Here Was Caraggia
LAST FEATURE for free subscribers! Get hip (by clicking on the 'Account' button and upgrading). And thank you to everyone who already has! You make me feel like a professional and stuff.
The series 'The Montreal Project' ([01] was last week's feature) is growing in scope and approach. I'm tending to it and tidying up some details and it looks there we be quite a few installments. [02] on its way next week.
Today saw the publication of Smokelong Quarterly's Award for Flash Fiction. My piece 'National Bird' was one of nine finalists. The editors did an impressive job curating a diverse set of stories, and I really enjoyed reading all of them. There are cool interviews, artist bios, and audio tracks for each piece as well. Take a look:
Mizuki Yamagen
Okay this week's Feature:
'Here Was Caraggia' was my inaugural entry in an ongoing series of contests known as the 'Writing Battle'. It was a lot of fun to work on, though I'll admit keeping up with the responsibilities of reading and responding to everyone who participated proved a challenge. They have new competitions every few weeks and I definitely encourage you to check it out and even join one if you're curious. The community is really vibrant and supportive.
The idea is simple: you're given 3 prompts to work from and a word limit. Mine were 'sci-fi', 'mystery box', and 'tycoon'. Writers have the option to re-roll their prompts but I felt totally comfortable with mine and just ran with it. The idea materialized quickly; revisions and edits to stay within the word limit made for most of the work.
Anyway, it didn't win anything but I got some great feedback. A lot of what I heard was that it was maybe too subtle, and that it felt like the first chapter of something. Maybe it is. I enjoyed the worldbuilding and establishing the characters. If I can find a hook it may just become something longer. I certainly read enough science fiction that it felt like a suspiciously familiar space to work in.
I included the feedback after the story below if you're curious. The last question cracks me up:
Also, what is she president of?
Answer? EVERYTHING. One cool thing about flash fiction is you don't necessarily feel a lot of pressure to explain things. But I get it.
I also see a lot of things I would clean up if I tried to do something else with this so the whole exercise was useful.
Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Also for fellow sci-fi nerds: there are some Easter Eggs in here, especially with respect to character names. Feel free to hit me up if you recognize anything.
Ok! Here's Caraggia.
-JA
Here Was Caraggia
At the meeting’s conclusion the simulated board room dissolved around her.
The cube was still on her desk, as black and inert as it had been when it was delivered that morning. In the spare and angular décor of her penthouse office suite the object was an inky smudge. About a meter square, it looked dense, and seemed somehow to vibrate in its stillness.
She’d commanded Caraggia, the new research director, to build her something. The box arrived ahead of schedule, accompanied only by a single suggestion and a cost summary making the ridiculous claim that the project had been completed at 100% under budget. This last detail was almost surely a mistake, or a poor attempt at a joke. She would have it explained.
She considered what she knew of this man, this Caraggia. He’d been instrumental in the subjugation of some dozen planets before his recruitment to headquarters. He was said to be cunning as well as generous, and creatively peerless in his field.
With the distraction of the uprisings in recent months she’d been afforded little time to focus on personnel. This would be an opportunity to learn more about the man.
Still, she’d been reckless, and she knew it. She’d bypassed all protocol in commissioning the project. The cube could contain a release for toxins, or a gravity bomb.
She was intrigued by the novelty of doing something on her own for once. The intimacy of it.
Which, she conceded, was a stretch. Still, the engineers and builders and scientists at her command were extensions of her own talents. She may not be an artist in the traditional sense but having an army of elite inventors on call was, functionally, far more useful and impressive.
She recalled her predecessor’s counsel as he prepared to retire and take a shuttle to a pleasure planet in the Bulge: once you’ve gained control of the known universe, what’s left but to experiment?
She stood. She felt warmer than she should. She looked again at the box, accusatory. It had been years since she’d known trepidation or fear.
She’d used cortisol suppressants since she’d made Prime Chair. The ability to control one’s fight or flight response was an obvious advantage and she’d enjoyed the benefits many times over. Just ask the insurrectionists, burning in their millions, if she was concerned about potential threats.
The digital tag accompanying the box suggested only that she be “open to the experience”, whatever that meant.
She’d switched off the inhibitor’s flow without lingering over the decision, just before the day’s meeting with her sector commanders. Only two reports in and already she felt a thrill as anxiety crept its way through her lower torso. It was like the first stirrings of pregnancy, or orgasm, then it crested and spread through her limbs on electric currents.
