Writing Prompt: Hello! I'm Captain Jiggles

From Writer's Digest, this week's prompt presents this bizarre scenario:

Unforeseen medical expenses arise, and you enter a bank to take out a loan. A bank teller explains that she has a “special new trainee” today who will help you in just a moment. Then a man in a full clown costume (wig, facepaint, oversized pants — the works) comes out and says, “Hello! I’m Captain Jiggles, the new loan officer, and I would be happy to help you now.” Write this scene.

I decided to write out this scene using a character from my detective novel, a rather cynical fellow named Marco Salinger.  I probably could have done plenty more with this scene, but I felt it was amusing as-is.
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Get a load of this guy.  He says his name is Captain Jiggles, and that in itself should be enough of a hint to tell you of what kind of joker he is.  He comes out wearing a pair of gaudy red and yellow balloon pants, a fluffy white shirt with pink and purple polka dots, and he’s got red gloves on his hands.  His whole face is smeared in pure white make-up, he’s got a gigantic red ball on his nose, and his hair is a mess of red curls.  The real kicker about all this is that I’m not here to be amused – this f%cker is supposed to be my loan officer.

I look at the bank teller as if she just puked up a whole lobster out of her mouth.  She just stares back at me blankly, wondering what my problem is.  I look around and wonder what everyone’s problem is.  Surely, I can’t be the only sucker in this joint that finds this strange and stupid.  I can’t tell if the other people in the bank are oblivious to the presence of this wacky clown, or if they’re just pretending not to notice.

Captain Jiggles meets my gaze and says, “Is there a problem, Mr. Salinger?”

I act as cool as I can, given the circumstances, and reply, “No problem at all.  Let’s get this over with.”

F#ck it.  Getting the loan is the most important thing right now – who the hell cares if it’s Ronald McDonald filling out the paperwork? I’m just glad it’s Captain Jiggles and not a juggalo – I always heard those guys are freaks.

I follow Mister Jiggles to his office (I seriously don’t know if I have to address him as “Captain” all the time or if Jiggles is his literal surname).  I half expect the door to open up to a zany funhouse full of bent mirrors and colored doors and other crap.  I’m floored when I see nothing but a clean office with a single desk, computer, and the cushiest chairs imaginable.

Jiggles offers me a seat, before sitting behind the desk and starting to type away at the computer.  He asks, “Would you like anything to drink?”

Whisky would have made my day, if it’d help me get over how goofy Mr. Jiggles looks.  I figure that booze is scarce in the bank, and asking for it might get me kicked out.  I just say “sure” and let him get me something.  From a fridge behind the desk, he pulls out a bottle of red soda – Faygo.  Ah sh*t, maybe he is a juggalo after all.

He pours some of the pop into a plastic cup that he pulls out from a drawer.  I half expect him to stick a silly straw in it too.  When he plants a plain, straight, transparent straw into it, I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.

For the next hour or so, he takes down all my personal information and gets the ball rolling.  It takes just moments to check my credit score – not too good ever since last year – and then he goes into a big spiel about locking in percentages.  The whole time he talks, it sounds as professional and smart as talking to any other banking professional.  I like the fact that this clown isn’t bullsh&tting me, he gives me the numbers and prospects straight-up.  At the same time, I can’t help but to gawk at the man’s gigantic red snoz.  Seriously, what the hell is this? Why is this guy dressed this way? Why is the bank allowing this kind of dress code? How can they expect me to take this sh$t seriously?

When business gets wrapped up, I can’t complain – I get a legitimate loan at a damn good rate.  But I also expect something to come out of the blue at me.  Maybe Mr. Jiggles will shake my hand and I wind up getting zapped by one of those stupid buzzer toys.  Or maybe he’ll squirt my face with water from those stupid little flowers.  I spend the most mental energy entertaining the thought that a cake will roll in and a dame dressed like Harley Quinn will pop out of it.

Nothing happens though – Jiggles leads me to the door with a friendly smile, as if everything’s cool.  Once again, I don’t know if I’m disappointed or not.  As I exit the door with documents in hand, I turn and ask him, “May I ask you something?”

“Certainly, what is it?” he beams.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask:  what is it with this get-up?”

“What do you mean?” He frowns as if I just spat on his Armani suit.

“Well, sir, it’s not every day I see a guy dressed in something as…colorful as this.”

“I know, isn’t it great?”

“I have to ask though…do you come to work like this all the time, or do you have a second job entertaining kids or something?”

“No, this is my normal suit.” Jiggles pulls on the shirt proudly and beams.

What a joker.  I decide just to drop it – stranger sh&t has happened for me to worry about what one clown is doing working at a bank.  At least this’ll give me something interesting to tell the nurses when I’m getting my lung cancer treatment.  Hell, I start to wonder what’ll happen when the procedure’s underway, and I start to think that having all the doctors and nurses dressed as clowns might make it bearable.  Something about it takes the edge off – I realize I spent so much time among stiff, boring people that seeing a clown in the mix feels crazier than it actually is.  What if everything was backwards – if everybody else was a clown and I was some schmuck in a plain black suit acting all serious?

The change in perspective turns out to be what I need.  God knows if I’ll actually survive the treatments, but thinking about the clowns of the world keeps my mind off of how dire it all is.  Next time I see the doctor and he tells me all the potential risks of surgery, I feel like I can look him in the eye and say, “Why so serious, doc?”

Film Review: You Only Live Twice (007)

After so many plots unraveled across four classic films, James Bond would finally reach the top and confront the head man of SPECTRE, in You Only Live Twice.

