Mouse
07-12-08, 02:15 PM
Skrivner Industries Executive Report
-"Project GenForm"
Compiled by Miles Rayburn
It is perhaps the most unfortunate of deeds that I have been assigned to. As I stare at the just blooming beginnings of the report before me, I feel guilty. Truly, there is little reason for this. I've done no wrong here. It was not I who began this torrid affair with power so many years ago. It was not I who shackled this line of women. I am merely given the facts, gathered from here and there, and I put them together, for Him. I mean, of course, Albert Skrivner. His name is as harsh and shrewd as his business dealings, and it can only be a man as abrasive as this to cultivate Project GenForm.
Name: Mouse Harris
Age: 27
Birthdate: 03/22/45
Eye: Brown
Hair: Brown
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 166 lbs
I feel a new form of guilt now. I know that I'm putting in the wrong information. You see, there is a purpose to this tedious work, inputting and maintaining statistics for the "employees" of Skrivner Industries. It all has to do with the way corporations work, and the birth of Project GenForm.
In our time, countries are near abolished. Everything is corporate. Wars are no longer waged on the religious front, now the icons of movement are cola and clothing. Governments and borders only exist because they always have. At election time, people vote for who the cola companies put on their cans, for the candidates that have the most corporate endorsements. Strangely, it works. The nation is prosperous, there are enough jobs to go around. Everyone is just happy enough to keep from admitting that they've been culled into cattle. The only stress in the corporations lives' is the struggle to keep workers from going to the competition.
That is where Mr. Skrivner came up with GenForm. For most of his workers, private health care was out of reach, the cost of signing up for benefits outweighed the actual good those benefits did. He decided to make everything free. If you work for Skrivner Industries, you are taken care of for the rest of your life. Oh, but there's always a catch. Mr. Skrivner is a modern day Rumpelstiltskin. His price is your children, to be raised to work for him. One loyal worker turns into generations of them, and there's suddenly no need to worry about other companies. It's brilliant, really, until we started losing them.
Personality Quirks: Intelligent, Macabre Humor Style, Promiscuous, Prone to Violence
Appearance: Keeps curly brown hair pulled up away from nape of neck. Secures in loose bun with brass-plated headband. Wears brass and leather heeled boots, a black corset with steel ribbing, a 3/4 sleeved black button up blouse with bronze colored silk piping, and black slacks. Keeps fingernails short by biting them, and has a tattoo of a wrench on her right wrist.
It had always been my sincere opinion that the last person we should have lost was Mouse. After all, in the cookie cutter ensemble of today's world, she stood out. Everything had to be made with her own hands to be worth anything to her. She was so practicle. That in and of itself is a rare thing these days. I had always thought that if anyone made it out of the Project alive, it would have been her. She has been one of the many files I meticulously update week after week since she was five years old. Today is the last day that I will update it.
Current Status: Dead
Current Status: Alive
It could easily be said that I am more confused right now than I have ever been. I have woken up in quite a different world than I remember, and yet, I have memories of always being here. If I think about it, I can remember both my life here and my life on Earth. My life on Earth was the calmer one, strangely enough. My name was...is Mouse. I was born in 3045 in sunny Nevada at the Comcast Regional Hospital. My mom was an employee at Skrivner Inc, and so when I graduated high school, I was hired on. The rest of my life had been a parade of men, friends, and attempts to find another job. Nothing special, even though that last one managed to piss off all the wrong people. My mom wanted me to be happy with Skrivner, to sit down and pop out a few babies ot be the next chains in the cycle. I wanted to live somewhere on the coast, on a little acre of land, growing my own food and raising goats. I didn't want to work as a corporate slave. So, I made my own clothes, I collected old tech, and somehow got punished for it. There was a test of a new form of light or something. I've lost the details in my mind, but all I remember is a bright flash, and then I was here, remembering another life alongside of the one I'm sure I lived.
