I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of reality. Basically our understanding of the universe we live in emanates from our senses. Inside our head we receive ‘electrical’ input from our nerves, messages that relay information about light, sound, tastes, smell and touch. We build those electrical impulses into a ‘picture’, a view of the infinite universe in which we live. We call that reality.

Is it reality?

What is it?

So I had this idea: what if there was an extremely intelligent person whose sensory nerve input was non-existent. They would have no knowledge of the outside world. What would their reality be?

The rest proceeded from there. I created a story. This is it.

Green – Chapter 1

A flash of orange light exploded in the room with dazzling intensity.

            ‘WHOOOOOOOOMP!!’

            The shockwave, following right behind, resounded with an echoey thud that hit the two people in the apartment  with a solid thump.

            Unperturbed, infact looking bored, President Jane Muller sauntered across the room and surveyed the huge burgeoning mushroom cloud now filling the  whole of the far side of the lounge area where her husband was sitting, with a look of critical annoyance. The explosion formed a livid ball of blazing incandescent heat swirling through inky black smoke that rolling and boiling its way up towards the ceiling. An angry red glow played across the skin of her face. The livid acrid smell of the smoke filled her mouth and nose with a scorching, choking intensity.

            Still she was unmoved.

            With no more than a frown she turned her attention away from the scene and directed it towards the reclining figure of her husband who was still carelessly sprawled in his usual place in his favourite chair.

            ” I do wish they would give some warning that they are going to do that,” she remarked, adjusting the intensity controls of the monitor in passing. It irritated her the way he always had the VD turned up so high.

Her eyes caught her reflection in the large mirrored surface beside the door causing her to tighten her lips in a grimace of disapproval. The grey unipiece business suit and cropped hair presented the conservative, almost military bearing and hard-nosed image that she sought to foster but it could hardly be considered flattering. She turned slightly, pulling in her stomach tight and assessing the effect, tilting her chin quizzically. It wasn’t getting any better. Her frown intensified and her attention wandered back to the fire that was still raging at the end of the room.

            Reaching the chair occupied by her husband Deryk, who was still studying the unfolding scene of devastation, she joined him in his assessment.

            “……Appears the LPL have claimed yet more victims early this morning,” the commentator droned as the camera panned away from the ravaged chemical works to the panic and chaos surrounding the plant. “Following a message received in the early hours of the morning a huge thermite device was exploded in the works. Frantic efforts to find the device and shut down the plant failed and the IntSol Company say that insufficient warning was given.”

            Deryk glanced up at her with a smile of greeting.

            “Twenty people have been reported dead and there are many more missing. IntSol sources say that the final death toll will almost certainly reach into three figures.” The grim face of the commentator loomed out at them superimposed on the billowing clouds of the explosion, seemingly hanging there adrift in the air like a huge decapitated balloon.

            “LPL still at it then,” Deryk observed dryly.

            Jane Muller sighed but did not bother to reply. They both continued to stare morosely at the violent pictures unfolding before them.

            “The only saving grace to this tragedy is that the explosion was timed to go off in the slack period between shifts in the early hours of the morning. This is a time when the plant is only manned by a skeleton crew sufficient to run the computations and deal with emergencies. At any other time the death toll would certainly have reached into the thousands.”

            “The device appears to have been planted close to a pipe-line containing the new and highly inflammable DL17 rocket propellant. The initial explosions setting off a series of gigantic secondary explosions that ripped their way into the heart of the complex.”

            “Survivors report huge shock-waves destroying all building in the vicinity followed by a rushing wall of flame whose searing heat engulfed streets and buildings.”

            “A spokesperson for……………..”

            Deryk shook his head and pushed himself out of the chair, patted her hand and wandered out of the room.

            Jane continued to frown whimsically at the image still billowing infront of her, her thoughts momentarily caught up in the report. The scene behind the commentator changed to a sweeping panoramic view of the plant taken prior to the explosion. It showed an orderly complex of gantries and pipe-lines intermeshing with buildings and storage tanks. The image was clear and sharp and had obviously been taken after the rains when the plant was not shrouded in its usual mantle of smog.

            With an even bigger sigh she deepened her scowl and pulled herself upright from the chair, stretching, suddenly overcome with fatigue and weariness. Her attention wandered to the Massalax. She was desperately in need of a period of calm and peace to drain some of that tension away. Things were not getting any easier. She was tired and hungry. The question was which to deal with first? A quick meal and a calming drink or an ultra-sound massage to calm the mind and ease the muscles? They were both equally enticing.

            With a practised jerk she tugged at the release straps on her suit and felt the seams relax to safety grip. Absently dialling in the code on the tunic belt she released the security grips and shrugged off the loosened fabric of her uniform to fling it in the nearest disposal chute. Tugging on the connector tabs she disengaged her underwear and they followed the suit down the chute.

            She stood there for a moment as the soft light of the VD played across her naked body assessing her profile in the mirror. It was a nice full figure, amply proportioned with little signs of the flabbiness of ageing. But then it ought to be with the amount of drugs and beauty treatment she had lavished upon it over the course of the years. She eyed herself coldly, running her critical eyes over her weaker points for signs that might point to the need for further treatments. Were her buttocks beginning to sag a little? Her breasts a shade too full? And her cheeks were definitely showing signs of droop. But then that could just be the tiredness. Even so, perhaps it was time to book another appointment with Stefan. It wouldn’t do an harm would it?

            Resignedly she stepped into the Massalax. Age was a tiresome inconvenience that she could do without. Her presence triggered the mechanism and she felt the invisible forces closing around her as the luxurious waves passed back and forth across her skin soothing and massaging the tired tissues. She let herself go, sensually closing her eyes and relaxing into the flow of the energising programme.

Green: Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798648134003: Books