This time, Bond's mission takes him to Japan. It starts off hard and fast, as he fakes his death, and then struggles to escape death in a constant string of confrontations and encounters on foreign soil. When Bond has to infiltrate a secret volcanic lair, he resorts to the ultimate cover: marrying a Japanese girl, while learning ninjutsu and getting facial surgery. It all adds up to a big, explosive battle in the middle of the volcano. As always, there's gadgets (the biggest thing being a small DIY helicopter with loads of weapons) there's ladies, and there's danger galore.

The story follows the original novel just a little bit, but the book will always have the edge because it has one important dramatic angle that the movie misses out on: the theme of revenge. The book was a pretty intense struggle, because it follows immediately after On Her Majesty's Secret Service. If you know what happens in that story, then you know how driven Bond becomes to finding Blofeld and making him pay. Also, Bond actually became a ninja and infiltrated a castle to get his vengeance - how cool is that?

The movie misses out on many of these opportunities, and instead keeps the tone light and fluffy. It takes some pretty ridiculous turns, including a useless subplot involving a rocket that steals other rockets in space. The only thing that makes this feel special is that he fakes death and assume a disguise, but it never reaches a level of significance that affects the plot much. For Bond, it's just business as usual.

This film is made with decent photography. One thing I think it weird though is that most shots, especially during the fight scenes, are taken from really really far away. Editing is okay. Acting is fine for what it is: Sean Connery seems to give a more tongue-in-cheek portrayal of Bond, but his presence is still welcome. Donald Pleasence plays the villain pretty dryly, but his mere presence and look is iconic. I have no complaints with Akiko Wakabayashi's, Mie Hama's, or Tetsuro Tamba's performances. Writing is okay, but most of the jokes fall horribly flat. This production has good-looking locales. Some of the props, costumes, and special effects appear cheap. I was never a fan of Nancy Sinatra's theme song, but the music score is alright.

You Only Live Twice is enjoyable, but also lightweight, silly, and rather shallow. The book is quite a bit better, but even by the standards of the film series, there are better Bond adventures.

3/5 (Experience: Pretty Good | Story: Average | Film: Average)

Film Review: On Her Majesty's Secret Service (007)

Of all the classic Bond films, this one represents the most drastic deviation. It's a darker, more serious adventure that takes the character to more profound levels of peril and tragedy.

Right from the start, the film differentiates itself with its dreary imagery and a hard-hitting fight scene on a beach. Then there's a long, winding series of fights, deception, and intrigue. A good chunk of the film is devoted to a lengthy chase across Switzerland, which includes a ton of skiing, a huge avalanche, and a car chase. It eventually builds up to an all-out battle in the mountains. Then there's the ending, which is the one thing that pushes this whole film above and beyond the normal levels of a Bond adventure. It is a dramatic and profound turn for the character, and it has to be seen to be understood.

The story's generally more of the same: Bond has a mission to find a bad guy, reveal the evil plot, then take him out. He spends most of the time undercover, so the thrills and intrigue are much more grounded. The actual plot that's revealed is as outlandish and weird as they come. What matters the most are the characters: Bond is still the man, but the love interest provides a touching flourish that gives the story more weight.

Most of this film features good photography, but some shots are a bit hectic. Editing is very punchy, to the point where shots become compressed to mere seconds, and it almost appears agitating (though not nearly as bad as most modern movies, like the Bourne series, or Quantum of Solace). For a film from the 60s, it's pretty wild. Acting is quite the mixed bag. I was never a fan of George Lazenby, but the more I watch the film, the more forgiving I am of him - he embodies the voice and swagger of the character well enough. I'm still not a fan of Telly Savalas, whose portrayal of Blofeld feels very odd and foreign to me. I do love Diana Rigg in this film. Writing is okay. This production has good-looking locales. Some of the sets, props, and costumes are a bit gaudy and weird, and most special effects look kinda bad. John Barry's music score is superb - his main theme is so dramatic, it's chilling. Unfortunately, I am not a fan of Louis Armstrong's love theme.

Even though there are odd things to hate about OHMSS, it is a bold film that offers an intriguing direction for Bond, and offers a little more substance to its story that gives the ending a proper punch. For that alone, all Bond fans need to see the film at least once.

4/5 (Experience: Pretty Good | Story: Good | Film: Pretty Good)

Film Review: Thunderball (007)

After seeing James Bond in action in three big, iconic missions, Thunderball blasts to the scene with the promise of more action, more gadgets, more ladies, bigger stakes, more exotic locations, and so much more!

At this point, the Bond formula had been established firmly enough so that Thunderball only has to follow a template full of established tropes and cliches. Many folks will say that it makes this one of the duller movies. I personally always thought it was a blast though. Among the highlights, this film follows Bond on a colorful journey to Nassau, where he has to constantly out-think and outwit the opposition. There's a lot of deceptive mindgames at work, followed by some chasing and some fighting, before a massive all-out battle underwater. It's a long film, but it is consistently thrilling and it has a satisfying payoff. Best of all, the film remains iconic thanks to the classic elements at play: Bond's classic charm, a classic villain we love to hate, and an overall sense of class.

The premise is pretty simple, generally not much different than a lot of modern action movies revolving around stolen nuclear weapons (like Broken Arrow, The Rock, Mission Impossible, you name it). It follows Ian Flemming's novel practically word for word (which is unsurprising, since it was based on a screenplay to begin with). What makes it so fun is that it's twisty and complex, but not impossible to follow. Each new scene offers something that's either thrilling or alluring. The characters are as endearing as ever.

Caught in epic widescreen photography, this film boasts plenty of bright and colorful scenery. Most of it looks great, especially with some steady and well-choreographed underwater photography. Some scenes, especially during the parade scene, are a bit rough around the edges. Editing can be nutty, as some dialogue has been cut, dubbed, and recut for various versions. Scenes usually transit well regardless. Acting is great: Sean Connery is still the man, and I always enjoyed the performances of Adolfo Celi, the lovely Claudine Auger, and the lovely Licuana Paluzzi. Writing is okay - the plot unravels well, and the dialogue is usually good, but some of the jokes can be a little goofy. This production uses great-looking locales, and lots of fine-looking sets, props, and costumes. John Barry's music score is as good as ever, and Tom Jones' theme song is hip.