As far as here goes, I was born on the not-quite-as-sunny-as-Nevada edge of Raiaera and Alerar. I was named Ai'mithe Nurtaya Nyano. My father was a blacksmith who had somehow managed to tie down my mother, a beautiful elven maiden whose tribe wandered the world in search of beautiful things. She'd died giving birth to me, and he raised me the best he could. Pops there didn't do too shabby of a job, really. I went to school with Alerian children, and I needed to be tough. Despite having raised a girl who thought like a boy, I was pretty much a success. A feather in my old man's cap if you will. I was good and quiet and still mildly interested in girly things like kittens, all up until I turned twenty and puberty went hog wild with me. I think between my discoveries of the more subtle relations between boys and girls and the uprising of Xem Zund in Raiaera, it was too much. My father, ever the figure of strength and health, managed to suffer from a heart attack and passed on to the Forest of Light. I took refuge in Ettermire.
I worked odd jobs in kitchens and inns until I fell into bed with the right boy. Lazy chats between the sheets revealed that he had been working for an inventor in Ettermire for quite some time and was soon to be going on a trip. The old man had built a steam airship and wanted to fly it around the world. He'd been talking to his boss about me, and between my upbringing as a blacksmiths daughter who had minimal but worthwhile knowledge of metal and heat, and the fact that I could cook, the old man wanted me along. It was the moment that changed everything.
If I had been some human in another world and time and had fallen into this elven girl's life, what was there to be done? I felt like I had been changed when I woke up, confused in my bed. I wasn't searching for a way back. Be a slave or be free? There was only one decision. I was going to live my life to the fullest, and make sure that it stayed this way. The worry that I could be ripped back into the other life was nagging at my spine. Like a dog, choking on the leash, I intended to do everything in my power for freedom.
Weapons - Wrench
Armor - Steel boning along the ribs of her corset
Skills:
Herbalism - Average, related to cooking and identifying poisonous plants.
Steam Engine Knowledge - Below Average
Cooking - Above Average
Blacksmithing Knowledge - Below Average
-"Project GenForm"
Compiled by Miles Rayburn
It is perhaps the most unfortunate of deeds that I have been assigned to. As I stare at the just blooming beginnings of the report before me, I feel guilty. Truly, there is little reason for this. I've done no wrong here. It was not I who began this torrid affair with power so many years ago. It was not I who shackled this line of women. I am merely given the facts, gathered from here and there, and I put them together, for Him. I mean, of course, Albert Skrivner. His name is as harsh and shrewd as his business dealings, and it can only be a man as abrasive as this to cultivate Project GenForm.
Name: Mouse Harris
Age: 27
Birthdate: 03/22/45
Eye: Brown
Hair: Brown
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 166 lbs
I feel a new form of guilt now. I know that I'm putting in the wrong information. You see, there is a purpose to this tedious work, inputting and maintaining statistics for the "employees" of Skrivner Industries. It all has to do with the way corporations work, and the birth of Project GenForm.
In our time, countries are near abolished. Everything is corporate. Wars are no longer waged on the religious front, now the icons of movement are cola and clothing. Governments and borders only exist because they always have. At election time, people vote for who the cola companies put on their cans, for the candidates that have the most corporate endorsements. Strangely, it works. The nation is prosperous, there are enough jobs to go around. Everyone is just happy enough to keep from admitting that they've been culled into cattle. The only stress in the corporations lives' is the struggle to keep workers from going to the competition.
That is where Mr. Skrivner came up with GenForm. For most of his workers, private health care was out of reach, the cost of signing up for benefits outweighed the actual good those benefits did. He decided to make everything free. If you work for Skrivner Industries, you are taken care of for the rest of your life. Oh, but there's always a catch. Mr. Skrivner is a modern day Rumpelstiltskin. His price is your children, to be raised to work for him. One loyal worker turns into generations of them, and there's suddenly no need to worry about other companies. It's brilliant, really, until we started losing them.
