authorjulianneday

[authorjulianneday]

TRIAL TUESDAY | October 20, 2020

Challenge: Combine Cyberpunk + Mythology

Word Count: 1946

This is a bit of a throwback. I wrote it back in 2018 for a contest challenge and have edited it off and on since. It combines the myth of the sirens and the cyberpunk/sci fi genre.

CYBER SONG

Siren.

Like some sort of whispered threat, it always loomed over the inhabitants of Tech City Newport. Only natural, she supposed. They lived so near the James River. Ghost stories and tales of terrifying merpeople eked into every form of media the humans had. Pathetic, really.

Symphonia reached the sewer exit her contact had mentioned. Heaving herself out of the water, she grimaced. Waiting for her tail to fully molt and leave legs beneath, she began reconnaissance. Even down in this water runoff zone, lines of electricity fed the ravenous city above.

Scales and fibers lay about her, and what remained, she peeled off with her clawed fingers. She hissed in pain. The molting left behind two skinny limbs, translucent in the low light of the tunnel. Legs. So ugly. And so primitive.

Her legs gained more pigment the longer she waited. Gaining her balance, she rummaged through the chest of clothes in the stash used by Sirens. The fabric scratched at her new skin. It felt so fake, so synthetic.

Synthetic described everything the humans touched.

As much as she despised the buzzing hum of electricity it certainly sounded better than what she would deal with above ground. The constant chatter of voices in the megacity made her ill. Why couldn’t humans be content with silence?

A rusted metal ladder led up into the streets. When the Sirens had first investigated the city fifty years ago, they’d made sure to locate a spot in seclusion. Or, as close to seclusion as one could get.

She closed her eyes. Symphonia listened intently for the distinct tone that each auditory implant gave off. She heard only one nearby. It would be all too easy. Symphonia began to hum, matching the auditory implant’s tone, until she had gotten control of it. She held the tone with her honeyed voice, moving from a hum to a song. In the song she wove words of exhaustion and sleep. A few moments later something heavy dropped against the ground nearby.

Symphonia used her claws to force open the sewer cover, a smile on her pale lips. She heaved herself up into the street and instantly became bombarded by neon lights, the stench of dozens of food stalls, and raucous noise. Her nose crinkled in disgust. Synthetic.

She glanced around. Every time she came to the surface, something changed, and this was no different. Symphonia saw a new sign for some kind of body mod. If only humans realized the modifications led to increasing ease for the Sirens to take them down. She couldn’t see the sky, but that didn’t surprise her. Only the greys and blacks of concrete and rubber loomed overhead. Tech City Newport knew only artificial light, no sun; it had too many buildings and overpasses and walkways.

Her last contact had told her to head to the subcity New Wave. Leaving the small alley and going out into the bustling metropolis of the world the humans had created, Symphonia grimaced. Smoke wafted through the air and obscured the corners of the covered walkway.

The sound of bullets rang through the air in the distance. Symphonia studied the nearby humans immediately, and seeing they felt no danger, continued on her way. It seemed like every time she stalked Tech City Newport, gunshots peppered the air like rain on the waves at home. Another synthetic version of beauty, perverted by the filth of the humans.

She passed a massive food court and again became assaulted by the stench of humans. The sound of the grills and sloshing drinks caused her to cringe. She felt it. So she began to hum to herself, using a calming tone to resist the cacophony around her. Passing a condiment bar, she grabbed a handful of salt packets and stuck them in her pockets for later.

Heading into the elevator, she selected “New Wave” on the touch panel.

Symphonia chuckled out loud. New Wave sounded attractive; too bad it was filled with Modders and their filth and no water at all. Modders could only make trash. Not only did it end up down in her home, but it spilled out everywhere in Tech City Newport.

As the elevator moved upwards, she watched out the sides. From there she could see down into the megacity. Humans waddled about on land on their funny legs or sped by in their cars.

“New Wave.”

As the doors rolled open and she stepped out, Symphonia looked around carefully. New Wave always attracted a bad crowd, and it made perfect sense that her target had holed herself up there. Dr. Josey McMillian, PhDs in biochem, biotech, and engineering. Brilliant woman, according to the sirens’ sources. Brilliant enough to never install an auditory implant.