To me, Thunderball is one of the most perfect Bond adventures. It has all the right signature elements we know and love, but with tons of thrills and action. It is a long adventure that might strain the patience of many viewers, but I think it's classy, sexy, exciting stuff.

4.5/5 (Experience: Perfect | Story: Good | Film: Very Good)

Film Review: Man from UNCLE

Even though this is a Cold War thriller, this is not a movie you'd want to see for action. Sure, there's a couple of big chase scenes and some shooting in the middle, but most of this film is all about the characters. On one side, you have the suave, skilled, confident American thief who struck a deal to work for the CIA. On the other side, you have the strong, blunt, rigid Russian superspy who suffers from some anger management issues. Put the two together on a mission, and the sheer chemistry really makes the sparks fly.

What the film lacks in actual action or setpieces, it makes up for tremendously in the characters. All of the film's fun is in watching the sharp banter between the two polar-opposite male leads. The dialogue alone is often witty, amusing, and shows great color and personality. Best of all, it's brought to life vividly by the actors, who offer top-notch performances. To say nothing of the female leads, who offer even more dynamism to the plot.

Fortunately, the plot is pretty interesting and solid too. The actual mission the characters go on carries over a lot of familiar tropes and elements you might see in other spy movies - dense conspiracies, elaborate games of deception, megalomaniacs, torture, etc. The characters are very well-developed and their volatile relationships keep the pace rolling for the whole runtime. Unfortunately, all the color seems to get sucked out in the last big chase, before the endgame rolls out. The last few scenes tie together some pieces of the plot that you'll never even notice throughout the picture, before its reaches a strangely short ending. It's more of a punchline than a climax.

One more thing that makes this movie shine will be its production and style. Filming looks fantastic, and it is edited in a fairly flashy way. There is a ton of really great, hip music throughout. If it was any flashier, it would feel like a Tarantino picture. Performances are awesome by the whole cast: Henry Cavill and Armie Hammer are both great in their roles, and they play off of each other very aptly. Alicia Vikander is just as fun to watch. Elizabeth Debicki is especially entrancing to watch - her performance is like the antithesis to Audrey Hepburn (same sense of fashion and everything), and it's all the more effective that way. This production uses very good, real-looking sets, props, and costumes.

I have no idea how good of an adaptation this movie is to the original TV show, but I love it for its style, its playful tone, and its characters. If that appeals to you, then the film is certainly recommended. If it's action you crave, better go watch Mission Impossible instead.

4/5 (Experience: Good | Story: Good | Film: Very Good)

Novel: Untitled Project Redraft

As part of re-evaluating the things I've written over the years, I decided to rewrite this story completely from scratch.  I originally entitled it Pada Jai, but I'd like to call it something else when it eventually reaches its finalized form.

Originally, this was conceived as Star Wars fan fiction - I was contemplating the moral roles of the films (the Jedi and the Sith) and wanted to present a middle ground or grey area in between the two.  I came up with Pada Jai as a fictitious faction that uses the Force with no concern over good or evil, and could possibly use evil powers for good or vice-versa.  The point was, I wanted a type of Force use that was unrestricted, so a person could perform even crazier stunts and powerful moves that others in the universe couldn't even dream of.

Eventually, this idea evolved into its own bizarre universe.  I took a sociology class a while back, for college credit.  Part of it talked about corporate accountability, and part of that lesson regarded pollution and the environment.  Somehow, it spurred me into taking the Pada Jai concept and centering it on a disgruntled company employee in some distant future.  Somehow, this all evolved into what it is now:  a dark, brutal tale of a man betrayed by his friend, who unleashed a parasite that attaches to the brain and grants superhuman strength and power, but at the cost of his consciousness.  Freed from the confines of being a Star Wars story, I found that I could accomplish much more and be more original.

In its original draft, I split this up into three stories, about 40,000 words each (which is agonizingly short, in retrospect).  I was generally copying the plot structures of popular movie trilogies at the time (Star Wars and The Matrix), so I ended each story with some kind of cliffhanger, until it all built up to an all-out battle.

I think I always knew that there was something wonky and flaky with these books, but now that I look back on them, I realize they're downright terrible.  The prose is weird and the dialogue is stupid.  There is action galore - in one scene I actually had a 1-vs-100 man fight and I counted all the deaths to make sure they added up - but none of these scenes are really that great, because there's no attachment to the characters during these parts.  Some of my creative decisions were dumb.  Worst of all, I tried so hard to make this crass and pulpy, I wound up expending tons of swearing, vulgarity, blood, gore, and sex, but with no real finesse.  It comes off as trashy and puerile.

Obviously, I still see value and potential to the story - otherwise, I wouldn't bother revisiting it.  Is is all intended to be a tale about the abuse of power, of vengeance, and the inner struggle between savagery and civility.  I have a cast of characters that could be filled with life, and a whole universe to play with that you've probably never seen before.

To illustrate how much things have changed, I thought I'd post the past and present iterations of the opening sections of this story.

The original draft from 2005 appears below.  It's a pretty weak opening that tells more than it shows, and feels way too detached to work. 

Old Draft:

Chapter One:  New Arrivals at the Corjo Labor Camp

            Life on planet Corjo was truly miserable.  It was a hot, humid jungle world teaming with alien life.  Two blazing suns beamed heat down on the green world, drenching the laboring prisoners in sweat.  Now and then, prisoners were known to die from the heat exhaustion.

