The Border
The Border
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Summary:
A short RCPA tale about a Border Guard.
General Critique
ASIACOM tended to see more action from the displeased population
May be best to elaborate just a little on it. Only a few words. Adds a little more to world building.
(when they appeared) was done by two other office
You don't need to have it be in parentheses, you can just have commas between the interrupter.
There it was. Mihail Filip. WESTCOM. Civilian Security Officer. Under Surveillance. Mihail Filip. Under Surveillance. Under Surveillance.
The idea of the word repeating in his mind was done very well. Please keep this no matter what.
Concept Critique
I can tell that Orwell was a major inspiration for your work, and you match the style very well overall. Truthfully, there is very little I can offer in terms of grammar critiques and when looking at this just see one simple problem. Just a minor world building problem where you will introduce things and never say what they mean, such as with the EastCom issue. It would not hurt to spare just a few words discussing it, I don't think it warrants a whole sentence. I get this a glimpse in someone's life, but it would be a lot better if it also acted as glimpse into someone's world. Overall this is a good short story and I look forward to seeing it done.
Dreams. Each man longs to pursue his dream. Each man is tortured by this dream, but the dream gives meaning to his life. Even if the dream ruins his life, man cannot allow himself to leave it behind. In this world, is man ever able to possess anything more solid, than a dream?
~Kentaro Miura
Crit
——
brushing by the dull plaque that designated him as Engineer #407.
To
brushing some dust off his plaque, his worker ID, name, Engineer #407.
——
From inside, a small black stick was retrieved. He placed it into his mouth, snapped its flimsy edge, and inhaled deeply.
To
He retrieved a small black stick from his pocket. Placing it into his moth, he carefully snapped off it’s flimsy cap and inhaled.
——
It was hard for him to imagine that just a few years prior, the ship Engineers — who oftentimes spend months in the underbelly of the cargo vessels — had to survive the long space travels without the ashless, cold-burning cigarettes which could be smoked aboard.
To
It was hard for him to imagine that just a few years prior, the ship Engineers — who oftentimes spent months in the underbelly of the cargo ship — had no ash-less, cold-burning cigarette to help ease the the stress of space travel.
——
Antonio took a moment to inspect his makeshift weapon. It was a flimsy thing, scratched and bruised like an aluminum can.
To
Antonio took a moment to admire his makeshift weapon. It was a flimsy thing, scratched and bruised like the pipes that twisted and contorted around him.
——
Still, it was comfortable in hand and better use of his flares. For an Engineer comes to learn that there is nobody to answer his flares — his calls for help. Down here, they are alone.
To
Still, it was comfortable in his brutal hands. A Engineer comes to learn that there is nobody who will answer your flares — except the vultures. Down here, you have no one but your weapon.
——
To his right, many motivational imprints were busily fading from the wall of his operation deck.
To
To his right he glimpsed the faded imprint of a motivational slogan sketched into the wall of his operation deck.
——
He always hated those things, for it was essential for his employers to fill them with compliments that were meant to be interpreted by most species.
To
He hated them. Hollow messages from the employers. They could be interpreted by most species, but vague enough to mean nothing.
——
This one seemed decent in quality, unlike the one he worked on during his previous rotation.
To
This one seemed mechanically decent, compared to the ones he’d worked on his last few shifts.
——
This could actually be a good day. He is still entitled to his monthly auto-infirmary visit. He can pick up his rations and flares soon. His special request for the new environmental lighting was approved. Better yet, he was excused from working in the Pit until the light issue was sorted out.
His employers were harsh — demanding. All his equipment was mass-produced with the same care given to tissue packets and all his rations were fatty, yet barely filling. Still, they were wise enough to realize that a blacksmith cannot bend metal with his hands alone.
To
This could actually be a good day. He was still entitled to his monthly auto-infirmary visit. Rations and flares would soon be available for pickup, even if the food was fatty and hardly filling. The special request for new environmental lighting was approved. That’d mean, he was excused from working in the Pit until the lighting issue was sorted.
His work was hell — but the pit was the maw of Lucifer.
——
In the distance, Antonio saw the phosphorous white shine of a flare. He squinted at the flame, estimating its location. Seeing a flare wasted like this made him wince. Flares were everything here: currency, weapons, your only protection. Wasting them on signaling for help was like throwing money directly into the fire. It was likely some newcomer trying to signal for help.
To
In the distance, Antonio saw the white phosphorous shine of a flare. He squinted at the flame, estimating multiple had been fired into an enclosed location. Wasted flares, he thought. This made him wince. It was like watching a starving man blast a basket full of apples out an airlock. This engineer was a fool, likely some newcomer frantically trying to signal for help.
——
An idiot. Antonio ran, hoping for contact if nothing else. Five weeks passed since he saw another Engineer, did they not? He could scold the man. He could assert his authority over him. Through his control of the other, he could control his life.
