Post by vanessajoyce on Aug 10, 2008 11:08:48 GMT -5
I've got the basic outline of what I want to cover in the next story. I'm fleshing out particular scenes that need to be really strong and I'd really appreciate some comments on one of these.
At this point, WALL-E is still fairly simple in personality -- no "feelings" per se. (This is only 90 years after the humans have left.) In the scene previous to this, he has just had a major system crash. All he knows at this point is that he is breaking down, but doesn't know why.
Again this is still in draft stage, so I'm working on getting the right "feel", not necessarily the right words at this moment.
I just want everyone to know too that I will be acknowledging everyone's help in my final version, and will credit particular individuals if their contributions are particularly helpful.
Thanks for reading!
-----------------------------
System has restarted.
Safe mode.
Minimal functionality.
Beginning full system scan and diagnostic.
Every part of him felt drained and cold. He tried to open his lenses, but they were wedged shut.
He lifted his head slowly and tried again. They opened reluctantly and he looked around. He had toppled forward and was now face-down in the dirt.
He tried to move but none of his limbs would respond.
Inquiry: How long will peripherals be unavailable?
Response: System is busy. No inquiries permitted until scan and diagnostic is complete. System will be unavailable for 48 hours.
WALL-E’s head slumped forward, his eyes falling back into the dirt. Forty-eight hours without access to his system. No inquiries, no commands, and no directive.
With a sudden jolt, he realized something else. His now-useless arms were tangled up underneath his neck, blocking his solar panels from opening.
This was bad. He couldn’t wait 48 hours. He would surely run out of power before then. He had no idea how much power he had left even at this moment.
He had to get up. He couldn’t wait for humans or his system or anything else. And he had to do it himself. Now.
He quickly took an inventory of himself. Arms, wheels, laser, compactor, axles . . . none of them were working.
But the gears that opened his compactor door . . . he could feel them engage when he accessed them.
He closed his lenses and concentrated. He turned the wheels as hard and as fast as he could.
The door opened, lifting him tentatively from fully horizontal to only slightly vertical a couple of inches. In the rush of possibility, he lost focus — the door slammed shut again and he fell completely forward and flat again.
A wave of tiredness swept over him. He was losing power — fast.
He closed his lenses again, focused and spun the gears with all the power he had left. Smoke leaked from the compartment door, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. All he had was pouring itself into those small, squealing gears. His whole frame began slowly to lift . . . lift . . . lift . . .
All of a sudden, gravity took over. Dust curled around him as the edge of his door and his wheels clanged down hard on the solid ground. The force knocked his arms free; they flopped over on top of his wheels.
He immediately opened his solar panels.
He was alive. For now.
For two days he sat immobile as his system went through its courses. The first few hours he did nothing but stare straight ahead. But after about five hours, he began to feel a strange tickling sort of sensation somewhere inside of him. He didn’t know what it was and, of course, he couldn’t ask his system to define it. But it made him feel compelled to do something . . . anything.
He began to do a walk-through of his internal systems. He didn’t have access to any of it, but he mentally found each part, identified it and its purpose, and moved on to the next piece.
Suddenly he came across a program that he couldn’t identify. He was sure he had used it before, but he couldn’t ask his system when. He looked at the code for awhile, but he still couldn’t tell what it was for. He tried to run it.
It started. WALL-E had the sensation that it was accessing some hardware . . . something in his front panel area.
Communication program started. Hardware test script initializing . . .
“Name? ”
“Waaaa . . . ” WALL-E jumped as a scratchy, tenative sound slipped out from his front panel. “Waaa . . . haaa . . . lee.” The voice seemed to belong to something that wasn’t a part of him, but the program and the hardware felt comfortable and inviting. He felt a sudden urge to use them again.
The test script continued.
“Status?”
He eagerly accessed the functionality again, but stopped. What was his status?
WALL-E looked down at his dust-covered frame. He gazed around at the emptiness surrounding him. He listened to the absolute quiet enclosing him. He closed his lenses and tried to understand the moment he was in. What was all this? What was it called?
“Status?”
He let out a soft, low-pitched whistling wail.
Yes, that was his status.
The communication program continued through its series of tests and WALL-E found he could comfortably respond to each and every question it asked him.
Tests complete. Subject’s communication functionality passes all minimum requirements. End of program.
WALL-E blinked in surprise. He had expected the program would tell him what he was supposed to do with this functionality once the tests were over. Everything in him had a purpose. His compactor, his wheels – everything was there to do a job. What was the purpose of his communication functionality?