The prisoners’ work added to the misery; they were forced to unearth the ruins of an ancient alien civilization.  The expedition was long and hard, and the Corjan city was immense.  The ruins sprawled out for twenty square miles, and after five decades of nonstop labor, only half of it was fully uncovered.

            Every month, the prisoners at the Corjo labor camp would gather around the shuttle landing pad and watch the shuttle land.  The long rectangular vessel came as scheduled to deliver supplies, and most importantly, more prisoners.

            Life on Corjo would change dramatically, for of the twelve prisoners on board, two of them caught the most attention.  As they came out, the watching prisoners mocked and harassed them.  One of the newcomers was a young lady named Ryla Corinthia.  She was twenty-five years old with soft turquoise eyes and sandy blonde hair.  She was slender and beautiful.  As she exited the idle shuttle, all of the male prisoners gawked at her - some of them with a look of hunger.  She avoided their eyes and shyly retreated behind the other newcomers.

            But someone else’s eyes remained fixed on hers.  Another new prisoner named Gerard stared at her and flicked his tongue obnoxiously.  He was a strong, burly, crude young man with curly black hair and wicked yellow eyes.

            Guards came off the shuttle, clad in body armor with reflective silver helmets.  They herded all of the new prisoners in an orderly line, facing the administrative building directly in front of the shuttle pad.

            The prison camp was surprisingly sparse for such a large-scale operation.  There were six flat concrete buildings surrounding the shuttle pad, which included a barracks, an armory, an administrative building, a warehouse, a motor pool, and a prisoner processing building.  All of these buildings were surrounded by a fence, separating the prisoners from their overseers.  Four towers stood guard along the fence line, with robotic turrets that scanned everything around them.

            On the other side of the fence were six cabins for the prisoners, and a mess hall.  There were two guard towers as well.  There was no fence to separate the prisoner’s yard from the jungle.  Only the concrete and the gravel on the ground marked the camp’s boundaries.

            An old man stepped out of the administrative building and approached the new prisoners.  He was fifty years old, but looked to be a hundred.  He had thin gray hair and dark indigo eyes.  His face was etched with deep, unnatural wrinkles.  Combined with his skeletal figure, he looked like a specter.

            He announced in a surprisingly boisterous voice, “Welcome to Corjo! I am warden Chen; I am in charge of everything here, so you must do everything I say.  If you fail to obey my orders or my rules, we will resort to deadly force.  Is that understood?”

            A few prisoners muttered an acknowledgement.

            “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer!” Chen roared. “Do you understand me?”

            Ten of the twelve prisoners shouted back, “Yes sir!”

            “Don’t call me sir! I’ve worked in this company for fifty years! I’ve earned my title as warden! You must answer as, ‘Yes warden Chen’!”

            “Yes warden Chen!” eleven of the twelve prisoners replied.  A stern-looking man didn’t bother saying anything.

            Chen gestured at the silent prisoner.  One of the guards brandished a rifle and aimed it at the prisoner.  It fired an invisible beam of sound waves at him; the inaudible beam penetrated his ears and made his head hurt immensely.  The prisoner crumpled to the ground, grasping his head in pain.

            The guard stopped the beam and allowed the prisoner to recuperate.

            “That’s more like it,” Chen said.  He paced in front of the prisoners and lectured, “We are here to dig the Corjan ruins; that is your only duty here for the rest of your lives.  I expect all of you to dig and dig to the best of your ability.  If I feel you’re not doing your jobs well, you will be punished!

            “Escape is generally impossible.  This shuttle pad is off limits, and anyone caught in this area will be shot.  The only other option is the jungle.  There is no fence to keep you from entering or exiting the jungle.  There is only an invisible perimeter line that gives off a chemical scent to keep predators away.  If you enter the jungle on your own, you won’t last long!

            “You will obey the guards at all times.  You will report to roll call every morning without exception.  Failure will result in punishment! Remember, too, that anyone caught in the restricted fenced areas will be shot!

            “Meals are served for thirty minutes twice a day.  An announcement will be made when it is time to eat.  If you miss it, you get nothing!

            “Now,” Chen concluded, “all prisoners will report to building five for processing.”

            The guards made all of the new prisoners march to the prisoner processing building.  Ryla was at the front of the line.  She obediently stepped into the building and found herself facing a guard seated behind a desk.

            The guard ordered, “Please empty your pockets and remove all your belongings and place them on the desk.”

            Ryla handed over everything from her pockets:  some money, some bland chewing gum, and several ID cards.  The guard curiously glanced at the cards, noting that she was a former Maetherion employee.  The words, “Career Terminated” were stamped in red over them all.

            The guard apathetically discarded all of the belongings and said, “You will now be scanned for any foreign objects.”

            He pushed a button on his desk, and a large ring-shaped device descended from the ceiling.  It passed over Ryla, and a hazy blue field crackled electrically inside the ring.  As it descended, the blur field passed through her and made her skin tickle; she shifted uncomfortably.

            On the guard’s computer terminal, a complete molecular rendering of Ryla’s body appeared.  It showed everything from her clothes to her bone marrow.  The guard immediately spotted a foreign object on her neck.

            The guard demanded, “You must give us your necklace, too.”

            Ryla stammered, “But I can’t! My father gave it to me.”

            “Sorry lady,” the guard insisted. “But your citizenship with the Maetherion Corporation has been terminated.  You do not have the right to own any personal property here on Corjo.”

            “But I can’t give this up!” Ryla insisted. “It’s the only thing I have to remember him by!”

            The desk guard ordered, “Someone get it for her.”

            Another guard roughly grabbed Ryla’s necklace and ripped it off her neck.  He slapped it on the desk.  It was a crystalline cross inset in a golden star.  Ryla looked upon it with her eyes watering, and she put her hand where it used to lay on her chest.

