Yeah the piercing steel issue is a problem, which is what holds (or should hold) the whole thing together.
I could do with describing the stronghold from which the soldiers emerge, that’s if I can make this bizarre premise work at all.
Maybe I should remove the “size is not an issue” line. It results in too much irrelevance.
Spider silk is currently being processed by Canadians to be used in bullet-proof jackets. It is, according to the telegraph, tougher and stronger than most metals- pound for pound.
Thanks
Sci Fi & Fantasy / The Silk Bullet
It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity. ~Albert Einstein
MANCHESTER, ENGLAND, 2019
The soldiers don’t even attack. Instead, their orders are to seek out deserted areas of the city to retrieve the bodies of the dead.
The humidity and constant burning of any combustibles by machines and humans have left the soldiers the only living creatures in any urban area. The countryside still thrives with life, but to reach it means the impossible- getting past every deadly robot in Manchester- a figure impossible to estimate.
Regardless of rank or any emotional attachment the soldiers may feel, the dead are treated equally- thrown down the main shaft to the receptacle, where they decompose in the warm, summer air.
No one knows the purpose of this. The soldiers- hyped up and angry, want to fight. Salvage missions are testing their patience and they threaten to revolt.
Officer Charnock, grimacing at the nearby stench of rotting flesh, can hear another sound over the high-pitched hum of the fluorescent lights: something inconsistent… a fluctuating, buzzing noise.
This is the first decent building I’ve stepped in a week, he realises. Everywhere else I’ve been has been used as something else. The school that is now a bunker. The shopping complex- now redundant as people rely only on essentials- among others, they were all used awkwardly for something other than their original purpose. They were also unsafe, cold and impractical as they had not been maintained since the war started and society collapsed. Is the lack of noise affecting my hearing? Or the unfamiliar warmth?
He wasn’t made for the forces, but when the worn movie concept became a reality- that the machines we make won’t just fail, they’ll turn against us- the call to arms left nobody a civilian. The whole resistance was enlisted right from senior classroom ages and upwards.
Charnock was trained as a soldier. He’d been brought up on ball-bearing pistols and had once fired a Beretta before the war. His skills as a marksman would be renowned if anyone in his field had time to recognize people’s achievements. Woods- gifted, excelling in biology, was hand picked for the Military Science Board. Some people get lucky.
Today they will meet for the first time since Manchester High- before the microchips revolted. Charnock’s job will be to report back to the troops with whatever information he can find. His superiors have asked for spin- to dress up the MSB’s supposed developments and use this to reinvigorate the soldiers. He is to convince the whole army that salvage, not attack, is the more worthwhile option.
But first, he will need convincing himself.
The corridor’s divide motors open, allowing Charnock to offer Woods a firm handshake.
“Follow me,” says Woods, with an unnerving manic grin.
A nose-diving aircraft groans through the sky behind the concrete bunker. As Charnock steps into the lab, the ground shakes as the massive engine slams into the nearby urban landscape. Charnock loses his footing. Woods does not.
“We’re not sure how long we can stay here without the whole place caving in,” says Woods. “But if we step outside, with those things around, we really are fucked.”
Was it one of our pilots, Charnock wonders, or an enemy drone?
The stench increases ten-fold- and the humidity hits Charnock like a Formaldehyde-drenched rag slammed over his nose and mouth. Charnock’s head starts to throb, the pain magnified by the buzzing sound, now much louder.
“We still don’t know what the machines are made of,” says Woods. “Our armour piercing bullets haven’t been particularly effective so far. But desperate times, as they say…”
Woods must like to pretend he’s immune, Charnock thinks. But he must know the lack of needed hygiene is damaging him and his team.
When Charnock’s watering eyes subside, he realises that the corpses of his comrades are piled in a room in front of him. Behind the glass, the macabre heap grows as another body is dumped from above, landing on others. Charnock recognises some faces on the skulls that crack together.
Woods grips the window ledge. “I realise this isn’t the easiest thing to witness, Charnock. But we’ve done it. Look. The bodies gestate the flies.”
“Right,” says Charnock, bemused.
The guy has turned into a lunatic, he thinks.
“The flies,” Woods points, “feed the spiders.”
Intricate man – made wirework forms a grid from which hundreds of hand-span size, black spiders frantically weave thick masses of silk webs.
Charnock steps back as his stomach tightens. He knows how strong the glass is, knows he’s safe. But he’s repulsed.
The plaque under the window ledge identifies the arachnids as “Araneus Diatematus”.
“The machines are standard steel,” Woods states. “Look at each spider. Ever wondered why their weight doesn’t send them crashing through their own web?
“Spider silk is ten times stronger- and tougher- than steel. Five times stronger than your Kevlar jacket.”
