New Baghdad, Holy Republic of Persia
2059 A.D.
The bullets were coming from everywhere. From rooftops. From around corners. From down streets. They left holes in walls. Holes in roads. Holes in the few cars.
PFC Dwayne Rogers’s pals were all gone. Smithers had got it quick, shot in the head. Gilkerson had taken two in the chest. Even Sergeant Watts was gone, a grenade having blown up in his face.
Everyone was dead. Everyone but Rogers. And he was hunkered down behind a rusted, dented, shot-up truck that rested on flat tires. He tried to return fire when he could. But that wasn’t often. The bullets were coming from everywhere.
***
Her hair was what Dwayne remembered best. How the sun spread like entwined gold across her hair. Usually she wore it long, down her back. That was how he liked it best. So that was how she wore it.
They had met in a café mere months before his basic training. They were in line waiting to order. They started talking. They ate together. They spent the next months together.
He saw her last the day he shipped out.
“I want to feel your breath upon my skin,” she had said.
“You will, Anna,” he’d promised.
***
An RPG exploded overhead, showering brick and mortar and dust. The grit and debris kicked up was too much for his eyes. Dwayne could not see.
He could only lie in the dirt street behind the ruins of a car. Screaming, screaming, screaming.
***
“You don’t have to go,” Anna had said.
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
Dwayne had chuckled. “If I don’t go, I’ll face strict disciplinary measures.”
“What is the worst they could do?”
“Prison,” he’d said.
Her bottom lip stuck out. She was pouting.
“Besides, I need to,” he had tried to explain. “I owe it my country. I owe it to my buddies.”
“Buddies?”
“The guys in my platoon.”
“What about me? Do you owe me?”
“Especially you.”
***
The explosion was gigantic. It tossed the car through the air to land on its side.
Flames were everywhere.
There was a blow to the head. Shrapnel. It struck hard enough to take off Dwayne’s helmet, nearly his head. A cut ran along his right temple, the blood flowing freely.
He nearly blacked out.
What brought him around was someone yelling.
Dwayne opened his eyes.
There was a corporal standing over him. The man’s lips moved in big, wide strokes.
There was a pop in his ears, and suddenly Dwayne could hear.
“How bad are you hit?” Corporal Dean asked over the din of gunfire.
There were other soldiers now. They were running past and bringing fire of their own to the fight.
In the distance were the screams of the dying enemy.
“Are you okay?” the corporal asked.
Dwayne blinked at the man.
***
Their last conversation. Over the phone.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
***
Dwayne was being dragged through the sandy street by the corporal yelling for a medic.
They were just entering a safe zone, out of combat and not quite back to base, when Dwayne lost it.
He couldn’t take it any more. He fought at the hand gripping him by the back of his armored vest. He rolled. He kicked. He pushed away.
The corporal finally let him go. “What’s wrong with you?”
Dwayne jumped to his feet. “Where’s Anna?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Where’s Anna?”
***
Personal communications devices were not allowed on base. The only link to the outside world was the mail.
As soon as the mail officer entered the hangar where the soldiers were billeted, Dwayne ran up to him. “Anything for me?”
The officer shook his head.
They’d been here a month. Not one letter from Anna. Dwayne had written her at least twice a week, but each of his envelopes had been returned with a marking that read “Address Unknown”.
***
“We’ve got an unwired one here!” the corporal yelled with gunfire still in the distance.
Suddenly a medic was on the scene. He rushed up to Dwayne and pulled a syringe from one of the hundreds of pockets lining his combat suit.
Dwayne jumped back.
The doc raised the needle. “It’s all right, son. I’m just going to give you something to calm you down.”
Then the man stuck the needle in Dwayne’s arm.
***
Dwayne lay unblinking on a cot. The beepings of a monitor to one side said he lived. A cloth bandage was wrapped around his head. Around him were surgeons and nurses running to and fro and wounded soldiers limping along, spilling blood.