            “Very good,” the desk guard said. “Next!”

            Ryla was taken to another room, which looked like a large showering room.  The escorting guard ordered, “Now, take off all your clothes so you can be cleansed.”

            “What?” Ryla snapped. “No!”

            “Take off your clothes so we can wash you,” the guard repeated.

            “No, not in front of you,” Ryla insisted. “Can’t I do this in private?”

            “You’re not entitled to privacy here.  Take off your clothes now.  Failure to comply will result in punishment.”

            “Punish me then!” Ryla bellowed. “I don’t deserve this kind of treatment!”

            Taking out his baton, the guard swung it hard against her stomach.  The blow knocked the wind out of her and made her bend over.  Whacking her on the back of the neck, he sent her sprawling to the floor.  He then kicked her in the stomach.  The pain in her neck and abdomen made her cry openly.

            “No more trouble, lady,” the guard warned. “You’re not a Maetherion employee anymore; you’re nothing! Do you get it now? You have no rights here; you have nothing here! So take off your f&cking clothes, unless you want some more!”

            Ryla rose to her feet with tears still dripping down her cheeks.  Obediently, she stripped off all her clothes and stood at the far end of the room.  Her hands covered her exposed skin abashedly.

            From the wall, the guard took a hose and sprayed a cold blast of water on her.  She gasped at the sudden gust of coldness on her skin.  She stood idly for a minute as the guard hosed her down.

            The guard turned off the hose and ordered, “Go to the next room and get an inoculation.”

            Ryla obediently dashed to the next room, still naked and dripping with cold water.  In the next room, a guard plunged a needle into her shoulder.  He explained that the shot would protect her from all known diseases on the planet.

            She then moved onto the next room, and was given a set of gray nondescript clothes.  Bunk ten - bed number five - was assigned to her.  Even though she was still yet from the hose, she donned her new clothes and stepped onto the prisoner’s yard.

            As soon as she exited the building, the crowd of prisoners stood around her and gawked.  She felt horribly uncomfortable, especially after her humiliating processing.  It occurred to her that she may be the only woman in the whole camp; everybody would be eager to take advantage of her.  She silently walked towards her assigned bunk and sat in her bed.  There, she cried all evening.

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For the new draft, I rewrote the whole scene anew and changed a lot of things creatively (guards are now robots, Chen is not as much of a weak old man, and chapter headings will be weird made-up compound words).  I personally feel better about it, but there is still room for improvement (hook is still weak, still to much telling, not enough characterization yet).

New Draft:

1 - Postarbitration

            Over planet Corjo, a freighter flew into orbit.  From one of its hangar bays, a shuttle glided towards the green and blue world, descending into its atmosphere with a new shipment of fresh supplies, and fresh prisoners.

            Penetrating the planet’s atmosphere, the shuttle soared over miles of lush, green canopies and foliage.  It produced sonic booms in its wake, which shook the trees beneath it.  Several minutes later, the shuttle braked, and descended onto a man-made settlement in the middle of the jungle.

            As it landed, prisoners from the Corjo labor camp stood behind the iron fence, watching the ship curiously.  Their dirty faces showed mixed expressions of indifference and misery.               
            Nevertheless, the monthly shipment was the highlight of their day, before they’d be forced to return to hard labor.  Watching the shuttle gave them a welcome respite from their work; they got the chance to watch new supplies being offloaded, and they got to size up the new batch of prisoners.

            The shuttle settled gently on the concrete landing pad.  Its ramp came down; several robot guards pushed the new prisoners out of the hold and onto the tarmac.  The new prisoners were dressed in fresh sets of uniforms:  most wore all-white, representing the minor crimes they committed against the Maetherion Corporation.  A few were dressed in red, identifying them as the most dangerous of felons:  the murderers and defilers, who would spend the rest of their days at the labor camp until their bodies couldn’t take any more.

            Among those dressed in white, there was a woman.  She was skinny, with a smooth, clean face.  Her eyes were turquoise; her eyebrows were short and slanted.  Her golden hair was long, fine, and clean; it glistened in the light of the planet’s two suns.  As she stepped onto the concrete uncertainly, she could feel the eyes of all the prisoners on her.  Their expressions changed to vicious, feral hunger; it had been years since any of them had laid eyes on a woman.

            The robot guards grouped the new prisoners to the edge of the landing pad, and forced them into a straight line.  One of the prisoners in red refused to move in line; a robot guard walked up to the burly man and ordered in a deep, mechanical voice, “You will fall in line.”

            “F&ck you, I never asked for this sh#t,” the prisoner pouted.

            The robot moved against the prisoner.  He shoved against the machine and banged his fist on the metal plating on its head.  Grabbing his arm, the robot twisted it hard, until it cracked loudly.  The prisoner grimaced, and a moan escaped his lips.  Kicking him in the shins, the robot moved the prisoner into line; he stood with the others, feebly holding his broken arm. 

            One of the other prisoners slapped him on the back of the head and cried, “What are you, stupid?”

            “Shut up,” one of the robots retorted, nudging the talking prisoner with its metal arm.

            While the prisoners stood, more robots gathered around the shuttle to offload crates of food, clothes, tools, parts, weapons, and fuel.  Moments later, a gate opened in the fence, and an old man with olive-colored skin, thin gray hair, and a weathered face marched in front of the prisoners.

            Regarding the prisoners with a scowl, the man announced, “I am Warden Chen.  This is planet Corjo – the ugliest, slimiest, sh%ttiest outback world you can imagine.  This is my world, so all your lives belong to me.  When I say anything, you will listen, and obey.  And believe me, you will obey.  If you think working at the excavation is suffering, you haven’t even scratched the surface of suffering.  All of you are here, so you can know the full meaning of the words ‘pain,’ and ‘suffering’.              Those of you in white, you might achieve repentance for your crimes if you work hard and stay clean.  Those of you in red:  you’re here to die little by little each day, until your bodies can’t handle it anymore.  All I can say for you is, tough sh$t.