Charnock touches his vest nervously, noticing that the reassurance that the armour normally gives him isn’t there any more.
“The sugar they produce in their abdomens,” says Woods, enthusiastic, “creating this silk, will save us.”
They walk to the next window. A scientist in a beekeeper suit extracts the silk from the wirework, tossing aside the spiders like an ape picks out ticks from the hairs of its mate.
Displaced, the spiders are forced to spin more.
The netted scientist holds a large wad of silk in the palms of his hands, like a new- age religious follower offering donations to a priest. He deposits it in a divide in the wall, like a prison rolling drawer but longer, to allow access through the thick mortar and breezeblock. As the drawer is passed through, pausing in the middle of the wall, the divide gives an airtight gasp as the silk is sterilised.
Woods marches on. “The generals tell me it takes two full rounds of ammo to puncture the drone planes.”
“Maybe,” says Charnock, “but they fly that fast that it’s hard to get that many rounds out. And they’re covered by those bastard tanks on the ground.”
I can’t believe I’m even responding, thinks Charnock. This is war’s depravity at it’s worst.
In the next room two scientists remove the silk. Even when flattened by air removal, it is so dense it could fill a body bag. They manhandle the silk into a funnel, holding it like they are passing on a large snake.
“This is where the magic happens,” murmurs Woods, distant.
From the masses of silk jammed into the funnel and chewed up by the mechanisms, one small bullet is cast and deposited in the end tray. It lands, gleaming like a precious diamond.
Woods slouches, relieved, like an office worker who has closely hit a deadline.
A scientist passes the bullet through a further divide to a man in combat fatigues.
The handheld radio hisses, the sound bouncing back off the large window. “Yeah, that was a direct hit, lads.”
“That blast we heard- we just took one of their machines down a few minutes ago,” says Woods.
Charnock leans back against the wall, and his legs give way. As his combat shirt lifts, his back grazes on the harsh breezeblock. His own challenged morals and the bile in his stomach churn together, and are seasoned with the overpowering death-odour to produce a sickness Charnock has never felt before.
But he has to smile.
“The more of us they kill,” says Charnock, thinking aloud, “the more ammunition we can make… That’s why we were ordered not to leave any bodies…”
Drone planes had killed a few of his friends. He’d never tell anyone this, but the planes scare him. Much faster than the tanks, they are almost impossible to hit.
On a large flat-screen television, propped haphazardly between a desk and a wall, the green-tinted image of urban decay flickers to life. Outside, the moon illuminates the battered city housing the doomed people.
Woods swallows hard. It is the first time he has explained this to any military staff. “There might not be many of us left by the end of the war. But we can punch through all the machines with this in a fraction of time it takes us as it stands. We can’t lose. Do you believe me?”
Charnock, overwhelmed, stutters. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” But it’s just a bullet made out of a cobweb, he thinks. It might work. I can’t think straight right now. Piles of human bodies tend to have this effect on my judgement. If it doesn’t work, my bosses are going to send me back here to kill him. And Woods must know this.
“Good. Recognise this?”
Woods taps the butt of a long, black gun, built into the wall of the complex. Behind it a padded chair, presumably modelled on Naval captain’s seating, has been bolted to the floor.
“Cobra Assault Cannon,” Charnock confirms. “They won’t give it to the soldiers yet, but I’ve seen it on the coalition intranet.”
“Please,” says Woods. “Settle in.”
“You’re gonna let me test it?”
“No,” Woods reiterates. “This isn’t a test. The attachment to the wall stops you from feeling the kickback. In order to penetrate that much steel, you need a fair bit of wallop behind it. Especially when it’s as light as it is. The Cobra, pound for pound, is the most powerful gun on the planet.”
Charnock sits. The chair offers a luxury that he isn’t used to; that seems out of place in the bunker- and his world. He has not sat in a seat this comfortable since he’d had that flat- before the war, before any of the horrible things he’d seen.
“Remember,” Woods murmurs, hovering behind Charnock’s ear like a proud football coach psyching his prized player, “These days, size is not an issue.”
Charnock blinks. “Agreed.” He casts aside the first sexual thought he’s had in two weeks. Instead he thinks of the arachnids, secreting sugary resin from their abdomens, weaving it into tough, durable material that could soon save another species- and maybe their own.
The flatscreen replicates the grey-green sight of the gun. The image, pored over by scientists as if it is some kind of technological shrine, shunts to the left as Charnock adjusts the gun’s positioning.
The people fall deadly silent.
The hum of the building’s generator- now the only sound- begins to distort, taking on new tones. Only the new tones are coming from outside the complex, from the sky.
Charnock nuzzles into the weaponry, trusting it. If this doesn’t work, he thinks, I need to get out of here fast- and take my chances outside. If this experiment fails, then Woods has gone mad. He knows I’d report that information, given half a chance, so he’ll kill me the first chance he gets.