Personality Quirks: Intelligent, Macabre Humor Style, Promiscuous, Prone to Violence
Appearance: Keeps curly brown hair pulled up away from nape of neck. Secures in loose bun with brass-plated headband. Wears brass and leather heeled boots, a black corset with steel ribbing, a 3/4 sleeved black button up blouse with bronze colored silk piping, and black slacks. Keeps fingernails short by biting them, and has a tattoo of a wrench on her right wrist.
It had always been my sincere opinion that the last person we should have lost was Mouse. After all, in the cookie cutter ensemble of today's world, she stood out. Everything had to be made with her own hands to be worth anything to her. She was so practicle. That in and of itself is a rare thing these days. I had always thought that if anyone made it out of the Project alive, it would have been her. She has been one of the many files I meticulously update week after week since she was five years old. Today is the last day that I will update it.
Current Status: Dead
Current Status: Alive
It could easily be said that I am more confused right now than I have ever been. I have woken up in quite a different world than I remember, and yet, I have memories of always being here. If I think about it, I can remember both my life here and my life on Earth. My life on Earth was the calmer one, strangely enough. My name was...is Mouse. I was born in 3045 in sunny Nevada at the Comcast Regional Hospital. My mom was an employee at Skrivner Inc, and so when I graduated high school, I was hired on. The rest of my life had been a parade of men, friends, and attempts to find another job. Nothing special, even though that last one managed to piss off all the wrong people. My mom wanted me to be happy with Skrivner, to sit down and pop out a few babies ot be the next chains in the cycle. I wanted to live somewhere on the coast, on a little acre of land, growing my own food and raising goats. I didn't want to work as a corporate slave. So, I made my own clothes, I collected old tech, and somehow got punished for it. There was a test of a new form of light or something. I've lost the details in my mind, but all I remember is a bright flash, and then I was here, remembering another life alongside of the one I'm sure I lived.
As far as here goes, I was born on the not-quite-as-sunny-as-Nevada edge of Raiaera and Alerar. I was named Ai'mithe Nurtaya Nyano. My father was a blacksmith who had somehow managed to tie down my mother, a beautiful elven maiden whose tribe wandered the world in search of beautiful things. She'd died giving birth to me, and he raised me the best he could. Pops there didn't do too shabby of a job, really. I went to school with Alerian children, and I needed to be tough. Despite having raised a girl who thought like a boy, I was pretty much a success. A feather in my old man's cap if you will. I was good and quiet and still mildly interested in girly things like kittens, all up until I turned twenty and puberty went hog wild with me. I think between my discoveries of the more subtle relations between boys and girls and the uprising of Xem Zund in Raiaera, it was too much. My father, ever the figure of strength and health, managed to suffer from a heart attack and passed on to the Forest of Light. I took refuge in Ettermire.
I worked odd jobs in kitchens and inns until I fell into bed with the right boy. Lazy chats between the sheets revealed that he had been working for an inventor in Ettermire for quite some time and was soon to be going on a trip. The old man had built a steam airship and wanted to fly it around the world. He'd been talking to his boss about me, and between my upbringing as a blacksmiths daughter who had minimal but worthwhile knowledge of metal and heat, and the fact that I could cook, the old man wanted me along. It was the moment that changed everything.
If I had been some human in another world and time and had fallen into this elven girl's life, what was there to be done? I felt like I had been changed when I woke up, confused in my bed. I wasn't searching for a way back. Be a slave or be free? There was only one decision. I was going to live my life to the fullest, and make sure that it stayed this way. The worry that I could be ripped back into the other life was nagging at my spine. Like a dog, choking on the leash, I intended to do everything in my power for freedom.
Weapons - Wrench
Armor - Steel boning along the ribs of her corset
Skills:
Herbalism - Average, related to cooking and identifying poisonous plants.
Steam Engine Knowledge - Below Average
Cooking - Above Average
Blacksmithing Knowledge - Below Average