            “Every day, you’ll be working on uncovering the ancient Corjan ruins.  You will work hard, until you sweat, hurt, and bleed.  I don’t care who you are or what your sob story is; everybody works, and everybody suffers.  Any insolence and any deficiency will be dealt with as I see fit.

            “Our facility has no fence line.  You’re free to leave the compound all you want.  I won’t give a sh*t, because this jungle will eat you alive.  The only thing protecting you from the plants and animals out there is an invisible perimeter line that gives off pheromones and scents to keep the wildlife out.  You can escape if you want to, but believe me, you won’t want to.  Don’t even think about trying to go off-world, because it’s impossible.  This shuttle you came from is the only traffic this world ever gets, and my guards will f@ck you up if you try anything.

            “Meals are served twice a day, no more than thirty minutes at a time.  If you miss out, then that’s just tough sh#t.  Do you all understand me?”

            The new prisoners mumbled acknowledgements.

            “What was that? I can’t hear any of you pathetic slugs! When I ask you if you understand me, I want to hear you all say ‘yes Warden Chen,’ loud and proud.  Do you understand me?”

            The prisoners said loudly, “Yes Warden Chen.”

            “What? That’s still not nearly loud enough! Do you sh%theads understand me?”

            “Yes Warden Chen!” the prisoners clamored.

            “That’s more like it,” Chen said. “All of you, report to Building 5 for processing.”

            One prisoner shouted in a mocking tone, “Oh yes sir Mr. Warden Chen! Right away Warden Chen! Anything you say Warden Chen!”

            Walking up to the insolent prisoner, Chen sharply regarded him with his indigo eyes and challenged, “You making fun of me?”

            “No sir, Warden Chen!” the prisoner screamed, his lips curled into a mocking smile.

            Smacking him in the face, Chen yelled, “I don’t take this crap from anyone! Shut the f*ck up and get to Building 5, before I wipe that smile off your face with my gun!”

            “This is bullsh@t!” the prisoner ranted. “You’re just an old man on a power trip! You can’t do anything to me; I’m a Maetherion citizen!”

            Drawing his sidearm, Chen pressed the barrel of his nuclear-powered pistol against the prisoner’s lips, and said, “You are one dumb sh#thead.  The minute you’re sentenced here, your citizenship is revoked.  You’re my citizen now.  And you know what? I think you’re too stupid to stay a citizen of my camp.  What good are you if you keep shooting your mouth off at me? I think I’ll end both our miseries and shoot your mouth off!”

             Before the prisoner could do anything, Chen squeezed the trigger.  A hot yellow beam exploded from the pistol, and made the man’s head explode.  The prisoners recoiled in terror as blood and broken flesh flew out and splattered on the concrete.

            The warden turned around and left the landing platform without a word.  The robot guards hustled the prisoners to Building 5, where they formed a line and passed through an X-Ray arch.  One by one, each prisoner stepped through the arch, and was cleared by the guards.  One prisoner had to be diverted from the line for a body cavity search.

            Next, each prisoner was scrutinized by a robot with a large red eye.  The machine scanned each prisoner’s face and eyes, matching them up to Maetherion’s criminal database.  Once each prisoner was verified, the machine stamped the prisoners’ arms with a barcode and their name in red letters.

            The woman in the group passed through the X-Ray machine without trouble, and stood before the big robot.  She pleaded with the machine, “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.  There has to be some mistake.”

            Scanning her, the robot replied flatly, “Records match.  There is no mistake.  If your record remains clean, you’re eligible for parole in five years.”

            “Five years?” the woman’s voice choked. “No.  It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  I should be on Mitheria Sigma at the worst.  This is–”

            “This is your assigned prison sentence.  There is no mistake.”

            Before the woman could argue any more, the robot stamped her arm.  The hot ink seeped into her skin with stinging pain.  She looked at the barcode in disbelief, and rubbed it with her fingers.  The ink had already fused with her skin, permanently tethering her to the Corjo labor camp.  Her name – Ryla Corinthia – looked like it was branded in blood.

            The robot extended another arm, which grabbed Ryla’s arm and pressed a circular band of blue ink on the back of her hand.  The new markings provided her bunk assignment:  Building 12, Bunk 35.

            In a daze of fear and shock, Ryla was pushed down the line by the guards.  She passed beneath arches that sprayed vaccines and immunities at her.  The clouds of mist seeped into her pores and flew through her nostrils, smelling acrid.

            When she left the building, Ryla stepped into an empty dirt lot.  Several bunk buildings faced the lot; the administrative and supply buildings were built behind a walled-off section, with robotic turrets scanning the camp constantly.

            As Ryla stepped across the lot, she felt the eyes of the other prisoners on her.  There were over a hundred men in the camp, most of whom coveted her and her flesh.  A shiver ran down her body, and goosebumps formed on her arms, when she thought about the combined impulses of so many male prisoners.  She felt sick to her stomach, knowing that she wouldn’t last long in the camp.

            She found her bunk in Building 12.  She discovered that the whole building was designated for all female prisoners, and it could only be opened with the marking on her hand.  Knowing that she was segregated from the male prisoners, she no longer worried about being assaulted in the middle of the night.  When she found her assigned bunk, she realized that the place was too clean; she was the only female prisoner in the whole camp.  She wondered if the camp ever had any other female prisoners, and if so, what happened to them.