Symphonia shied away from a screaming machine to her right as she rounded a corner. Sparks flew from a welder repairing a pipe. The slight hum of various auditory implants sounded around her. Pinpointing the exact frequency she needed took concentration. At first she heard mostly nonsense, frequencies from random Modders loitering around on the New Wave level. Most gambled, some waited for black market deals. But eventually she caught the note of a man she’d been tipped off to.

A drink sat unattended on a food cart. Symphonia swiped it. Lifting the lid, She casually leaned against a wall, acting as one of the passersby with nowhere to go, and discreetly dumped three packets of salt into the drink. She could feel the sweats starting, and her arms hurt a bit. Muscle cramps.

She took a drink and nearly vomited. It tasted terribly of sugar, but she downed it. She needed the salt. It wouldn’t take long for the salt to act. Until then, she relaxed. When her arms stopped hurting and her tongue didn’t feel as dry, Symphonia listened in to the implant frequency. It sounded close by.

With a nod to herself, she went around the corner, still sipping on the straw casually. A door stood not far away in a darkened corner. Not suspicious at all. A man stood guard with a large rifle in his hands. His obvious synthetic eye would pinpoint her as having no body mods momentarily. Time to go to work.

“Hello sailor…don’t be afraid…” She continued on quietly, making sure only he could hear the song. It wouldn’t affect anyone else and they would instantly make her out as a Siren. “Keep quiet…good man…yes…stay quiet…”

She took out a folded piece of paper. Symphonia moved up to the man and, seeing him hopelessly under her control, she offered him the fake note. She knew they could see her on camera. “Let me in…and smile…”

He did as instructed, letting the computer read his ocular implant. The sterile grey door slid open without a sound. Her new warrior followed without hesitation. She just had to maintain her song. As a second door opened, they walked into a well lit laboratory. Tanks of various solutions stood around the room and in one was suspended a blue haired, blue skinned mermaid. Her eyes were open, but unseeing.

Rage filled Symphonia. She’d known Fortisima had been captured, but seeing her there, held like a slave by those she should’ve been devouring… Her song halted.

A groan from behind made her turn. The man she’d been controlling looked at her. She drew out the gun she’d swiped and shot the Modder through the skull. His scarlet blood splattered all over the door. Not the plan, but she’d make it work.

Two adjoining doors flew open. Symphonia ducked behind a counter. She reached out and tore the dead man’s automatic rifle out of his clammy hands and loaded it. Though certainly not as practiced as the humans, she knew her way around a firearm. Practice made perfect. As she heard them shouting for reinforcements, she popped up and shot them both. One died, the other did not, his skin made of metal of some sort. She grunted in anger. Synthetics.

Whipping around and leaping over the counter, Symphonia let her claws come out. One slash, and the wires in his neck broke. Of all the mods, cyber skulls were the most disgusting. Blood and oil dripped down her hands. She could taste the iron in the air.

A bullet grazed her arm and she cried out. Using the man’s dagger, she threw it straight into the ocular implant of the aggressor. Then, she found his frequency and sang. The gun entered his mouth. Symphonia narrowed her eyes. He dropped to the ground, a hole in his head.

Another appeared behind. Trying to fire again, the gun clicked. Symphonia grabbed a new one. But as she went to test it, it wouldn’t fire. She grimaced. A coded gun. She sent it sliding down the corridor in anger and slashed his throat. Grabbing an explosive from the closest dead Modder, she threw it down the hall after the gun. It went off with a bang.

She reached down and picked up two modded magnums. The handles molded to her grip instantly. Broken bodies lay strewn about the corridor. A man who had lost his leg screamed, writhing on the ground. He clawed at his burnt face. Symphonia paused. With a sigh, she put him out of his misery.

Symphonia split the air with a shriek. It rocked the building, and several vials shattered on the ground. The men on the other side of the door cried out. Their auditory implants broke apart on the inside. Rendered deaf, they staggered about disoriented.