There was a body huddled against the hull; a human.
To
An idiot, but a living idiot. I’d been five weeks since Antonio had seen another living Engineer. He he ran, hoping for contact if nothing else. He could scold the man. He could assert his authority over him. Maybe have some sense of power in this eldritch maze.
All his fantasies came crashing down when he noticed the huddled body against the hull.
——
His left leg bent to the side like a twig. He was stripped with the ferocity of the vultures. Instead of its skin, however, it was the equipment that was missing — all of it. Just seeing that cold-touched skin made Antonio fasten his uniform tighter against his body. For all its flaws, such a thin layer of clothing insulated well.
To
A human, with a mangled left leg. They’d been stripped with such ferocity, patches of skin had been torn off. All their equipment was missing — all of it. Just seeing that cold-touched skin made Antonio fasten his uniform tighter against His left leg bent to the side like a twig. He was stripped with the ferocity of the vultures. Instead of its skin, however, it was the equipment that was missing — all of it. Just seeing that cold-touched skin made Antonio fasten his uniform tighter against his body. For all its flaws, such a thin layer of clothing insulated well his body. Who ever had done this, was barbaric and no qualms killing.
——
Antonio saw himself kneeling above locked drainage. It wasn’t a perfect him, he reckoned, for his real eyes were of a more greenish-blue rather than the fake's deep turquoise. He quickly fired a flare aimed directly at the drain, forcing the Antonio-shaped thing to jump away like a leaping insect as the room filled with the burning white flame. Antonio turned towards it, reloading the flare gun while maintaining difficult eye contact with a metallic click.
To
Antonio thought he was looking at a mirror for a second, before realization struck him. A copy of himself kneeling above locked drainage, starring back at him. It wasn’t a perfect copy, his real eyes were more greenish-blue rather than the exaggerated deep turquoise of the fake’s. He quickly fired a flare aimed directly at the drain, forcing the Antonio-shaped thing to jump away like an insect. As the room filled with the burning white flame, Antonio turned towards it. Reloading the flare gun, he maintaining eye contact, staring down the copy.
——
The eye contact could not be maintained, for the creature soon lost its vulture eyes which did a poor job of replicating Antonio’s sheep-like expression. Its skin fell off with the grace of a peeled apple, leaving five pieces of dangling muscle tissue.
To
Eye contact could not be maintained, for the creature expunged it’s human like features. Its skin fell off with the grace of a peeled apple, leaving five pieces of dangling muscle tissue.
——
Note I did this during a slow period on my job, so if I derped anywhere in this crit, lmk.
the job of Officer Mihail Filip easier than it already was.
'the job of' makes it sound weird. Just saying 'Officer Mihail Filip's job' sounds more natural.
In the past, it took both time and effort for him to painstakingly look over every passport and use the best of his judgment to see if the monochrome faces matched those of the hundreds of men presenting themselves to him daily.
This is an extremely long and verbose way to say that Officer Filip's job used to be more tedious and that he once had to approve or deny passports with his own judgment and not the machine.
He looked down at the black screen, its darkness colored by lines of red and blue and purple and orange and white which formed into words, phrases, and shapes.
All the 'and' is awkward. Suggestion: separate the colors by comma, then put an and only at the last color.
E.G.: 'red, blue, purple, orange, and white.'
He was built like a swan and had the face of a rat.
Interesting analogy. Does this mean he had a nice body and an ugly face? Not sure how to feel about this tbh.
southmost
southernmost* I think.
It was then when Mihail’s task of cleaning up the booth began.
Super clunky wording.
'Mihail then began his task of cleaning up the booth.'
its mechanical and electrical parts acting with the same level of finesse as the muscle tissue of a dying animal.
Okay, I loved this analogy. Ironically enough, it's also quite relatable because my own laptop is a piece of shit.
Monotonously, he walked back to the terminal to see if the screen still displayed anything coherent.
Not sure if I agree with 'monotonously.' I'm aware his job is monotonous, but still.
My final opinion:
All in all…not bad at all!
I think the prose and mechanical structuring of the sentences could use a bit of trimming and slight readjusting, perhaps with the help of someone who is more skilled at it than I, but I really like what I read.
I'm not well versed on RCPA at all, so I don't really follow what's going on, but your tale did a good job at making me want to dig further into their universe.
I see that Filip's job is monotonous as fuck. I get the feeling that the failed explosion probably glitched the system to implicate him.
Either that, or the RCPA sent the thing to kill him, failed, and decided to just Unrighteous him themselves.
Either that, or this is just a series of unfortunate, yet unrelated events just befalling our poor Filip.
Either way, I got a feel for this crapsack world.
Makes me want to read more RCPA.
/forum/t-14241479/the-border#post-