            Lying on the bunk, Ryla felt overwhelming dread and confusion.  She didn’t understand why she was on Corjo; her crimes were minor, and she expected to be taken to a standard prison.  She didn’t even know where in the galaxy she was, but it was clear to her that she was thousands of light years away from any form of civilization.  When she recalled her sentencing, she realized that her incarceration on Corjo was no accident; somebody purposefully arranged for her to be there.  She was accused of spying on executives; now, they made sure that she’d never reveal the few secrets she learned.

            She didn’t even know or care about those secrets.  She came across the information by accident, and didn’t give any of it a second thought.  When the Maetherion guards came for her, she was shocked and confused during the entire hearing.  Her defense was silenced quickly, and she never even had the chance to arrange for legal counsel.  The judges produced evidence as if from thin air, and in the next few hours, she was sent to the shuttle.

            On Corjo, the weight of her incarceration finally sunk in, and she realized that her life was as good as over.  Even if the other prisoners weren’t a threat, she couldn’t last long working on hard labor.  She spent her whole career as an administrative servant, specializing in accounting, bureaucracy, organizing summits, and arranging presentations.  She feared that hard labor would break her.

            Once she realized that the life she was accustomed to was gone, Ryla couldn’t stop the tears from dripping down her face, and the sobs from escaping her lips.  She cried until the planets’ suns set, and the cabin was all dark.

--------------------

Upon recent reflection, I decided to tweak this opening chapter even more, to immediately immerse the reader into Ryla's perspective and reveal information in a different way.  I addressed one or two logical issues (Ryla is branded upon sentencing, not when she gets to Corjo), and there are still a couple of things I should address (I forgot to mention Ryla's parole options).  Still, this is probably the direction I'll be heading for this story from here on out.