He gave a soft electronic sigh. He would have to wait until his system was available again for inquiries. Surely it would know what the purpose of communication was.
At this point, WALL-E is still fairly simple in personality -- no "feelings" per se. (This is only 90 years after the humans have left.) In the scene previous to this, he has just had a major system crash. All he knows at this point is that he is breaking down, but doesn't know why.
Again this is still in draft stage, so I'm working on getting the right "feel", not necessarily the right words at this moment.
I just want everyone to know too that I will be acknowledging everyone's help in my final version, and will credit particular individuals if their contributions are particularly helpful.
Thanks for reading!
-----------------------------
System has restarted.
Safe mode.
Minimal functionality.
Beginning full system scan and diagnostic.
Every part of him felt drained and cold. He tried to open his lenses, but they were wedged shut.
He lifted his head slowly and tried again. They opened reluctantly and he looked around. He had toppled forward and was now face-down in the dirt.
He tried to move but none of his limbs would respond.
Inquiry: How long will peripherals be unavailable?
Response: System is busy. No inquiries permitted until scan and diagnostic is complete. System will be unavailable for 48 hours.
WALL-E’s head slumped forward, his eyes falling back into the dirt. Forty-eight hours without access to his system. No inquiries, no commands, and no directive.
With a sudden jolt, he realized something else. His now-useless arms were tangled up underneath his neck, blocking his solar panels from opening.
This was bad. He couldn’t wait 48 hours. He would surely run out of power before then. He had no idea how much power he had left even at this moment.
He had to get up. He couldn’t wait for humans or his system or anything else. And he had to do it himself. Now.
He quickly took an inventory of himself. Arms, wheels, laser, compactor, axles . . . none of them were working.
But the gears that opened his compactor door . . . he could feel them engage when he accessed them.
He closed his lenses and concentrated. He turned the wheels as hard and as fast as he could.
The door opened, lifting him tentatively from fully horizontal to only slightly vertical a couple of inches. In the rush of possibility, he lost focus — the door slammed shut again and he fell completely forward and flat again.
A wave of tiredness swept over him. He was losing power — fast.
He closed his lenses again, focused and spun the gears with all the power he had left. Smoke leaked from the compartment door, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. All he had was pouring itself into those small, squealing gears. His whole frame began slowly to lift . . . lift . . . lift . . .
All of a sudden, gravity took over. Dust curled around him as the edge of his door and his wheels clanged down hard on the solid ground. The force knocked his arms free; they flopped over on top of his wheels.
He immediately opened his solar panels.
He was alive. For now.
For two days he sat immobile as his system went through its courses. The first few hours he did nothing but stare straight ahead. But after about five hours, he began to feel a strange tickling sort of sensation somewhere inside of him. He didn’t know what it was and, of course, he couldn’t ask his system to define it. But it made him feel compelled to do something . . . anything.
He began to do a walk-through of his internal systems. He didn’t have access to any of it, but he mentally found each part, identified it and its purpose, and moved on to the next piece.
Suddenly he came across a program that he couldn’t identify. He was sure he had used it before, but he couldn’t ask his system when. He looked at the code for awhile, but he still couldn’t tell what it was for. He tried to run it.
It started. WALL-E had the sensation that it was accessing some hardware . . . something in his front panel area.
Communication program started. Hardware test script initializing . . .
“Name? ”
“Waaaa . . . ” WALL-E jumped as a scratchy, tenative sound slipped out from his front panel. “Waaa . . . haaa . . . lee.” The voice seemed to belong to something that wasn’t a part of him, but the program and the hardware felt comfortable and inviting. He felt a sudden urge to use them again.
The test script continued.
“Status?”
He eagerly accessed the functionality again, but stopped. What was his status?
WALL-E looked down at his dust-covered frame. He gazed around at the emptiness surrounding him. He listened to the absolute quiet enclosing him. He closed his lenses and tried to understand the moment he was in. What was all this? What was it called?
“Status?”
He let out a soft, low-pitched whistling wail.
Yes, that was his status.
The communication program continued through its series of tests and WALL-E found he could comfortably respond to each and every question it asked him.
Tests complete. Subject’s communication functionality passes all minimum requirements. End of program.
WALL-E blinked in surprise. He had expected the program would tell him what he was supposed to do with this functionality once the tests were over. Everything in him had a purpose. His compactor, his wheels – everything was there to do a job. What was the purpose of his communication functionality?
He gave a soft electronic sigh. He would have to wait until his system was available again for inquiries. Surely it would know what the purpose of communication was.
More please!!! 