It was dangerous, this lack of control. She sensed she was on the verge of revealing weakness as Shepard went on about whatever was happening with the lunar shipping lanes. She knew the situation was serious, one that could cost her everything if she didn’t act. And she’d wanted to stay in that moment, suspended in uncertainty.
Of course suppression was not without its price. Other experiences were dulled, or so mundane that they lost their value. Pleasure had to be imbibed or inhaled. Emotional attachments were little more than well-rehearsed pantomimes. Play-acting with an unlimited budget and perfectly engineered specimens to act out her desires had its appeal, sure, but no virtual display of affection could color in the void at the center of it all.
Not that thousands hadn’t tried, hadn’t pledged themselves to her in self-abasement. It was all so boring.
And now there was this box. Dark, without detail, lacking any apparent grooves or means to open it.
She was annoyed. She felt herself flush.
She tapped twice on the glass desktop and a single chime sounded.
“Director Caraggia,” she said.
A rough voice responded.
“Madame President.”
“Shall I assume there are more instructions to follow?”
A pause.
“No, ma’am.”
She detected a crinkle in his voice. Was he smiling? She flushed again.
“Send someone to open it for me,” she said.
“Yes ma’am. I’m prepared to take on the responsibility myself.”
“Sure, okay. Just come now.”
“Approaching the lift now, ma’am.”
Scientists. Now she would know if he’d been worth the cost of his recruitment.
She caught herself staring again at the cube, willing it to open and reveal its purpose. She moved haltingly around the desk and approached one of the penthouse’s transparent walls. She gazed down on the city’s more prosperous sections, the old financial sector and the marina where the river parted. It was a scene she took in nearly every day. But it was new. In the pre-dusk light it all took on an enhanced, urgent quality. Had she really never noticed the small mountain at the river’s mouth before?
She inhaled and made a conscious effort to regulate her breath. An urge to sob and laugh all at once balled up in her chest.
The door chimed. She waved a hand in the air and it slid aside.
A man she recognized but did not yet know stepped into the light. He was older, lean, jagged, and a bit burnt.
She looked away and at the cube again, embarrassed. A bubble rose in her.
Here was Caraggia.
*
ANONYMOUS JUDGE FEEDBACK
Judge 1
Liked: This is a really interesting take on the future. In an era where every influencer is telling us how to "eliminate cortisol" and big emotions are condemned as toxic, extending the outcome to this hell of indifference is an excellent psychological experiment. I also enjoy the colonization/totalitarian state metaphor as well. This story is scifi in the best way: it makes us question the direction our society is going.
I loved this line: "Just ask the insurrectionists, burning in their millions, if she was concerned about potential threats."
What I feel could use some work: I've been called dense before, so pay this no mind if I'm the only one who says it, but I have to confess I'm not 100% sure what happens in the end. Is it the case that the box does nothing, and it's simply the removal of the inhibitors Caraggia intends. We don't see what his assignment was int he frist place, which makes things even murkier. The last line/title doesn't carry the punch it should because Caraggia isn't really the center of this story. A version of it from his POV could be interesting, but I really like what you've got going here, so maybe revisit the last line.
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Judge 2
Liked: Your strikingly inventive opening line served as a good hook, making me want to read on. . Your sentence structure was varied and effective. Your pacing was good, the intrigue over the mysterious black box keeping me engaged throughout; the intrigue increased by the claim that the box had been created 100% under budget. Your skill for evocative descriptive detail was evident from the outset, with phrases such as how the cube, ‘an inky smudge’ seemed to ‘vibrate in its stillness’, and you convincingly portrayed the thoughts of the protagonist.
What I feel could use some work: The ending felt like the final line of a chapter in a novel, and to me, did not suit a stand-alone short story. This lack of resolution may leave readers feeling dissatisfied.
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Judge 3
Liked: You did a great job incorporating the mystery box prompt into the story as a main element of it. In fact, the whole story had me intrigued. I could feel and share the main character's deep curiosity from the very beginning.
I also liked the futuristic, apathetic setting you created for the character; it's very sci-fiesque.
What I feel could use some work: I feel like the ending went straight over my head, like there was no point to the story's ending. I feel like I'm missing something that prevents me from enjoying the story. Is it an obscure reference to someone? If so, you might want to provide more context for the reader.
Also, what was the motive for her having the mysterious box built in the first place? What, exactly, were her directions for Caraggia? What did she ask for that he came up with that item?
Also, what is she president of?
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