The corporal led a doctor to the end of Dwayne’s cot.
The doc glanced at Dwayne’s medical chart. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Something happened with the Magus Insert,” the corporal said. “As soon as he entered combat, he froze up. Barely engaged the enemy. Started yelling some woman’s name.”
The doctor pointed at the chart. “Girlfriend. Anna Johnson.”
“Is he salvageable?”
“I think so.” The doctor leaned over Dwayne, looking into the unmoving eyes. “I’ll have to make some adjustments, but he should come around in a day or two.”
The corporal nodded and moved as if to walk away. Then he turned back. “I still don’t understand why we’re using the Magus Inserts. It seems unseemly.”
The doctor peeled away a small flesh-colored strip from the side of Dwayne’s neck to reveal an embedded microchip. He glanced back at the corporal. “It gives them something worth fighting for.”
The corporal stared into the still eyes of PFC Dwayne Rogers. He moved as if to turn away again, then stopped.
“Too bad he doesn’t know this woman doesn’t exist, is just an image we’ve created in his mind,” he said. “At least he won’t realize it until the war’s over.”
Ty Johnston has been writing short fiction for more than twenty years. When not busy writing or reading, he enjoys spending time with his wife, their beagle and three house rabbits. Find out more at tyjohnston.blogspot.com.
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25 Responses to “THE WAY THE SUNLIGHT LIES UPON HER HAIR • by Ty Johnston”
Comments
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April 14th, 2009 at 1:46 am
There is already at least one New Baghdad, and I believe there is also a market area of Baghdad itself called that.
April 14th, 2009 at 2:39 am
The scariest part it, such technology may actually be available long before 2059. Have you reseearched anything about the RFID verichips, and attempts to make chipping mandatory to military and law enforcement? The more I look into things, the more I realize that Big Brother put his big fat boot down on our faces while we weren’t looking.
April 14th, 2009 at 3:12 am
A great idea, well executed, except for a couple of things:
- The last paragraph is not necessary, and detracts from the story.
- “Even Sergeant Watts was gone, a grenade having blown up in his face.” This sentence is too mannerly; it doesn’t fit the style of the rest of the paragraph.
- “It seems unseemly.” That sentence seems unlikely.
Otherwise, nicely done with a consistent voice.
April 14th, 2009 at 4:20 am
There are tens of thousands of soldiers in ‘Persia’ right now. They’re not highly paid, they’re not conscripts and they don’t need implants for motivation.
April 14th, 2009 at 4:41 am
Even if not “perfectly” written, I was drawn in and couldn’t wait to see what would happen (and glad it was short fiction so I would find out quickly!) The ending is shocking and sad. As a woman who believes in the principles of nonviolence, I found the underlying theme compelling.
April 14th, 2009 at 5:03 am
I thought it was great. And yes – there might be thousands of brave men & women fighting right now. But recruitment figures are still down – I don’t know about the US army, but I know the UK forces are very severely over-stretched. Demography – apart from anything else – is just going to continue to bite more deeply, with birth rates still falling & less and less youngsters wanting to serve.
So I think it could be highly plausible & felt it was powerfully told. It got a 5 from me…
April 14th, 2009 at 5:33 am
This piece didn’t have an aura of authenticity about it. Much of the terminology was cliched and there were some very odd sentences, ie.
‘The bullets were coming … from around corners’
and
‘He … pulled a syringe from one of the hundreds of pockets lining his combat suit.’
April 14th, 2009 at 5:45 am
I like when a short story takes you by surprise as this one did on more than one occassion. You think it’s headed in one direction then it zips you off in another. There are a few polishing issues, already noted, that keep this from being a five star story, but it is certainly within reach. I’d work on the ending in particular. It lingers whereas I think it would work better as a quick hit and done.
