines that type what you speak into it), so why bother? Nobody around here can read, and I don't expect anyone will ever read. Not with mindprobes. Ryter got it from the old Ryter, who died. See, this Ryter, the one who got us to write in this, he used to be called Spaz, because of his spazes (he calls it epilepsy but everyone knows it's just the spaz). So after the old Ryter got killed by The Mob, Spaz decided to write the book, and soon people started calling him Ryter, instead of Spaz.
Anyways.
What Ryter wants me to write about is- I don't know, my life I guess. He just said "Tell your story." and gave me the machine. Pretty zoomed, if you ask me. But here I am. So. My "story". It satrts, I guess when I ws born. My mother was one of Vida Bleek's assasins. I don't know what happened to my father. I've never seen him and I don't really want to. I would be an assasin, too, if Lotti Getts and her Vandals hadn't come. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The main point is that I grew up around a bunch of pitiless murderers.
Not that I was all alone. There was one other kid my age. A boy named Weasel. We grew up like brother and sister. We practically were. I loved him. Not in that way. We were never luvmates; I can't imagine being his luvmate. But I loved him. I thought I might cut my own red if he died. Guess I was wrong.
Me and Weasel talked a lot about what we would do when we got older. We didn't have a problem with becoming assasins, not really. It's just, we kind of wanted to do something else. I'm not sure what. When we talked about it, I remember, we could never find a reason for not becoming assasins, but we both agreed that there was something else.
Finally, we reached the decision that we would run away. Not just to a different part of Lotti Getts' territory, but another latch altogether. We planned everything; what night we would do it, what time we would go (midnight). We knew we wouldn't have a problem getting away unseen, for we were the children of assasins, and assasins are the best at becoming invisible. We were just worried that once we had gotten away, Vida Bleek would come looking for us. Still, we were willing to take the risk.
Finally, on the day before the set night, we were getting all geared up, ready to go, when Lotti Getts and her Vandals come roaring in on their jetbikes. I was about to run back inside, but Weasel grabbed my hand and shouted above the noise, "This is the perfect time to make our get-away. Come on!" and he started fighting his way through the mob of fighting people. I followed him a bit unsure, but he was stolid as ever, and just kept forcing his way through, so I made sure I didn't lose him.
All of a sudden there was a roar and a jetbike loomed in front of us. It was tearing through the crowd, and riding it was none other than Lotti Getts, Queen of the Vandals. I was paralyzed with fear, but Weasel immedietly threw himself sideways into me. I hit the ground hard with a cry, and rolled over. I lay there for a couple of seconds, to get over the shock, but after a while I became aware that I was in danger of being trampled, so I got up painfully and looked around.
"Weasel!" I shouted. I started to wander through the battle, trying to find him. "Weasel! Where are you!" Suddenly something hit me very hard. I stumbled backward, looking to see what it was that had bumped into me. At the ground I saw something that made the color drain from my face. A bloody, mangled corpse. It was Weasel.
He was dead. When I saw his body, I have to admit I kind of spazed (not like what Ryter has). No, I really spazed. I just started screaming and screaming. Although I don't remember running away, I must have, because the next thing I do remember is me being outside with cold rain running down my face. I think I was still screaming, because an old gummy came up and said in this very soothing voice, "Come on now, child. Come with me, Ryter, it's okay." Okay? My best friend, my brother, the only person I could ever talk to, ever relate to, was dead. What was I going to do? There was nothing I could do except for let myself be led away by this old man.
He led me to where a boy, maybe one or two years older than me (this was Ryter, or Spaz, at that point) was standing. Spaz joined him and the three of us walked off to where a takvee was waiting. There were already two others in there, a little boy of about five, and a beautiful proov girl. I was too stunned to think about the oddness at the moment, though. I just sat down on the seat and stared into nothingness.