A woman shook her head. Black haired, blue eyed, no body mods to speak of, and only momentarily dazed. She screamed at the disoriented soldiers and kicked one. Her lab coat had been stained with blood. “I paid you louses for protection!” 

“Poor protection.” Symphonia’s voice lilted across the room as she stood in the doorway. Before anyone else could react, she’d taken out half the men, leaving four groping for their weapons. Symphonia leapt forward, dodging the doctor’s bullets, and used one of them as a human shield. His body filled with bullets. She threw him at the woman. In her effort to sidestep, she hit her head on a table.

Symphonia turned on the remaining three.  One she sang to, and a second became another shield. Riddled with bullet wounds, Symphonia slit his throat. The last two died screaming.

Pain shot through her arm. The small bullet wound from earlier bled down her pale skin. Symphonia tasted it. She needed more salt, more ocean water. As the doctor reached her weapon, Symphonia kicked over a metal table. It crashed into the woman.

With the doctor pinned, Symphonia stood over her. She disposed of her weapons. It would only take a swipe of her claws to end the woman’s life. “Any last words?”

Through heaving breaths, the woman laughed. Blood clogged her mouth. With a last spit, she just shook her head. “Whatever your mission is? It’s a failure. Your friend is dead.”

“You were my mission.”

Her target died without a scream.

One last duty remained. No human could be allowed to retain the body of a mer. The woman’s blue tail had already molted away from the lack of liquid, but her naked body still had a tint of blue. In the back of the laboratory, tubs of gasoline for the Modders sat unbroken. She grabbed two and soaked the entire place, pouring the last bit over Fortisima.

Symphonia lit the trail of gasoline from the entrance and watched as it engulfed the lab. Her only safety lay in the water. Away from the Mods, away from the synthetics.

[authorjulianneday]

TRIUMPH THURSDAY | October 8, 2020

TRIUMPH: (n) the joy or exultation of victory or success

Triumph Thursday is your weekly reminder that every day you work at your writing is a victory. It’s your weekly reminder that there is good in this world (and it’s worth fighting for). It’s your weekly reminder that we’re in this together. 

Welcome to Triumph Thursday!

Today, I’m going to share some of my favorite quotes from Walt Disney. I had the privilege of working at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom for a few months in early 2020, before COVID-19 shut down the theme parks. That fulfilled a life long dream of mine. I still have a white board at my parents’ house that has had the words “I will work for Disney” scrawled on it for the past eight years, untouched. 

One of the things that sets Walt Disney apart for me was his vision and his love for people. His films and shows are full of inspiring one liners, but the man himself was a treasure trove of battle cries for the creative mind. So let’s look at a few:

“Laughter is timeless, imagination has no age, dreams are forever.”

It really does us no favors to “grow up” without retaining our inner child. It’s from our inner child that we get our innovation and passion. Imagination is fostered in our youth. Growing up should never come at the cost of our dreams. As someone in my mid twenties, I have made it a point to try to balance the rigorous struggles of adulthood with the joy of childhood.

“You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.”

Oh man, has this quote ever been true for me! In my author journey, I have learned first hand from my own experiences and the experiences of my author friends around me: rejection, mistakes, failures are part of this journey. They are part of turning the creative life into a full on lifestyle. And that’s ok. It doesn’t mean it won’t sting. But if we reframe our thoughts to remember that failure, mistakes, rejections are just how we learn, it becomes so much easier to grow!

“You can design and create, and build the most wonderful place in the world. But it takes people to make the dream a reality.”

None of us are in this journey alone. Someone out there enjoys our work. Someone out there will walk with us as we move down the path. We have editors, beta readers, sensitivity readers, publishers, cover makers, friends, family, fans! No matter how much work we ourselves put into our content, it does everyone including us a disservice to not acknowledge the support of the people around us. We’re all in this together, to coin another Disney phrase. 

[authorjulianneday]

Thank you so much!

About Me! Julianne Day, Author

If there’s one thing…

…I’ve come to realize about life, it’s that the most dangerous force in the world is apathy. Apathy saps our ability to innovate, to invent, to move forward. It sucks the life out of… well, life! 