April 14th, 2009 at 6:13 am
Good idea, the story told through the spinning mind and memory of a wounded soldier, Dwayne. The end section, Dwayne’s being found and placed in medical custody, could have been tightened, heightening the shock of the loss of Anna. Not enough description of the “magus inserts” which supposedly replace real girl friends and are a contrast to Dwayne’s real world and all he was fighting for and all he was losing.
I agree with Bob that the word “unseemly” doesn’t fit the soldiers’ jargon.
April 14th, 2009 at 6:35 am
Wow. As if going to war wasn’t horrible enough by itself.
Very good descripritions of war and what people go through. Showing the explosions and resulting injuries would have been enough, but the added twistof mind control added something. I’m actually glad the last paragraph was in there, as I hadn’t figured out the girlfriends were fake until then.
April 14th, 2009 at 6:36 am
Nice work. Maybe you could have done the flashbacks in present tense to up the immediacy.
April 14th, 2009 at 6:39 am
This doesn’t really need to be authentic–it’s fiction–but the concept of it could end up being more reality than science fiction. This is very disturbing and quite sad. Well written.
April 14th, 2009 at 6:48 am
‘Disturbing’ is probably the best description I’ve seen used so far. A good idea, well executed. It moved fast enough that I didn’t see the ending coming. Close enough to reality to hit home. A few minor technical issues which have already been mentioned, but very well done.
April 14th, 2009 at 6:53 am
It all sounded very authentic to me, except, perhaps, the “unseemly” part. But the ending was a real surprise, and frightening as well. Good job overall!
April 14th, 2009 at 7:18 am
I believe successful sci fi is only about two degrees off center of perceived reality. Philip Dick and John Bruner knew this. So the story works very, very well for me. I’m filled with shameless envy that I didn’t come up with your plot first. A chip is only a technological substitute for the brainwashing delivered in basic training–as I recall from my Fort Dix days.
April 14th, 2009 at 7:31 am
This story feels authentic to me and I disagree with the cliche comment. Maybe it’s because I don’t read a lot of male action stories so I’m not familiar with the jargon. I agree with Walt that it’s all about perceived reality in sci-fi and therefore we each bring our own experience to the piece and take from it what we can.
I found this story both entertaining and scary…like most of the SCI-FI I enjoy.
April 14th, 2009 at 7:36 am
Great story!
April 14th, 2009 at 10:04 am
Wow! I thoroughly enjoyed this. Well told. My only crit: I think the piece should have ended with “It gives them something worth fighting for.” Last two paragraphs seemed unnecessary.
April 14th, 2009 at 10:30 am
I liked the way the story was written. It gives so much more depth. Agree, the last two paragraphs seem to take a little strength away from the impact. Sometimes I find it hard to stop when I like what I am writing.
April 14th, 2009 at 12:39 pm
An excellent story idea. I love futuristic stories that don’t stray too far from our reality. I didn’t look at the genre and didn’t realise it was sci-fi until near the end.
Can’t add anything more than already said by others. I especially agree with RAS and Jerry. It would have more punch ending at “…something worth fighting for.”
April 14th, 2009 at 2:01 pm
This was just creepy. I did not see that ending coming! Some polishing would make it perfect. A very solid 4.
April 14th, 2009 at 2:38 pm
Nice concept. I read a lot of military SF, and I think the story had a fresh twist.
April 14th, 2009 at 6:12 pm
Great idea well delivered.
–dj
April 15th, 2009 at 7:34 am
This story really impresses itself in the mind. For me the three stars typed between “scenes” took some time for understanding just what was meant by the gap between scenes; maybe it’s usual in other media, such as writing for movies, I don’t know. But the writing is so good, it’s stronger than a camera would be and it would be too bad to lose it. I was trying as an exercise for myself to think of words which could create a transition between “scenes”, but they shrank the effect of the “scenes” juxtapositions. Maybe one of the new media combining imagery and movement on the electronic page along with the centrality of the written words would carry the reader easily and speedily along with the story’s violent spin and might be considered as one solution by such talents as Ty Johnston.
April 15th, 2009 at 6:39 pm
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