Newest Draft

1 - Postarbitration

            In the cell, Ryla Corinthia knew she was safe.  Even though the cot was hard and the small toilet offered no privacy, she found comfort in the gentle vibrations reverberating through the shuttle’s hull, and the faint hum of the engines.  She forced herself to lay on the cot and enjoy what few comforts she could, because once the shuttle lands, she would be on planet Corjo, to work the next five years of her life in the labor camp.  Chances are that she'll be there for longer.
            Ryla spent hours turning on the cot, trying to find a comfortable position.  While she was on her side, her turquoise eyes settled on her forearm.  Her name was branded there in red ink, with numbers associating her with her criminal record and sentence.  It looked like a tattoo made of blood.  She still felt a residual stinging on the flesh, from the sentencing process.  When the robot sounded out her file, she gawked at the machine and trembled.  In a broken voice, she told it, “There has to be some mistake.  I should be on Mitheria Sigma at the worst.  But…Corjo?”
            “There is no mistake,” the robot declared, before guards carried her to the cell.  The unfeeling voice continued to haunt Ryla.  Her crimes were minor, and she expected to be taken to a standard prison.  When she recalled her sentencing, she realized that her incarceration on Corjo was no accident.  Somebody purposefully arranged for her to be there.  She was accused of spying on executives.  Now, they made sure that she’d never reveal the few secrets she learned.
            She didn’t even know or care about those secrets.  She came across the information by accident, and didn’t give any of it a second thought.  When the Maetherion guards came for her, she was shocked and confused during the entire hearing.  Her defense was silenced quickly, and she never even had the chance to arrange for legal counsel.  The judges produced evidence as if from thin air, and in the next few hours, she was sent to the shuttle.
            While en route, the weight of her sentence finally sunk in, and she realized that her life was as good as over.  She couldn’t last long working on hard labor, and the other prisoners would show her no mercy.  Even if Corjo wouldn’t kill her, it would break her.
            After countless hours alone in the steel cell, Ryla felt the ship lurch.  She jerked awake, when she realized that they were passing through Corjo’s atmosphere and landing.  Through the bars, she saw robots rolling out of their niches and unfolding into man-sized forms.  They stood guard along the walls, as all of the cell doors in the ship opened.
            Prisoners walked out of their cells and down the main corridor.  Ryla stood at the threshold of her cell, but stopped short when she saw the others staring at her.  Their expressions betrayed their primal urges, as if their sullen eyes could speak and tell her that they all wanted to violate her.
As Ryla stood and trembled, the robot guards took notice.  One of them nudged her into the group of prisoners.  She kept her head down, focusing on her shuffling feet to avoid everybody’s wicked stares.
            Ahead, the shuttle’s ramp led down to a concrete landing pad.  As she continued towards it, she felt somebody’s hand on her shoulder.  A shiver crawled down her spine, and the rest of her body became taut.  She felt somebody’s hot breath against her cheek, and a voice whispered into her ear, “Tonight…your a$$ is mine, b*tch.”
            Ryla wanted to break away and start running, but her legs refused to move.  Before anything else could happen, a guard walked up to the man behind her.  It said, “No talking.  Keep moving.”
            When the machine nudged the prisoner, he shoved back and shouted, “Hey, f#ck you!”
            In the next instant, the robot slammed its fist into the man’s face.  His head snapped to the side with a loud crack.  Blood and spit flew from his lips, before he tumbled to the ground, moaning.  The other prisoners kept walking, keeping their attention focused away from the trouble.
            When Ryla stepped down the ramp, a blast of hot, humid air washed over her.  The light from Corjo’s twin yellow suns was nearly blinding, compared to the dim shuttle.  When Ryla’s eyes adjusted, she saw an iron fence surrounding the landing pad.  The dirty faces of dozens of prisoners gawked at the new prisoners, showing mixed expressions of misery and indifference.  Many of their gazes settled on Ryla, who stood out with her glistening blonde hair.  Their expressions showed vicious, feral hunger – it had been years since any of them had laid eyes on a woman.
            Regarding the prisoners, Ryla realized that most of them wore red uniforms.  They were sentenced to Corjo for any number of heinous crimes.  In her clean white uniform, which signified minor crimes, Ryla felt even more out of place.
            The robot guards grouped the new prisoners to the edge of the landing pad, and forced them into a straight line.  More guards offloaded crates of food, clothes, tools, parts, weapons, and fuel from the ship’s hold.  Moments later, a gate opened in the fence, and an old man with olive-colored skin, thin gray hair, and a weathered face marched in front of the prisoners.
            Regarding the prisoners with a scowl, the man announced, “I am Warden Chen.  This is planet Corjo – the ugliest, slimiest, sh*ttiest outback world you can imagine.  This is my world, so all your lives belong to me.  When I say anything, you will listen, and obey.  And believe me, you will obey.  If you think working at the excavation is suffering, you haven’t even scratched the surface of suffering.  All of you are here, so you can know the full meaning of the words ‘pain,’ and ‘suffering’.  Those of you in white, you might achieve repentance for your crimes if you work hard and stay clean.  Those of you in red:  you’re here to die little by little each day, until your bodies can’t handle it anymore.  All I can say for you is, tough sh%t.
            “Every day, you’ll be working on uncovering the ancient Corjan ruins.  You will work hard, until you sweat, hurt, and bleed.  I don’t care who you are or what your sob story is; everybody works, and everybody suffers.  Any insolence and any deficiency will be dealt with as I see fit.
            “Our facility has no fence line.  You’re free to leave the compound all you want.  I won’t give a sh#t, because the jungle will eat you alive.  The only thing protecting you from the plants and animals out there is an invisible perimeter line that gives off pheromones and scents to keep the wildlife out.  You can escape if you want to, but believe me, you won’t want to.  Don’t even think about trying to go off-world, because it’s impossible.  This shuttle you came from is the only traffic this world ever gets, and my guards will f&ck you up if you try anything.
            “Meals are served twice a day, no more than thirty minutes at a time.  If you miss out, then that’s just tough sh#t.  Do you all understand me?”
            The new prisoners mumbled acknowledgements.
            “What was that? I can’t hear any of you pathetic slugs! When I ask you if you understand me, I want to hear you all say ‘yes Warden Chen,’ loud and proud.  Do you understand me?”
            The prisoners said loudly, “Yes Warden Chen.”
            “What? That’s still not nearly loud enough! Do you shitheads understand me?”
            “Yes Warden Chen!” the prisoners clamored.
            “That’s more like it,” Chen said. “All of you, report to Building 5 for processing.”
            One prisoner shouted in a mocking tone, “Oh yes sir Mr. Warden Chen! Right away Warden Chen! Anything you say Warden Chen!”
            Walking up to the insolent prisoner, Chen sharply regarded him with his indigo eyes and challenged, “You making fun of me?”
            “No sir, Warden Chen!” the prisoner screamed, his lips curled into a mocking smile.
            Smacking him in the face, Chen yelled, “I don’t take this crap from anyone! Shut the f*ck up and get to Building 5, before I wipe that smile off your face with my gun!”
            “This is bullsh&t!” the prisoner ranted. “You’re just an old man on a power trip! You can’t do anything to me; I’m a Maetherion citizen!”
            Drawing his sidearm, Chen pressed the barrel of his nuclear-powered pistol against the prisoner’s lips, and said, “You are one dumb sh*thead.  The minute you’re sentenced here, your citizenship is revoked.  You’re my citizen now.  And you know what? I think you’re too stupid to stay a citizen of my camp.  What good are you if you keep shooting your mouth off at me? I think I’ll end both our miseries and shoot your mouth off!”
             Before the prisoner could do anything, Chen squeezed the trigger.  A hot yellow beam exploded from the pistol, and made the man’s head explode.  The prisoners recoiled in terror as blood and broken flesh flew out and splattered on the concrete.  With wide, teary eyes, Ryla watched the scene and couldn't stop trembling.
            The warden turned around and left the landing platform without a word.  The robot guards hustled the prisoners to Building 5, where they formed a line and passed through an X-Ray arch.  One by one, each prisoner stepped through the arch, and was cleared by the guards.
            Afterwards, each prisoner’s arms were scanned.  When Ryla’s brand was processed, a mechanical arm extended down.  It grabbed her arm and pressed a circular band of blue ink on the back of her hand.  The new markings provided her bunk assignment:  Building 12, Bunk 35.
            Ryla was pushed down the line by the guards.  She passed beneath arches that sprayed vaccines and immunities at her.  The clouds of mist seeped into her pores and flew through her nostrils, smelling acrid.
            When she left the building, Ryla stepped into an empty dirt lot.  Several bunk buildings faced the lot; the administrative and supply buildings were built behind a walled-off section, with robotic turrets scanning the camp constantly.
            As Ryla stepped across the lot, she felt the eyes of the other prisoners on her.  There were over a hundred men in the camp, most of whom coveted her and her flesh.  She felt sick to her stomach, knowing that she wouldn’t last long in the camp.
            She found her bunk in Building 12.  She discovered that the whole building was designated for all female prisoners, and it could only be opened with the marking on her hand.  Knowing that she was segregated from the male prisoners, she no longer worried about being assaulted in the middle of the night.  When she found her assigned bunk, she realized that the place was too clean; she was the only female prisoner in the whole camp.  She wondered if the camp ever had any other female prisoners.  If so, what happened to them?
            Ryla couldn’t stop the tears from dripping down her face, and the sobs from escaping her lips.  She finally comprehended the full weight of her sentence, and it seemed inevitable that it would crush her.   She cried until the planets’ suns set, and the cabin was all dark.
--------------------

Hopefully, you'll see how much has changed, and find the latest draft the most engrossing.  As far as this story goes, I rewrote about 25,000 words, and decided to go back and change some more stuff, so it's practically a new third draft.

The work shall continue until Warden Chen is satisfied...