I don’t know about you, but I’m not willing to settle. Life is hard. Life sucks sometimes, even without apathy to drain us. Sometimes, Life will kick you in the stomach and then laugh. But Life has meaning. Life is beautiful, and strange, and downright bizarre. The experiences of Life are what make us laugh. They make us cry. Our capacity to understand the world around us is what makes us human. Understanding that, that’s what it means to be alive. 

And some of us decide to write, because apparently experiencing the craziness of Life first hand isn’t enough!

Keep reading

[authorjulianneday]

About Me! Julianne Day, Author

If there’s one thing…

…I’ve come to realize about life, it’s that the most dangerous force in the world is apathy. Apathy saps our ability to innovate, to invent, to move forward. It sucks the life out of… well, life! 

I don’t know about you, but I’m not willing to settle. Life is hard. Life sucks sometimes, even without apathy to drain us. Sometimes, Life will kick you in the stomach and then laugh. But Life has meaning. Life is beautiful, and strange, and downright bizarre. The experiences of Life are what make us laugh. They make us cry. Our capacity to understand the world around us is what makes us human. Understanding that, that’s what it means to be alive. 

And some of us decide to write, because apparently experiencing the craziness of Life first hand isn’t enough!

Keep reading

[authorjulianneday]

About Me! Julianne Day, Author

If there’s one thing...

...I’ve come to realize about life, it’s that the most dangerous force in the world is apathy. Apathy saps our ability to innovate, to invent, to move forward. It sucks the life out of... well, life! 

I don’t know about you, but I’m not willing to settle. Life is hard. Life sucks sometimes, even without apathy to drain us. Sometimes, Life will kick you in the stomach and then laugh. But Life has meaning. Life is beautiful, and strange, and downright bizarre. The experiences of Life are what make us laugh. They make us cry. Our capacity to understand the world around us is what makes us human. Understanding that, that’s what it means to be alive. 

And some of us decide to write, because apparently experiencing the craziness of Life first hand isn’t enough!

Does that make all of us who write overachievers? We’re already out there on the front lines battling apathy by spinning tales to create entertainment for humanity. How cool is that? We get to lie for a living. It’s a game (no not a board game... well, kind of). I love to write for many reasons, not least of all because creativity and creation is one of our chief weapons against apathy. 

So, who am I?

I suppose I should start with my name. I’m Julianne Day. I got my start in writing nearly a decade ago with fan fiction. Fan fiction is where I found people fighting apathy through their love of writing and their love characters and worlds. Sometime around the end of high school, I decided maybe I’d want to be an author full time. 

Everyone laughed at me.

I laughed right back.

I learned something very early on in my pursuit of the arts. No one thinks we can do it. And on the one hand, they have a point. It’s hard as hell. Being a writer (or musician, or artist...) is full of rejection, trial and error, leaving comfort zones, and always remembering that we are not “too cool” for 9-5 jobs or working in the service industry. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. And more than that, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still strive to our goals.

If our goals were easy to achieve, they would mean nothing.

In college I started submitting to literary magazines. I have a few accepted pieces, and I’m constantly striving to produce more. I’m constantly drafting a couple novels. I still write fan fiction. I will never turn my back on fan fiction, as it is such a wonderful tool to expose ourselves to new genres, new perspectives, and new techniques without the pressure of writing for publication.

But some of my other favorite things to do are experiment and teach. Now back in school, I’m working towards an English (writing) degree with the goal of teaching English in High School, including Creative Writing. I figured why not have some fun in the mean time.

I mentioned fan fiction as a great way to experiment with writing. Well, it doesn’t have to be fan fiction. On this page, I’ll be drafting up pieces combining genres and prompts and techniques, some wholly unfamiliar. My experience is in writing fantasy and historical fiction. But where’s the fun in stagnation? I recently wrote a post-apocalyptic, fractured retelling of the classic Aesop’s Fable, The Boy Who Cried Wolf! 

So, if you’re hanging around my space, send me anything. Send me genres. Send me prompts. Send me crazy character ideas. Send me all the above, together! I’ll see if I can write something with it, and then sit down and explain any techniques I used.

Stay Triumphant, Friends

If you would like to read my fan fiction, check out

Archive of Our Own

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