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A Silent Soliloquy

A Silent Soliloquy

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A Silent Soliloquy

Länge:
110 Seiten
1 Stunde
Herausgeber:
Freigegeben:
Jul 6, 2015
ISBN:
9781311609175
Format:
Buch

Beschreibung

TIPPIE was created to be a weapon. By all appearances, she's an ordinary girl of 18, and she uses that to her advantage in her work for The Facility. What no one sees is that there's another girl buried deep inside. She can't speak or control the movements of the body she inhabits. As TIPPIE's silent passenger, she can only observe. She uses the details she learns from TIPPIE's work to reconstruct the stories of other people's lives. It helps her feel a little more connected to the world she can only watch.

When TIPPIE's work leads her to David, a young man with a haunted past and information that The Facility wants, TIPPIE uses her skills to earn his trust. The silent girl beneath the surface knows that TIPPIE is only going to hurt him, but she can't help but feel for him. Those feelings only grow, but she knows all too well that TIPPIE's work will soon come to an end.

Herausgeber:
Freigegeben:
Jul 6, 2015
ISBN:
9781311609175
Format:
Buch

Über den Autor

L.G. Keltner spends most of her time trying to write while also cleaning up after her crazy but wonderful kids and hanging out with her husband. Her favorite genre of all time is science fiction, and she’s been trying to write novels since the age of six. Needless to say, those earliest attempts weren’t all that good.Her non-writing hobbies include astronomy and playing Trivial Pursuit.


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A Silent Soliloquy - L.G. Keltner

A Silent Soliloquy

L.G. Keltner

A Silent Soliloquy

Copyright 2015 by L.G. Keltner

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by L.G. Keltner. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to any institutions, businesses, or locales is purely coincidental.

Cover Art by Devross

This book is dedicated to my husband and children. Thank you for not only putting up with me, but for also encouraging me.

Table of Contents

I. Violations

II. Anything For Love

III. The Burden of the Unspoken

IV. Reflections of Regret

V. The Final Act

I.Violations

Present Day (2095 C.E.)

Goose bumps form on our skin thanks to the thin material of the jacket we wear, but I don’t dwell on it. My mind is preoccupied with other things. The streets are bathed in shadow, only the faintest hint of moonlight reflecting off the damp pavement. It’s well past curfew, so there are no pedestrians in sight. No vehicles other than official transport are allowed on the road at this time of night. Should an enforcement vehicle happen by, I know we will look suspicious. Not that I’m concerned about getting in trouble. We have all the proper documentation. It would simply be a minor inconvenience. Well, it would be to her anyway. I have no role in the task at hand, but as usual, I’m left with no choice but to go along with the ride.

I can’t say that I’m living the life I want. In fact, it seems to be the exact opposite most of the time. Being barely eighteen is confusing enough for normal people as far as I can tell. My so-called peers are graduating high school, preparing to enter into the adult world of either state-mandated college training courses or lower-tier jobs. Their lives may not be ideal in their eyes, but they could certainly have it a lot worse.

Yeah, yeah. Lots of people say crap like that. I know what you’re thinking. She’s just another kid who feels like she shouldn’t have to earn her way in the world. She doesn’t want to take responsibility for the problems in her life. Don’t deny it. You may never hear a word I say, but I can read you. What else do I have to do but study how normal people operate?

My future, being nonexistent as it is, has left me outside the normal track. I am who I am now because, at some point in my hazy past, this body I inhabit landed outside the established two-track system and got stuck in the invisible place below.

I may sound morbid, but I think you’ll soon understand why.

Our code name is TIPPIE, though I don’t identify with it. TIPPIE stands for Transmutable Independent Personality Performer and Interactive Entity. Sometimes I wonder how long it took that room full of smart people to come up with an acronym to make a suitable female name. It feels forced, in my opinion. However, its basic meaning is important. It means that this body can mimic any personality type as needed and use those skills to manipulate others. If TIPPIE needs to be confident, she can become the most confident person you’ve ever encountered. She can be the most charming. She can appear vulnerable. Or seductive. Meanwhile, I have no choice in the matter. TIPPIE is the personality people see, and she adapts automatically to any given situation. She’s an all-in-one master manipulator masquerading as a normal human being. I am only a passenger in this body. I have no voice. I have no control.

Sometimes I wish I could remember my birth name, or what my parents looked like, or even if I had a family at all. Who would I have grown up to be? I’m an orphan from a lower-tier family. That’s the most TIPPIE has been told about our history. The government accepting me into their program was an act of supreme mercy and generosity.

At least, that’s what our keepers would have us believe. It could all be a lie.

For all I know, I might not even exist if it weren’t for my keepers. Am I the personality that would have been had I not become a ward of the state at a young age? I assume so, if only because I take some small comfort in believing that I have a right to exist, but I could also be an accident, a sub-personality that’s never been able to emerge. Maybe the real girl who was born into this body was wiped out during the programming process. Or maybe I’m simply TIPPIE’s conscience, and I’ve been chipped away and submerged so she can be what they need her to be. In any case, it makes no real difference. I can’t talk to anyone. I can’t ask questions. I can’t tell anyone how I feel. No one will ever have a chance to know me.

More than anything, I wish someone could actually hear me. So for now, if you don’t mind, I’ll act as if someone is listening. I’ll address you, my imaginary audience, and I’ll imagine that you’re intelligent and sympathetic people. The kind who might care about my plight once you get to know me.

You can call me Tips. Most people have. I prefer it that way, though my personal preference has nothing to do with it. Most people would rather use a one syllable name rather than two. Why? Laziness, I suppose. Brevity may be desirable from time to time, but more often than not, it’s the result of a desire to do or say as little as possible.

I apologize in advance for my cynicism. It’s difficult not to be cynical when you live in my shoes.

As I reach the familiar alleyway that’s marinated in darkness by the lack of streetlights in this neighborhood (can’t be wasting money on lower-tier neighborhoods, after all), a fuzziness overtakes my thoughts. This otherwise odd occurrence has been coming to me a lot lately. Luckily for my keepers, TIPPIE was built to be immune to such trivial reactions, especially where they could endanger the mission at hand. She doesn’t have time for such things, while these little distractions make me feel almost human.

We’ve been meeting David in this alley once a week for the past month. He isn’t here yet, so TIPPIE sits down to wait on the broken marble bench. It clearly doesn’t belong here, the smooth black surface a memory of better times. The legs have been broken away, the bulk of it discarded here in the shadows, out of sight of any vehicles that may happen by. Whatever the story of the bench may be, it makes for a good place to meet. It’s private, but it’s also open enough to allow for a quick escape.

The chill of the stone seeps through our jeans as I let my thoughts wander. TIPPIE’s gaze remains, as always, vigilant. I can trust that if anything alarm-worthy were to happen, she would catch it immediately.

You may be curious about why we’re meeting David in a secluded alley in the middle of the night. Our keepers assigned TIPPIE to an important mission. David is a verified member of a resistance movement that’s been causing the government all kinds of trouble. The hope is that by meeting with him, we will gain access to the group’s leader.

We’ve been able to determine the identity of their leader through our intelligence-gathering efforts, but we haven’t been able to catch her. Her name is Lassandra Rourke. She supposedly knows the identity and location of other leaders in other rebel groups around the country. If we can catch her, we can effectively dismantle the resistance.

Of course, our keepers have known disappointment before. Gabriel Pilkington, the leader of a group that runs an underground railroad, didn’t provide as much vital information as our keepers had hoped he would when we captured him a couple months ago, but he led us to David. That’s got to be worth

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