The drone materialises slowly in the gun’s sight, doused in green light, over the decaying cityscape. Charnock has wanted to blow one of these things out of the fucking sky since he saw one bomb a crowded bunker a few months ago, killing most of the people he’d gone through basic training with.
The drone appears to be on a direct course to Woods’ very stronghold. When in range, Charnock pulls the trigger.
The drone plane plummets into a neighbouring building, rupturing gas pipes and electrical cables, crumbling the concrete and engulfing the screen in a giant ball of yellow light. The ground, again, shakes.
There is no way to tell whether the falling wreckage has hit anyone.
“We don’t have the devices to warn people about this,” says Woods, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Well,” says Charnock, thinking of the spiders. “People are going to die anyway.”
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Mika reviewed Version 1 -
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“Woods- gifted, excelling in biology, was hand picked for the military science board.” -> Woods – gifted, excelling in biology – was hand picked for the military science board. (I’m not sure about spacing with the hyphens though.
“But he must know the lack of hygiene measures needed is damaging him and his team” the needed is confusing. Are they not being hygienic because they don’t have to be, or because they aren’t able to be?
Wow, this was really well done and thought provoking. The only thing I can think to comment is that maybe you should describe the characters’ appearances? Although the point of the story is gotten across clearly without them.
Awesome job!
Mika
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burnvictim reviewed Version 1 -
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“to emerge under the cover of darkness”
Emerge? From where?
“or emotional attachment”
Missing either ‘the’ or ‘any’.
“something inconsistent… a buzzing”
Not sure what you mean by inconsistent. A buzz is pretty consistent. Inconsistent with his surroundings? He doesn’t expect a buzz?
“a reasonably solid building”
? Does anyone think in these terms?
“new warmth”
As opposed to old warmth?
“Woods- gifted”
Maybe it’s my Americanism, but I don’t know what this means.
“the lack of hygiene measures needed”
Extremely unclear. Lack of needed hygiene?
“Skulls crack together sickeningly”
Good eg. of an opportunity to show and not tell. Don’t tell us it is sick; make us see and hear something sick.
“The bodies gestate the flies”
Since this is a scientist speaking, this is not at all gestation. The fly larvae EAT the bodies.
“He casts aside the first sexual thought he’s had in two weeks”
What the F? Where did this come from?
Okay, there are several major problems. Tensile strength (which is what a spider web posses) is not the same as hardness, which is what it would require to pierce steel. Also, don’t these people have conventional armaments? Bullets, missiles, bombs? You know, stuff that actually exists in the present, that we use to fight steel machines already? The whole scenario is not even plausible, unless you make it out that Woods is just a Mengele, a renegade and completely mad. Also, when something is morally repugnant or disgusting, there is no need for you as an author to keep telling your audience that it is repugnant and disgusting. You don’t need to tell us how to feel about anything. Show us things on those terms, and we’ll reach that conclusion ourselves.
oneshot92 reviewed Version 1 -
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You have created an amazing alternate world here and the scientific aspect of it all seems very realistic and possible. Though I do recognize this for the fantasy that it is, my mind believes that this scenario is vaguely possible. So kudos on the convincing world and storyline that you have created.
My only additions would be a little more description to the scenery. The smell aspect was great, but I needed to see and feel more.
Also, when he fires the gun, you moved rather quickly with that. This is a man whose entire adult life has been dedicated to killing machines. I would think that he would take more time to enjoy this moment.
These are really all that I have, as you have done a wonderful job with this.
Phantom reviewed Version 2 -
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This was pretty good, but there are a few things I’d like to point out. first off, it felt like there was a style change around the seventh or eighth paragraph. It may not have really been a change per say, but it did stick out at me for some reason. It almost felt as if you went from past tense to present… One other thing is that part of the way through, you mention a ‘Tom.’ Now, I assume that Tom is Charnock, but it is never really confirmed. I suggest towards the beginning when Charnock is first introduced that you go ahead and add his first name in there too. As for it being far fetched… My mind has the ability to wrap itself around just about anything sci-fi or fantasy, so I had no problem with this one. Overall, nice job.
matt_mcbrien reviewed Version 3 -
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The writing is overall quite solid. It’s interesting, and captures my interest. Unfortunately, you have it listed as a short story, and if this is meant to be the whole of the short story, it’s simply coming up short. It’s a good start, but it just stops amid the action without any real sort of conclusion.
The beginning is a bit confusing. After re-reading it a few times, it makes sense, but I don’t think I should have to re-read it to understand. The brief intro makes me feel like I am outside. And then suddenly I’m inside a building with fluorescent lights. The shock we feel about the treatment of the dead should be better followed up on. Nobody knows why? You should show us that Charnock is about to find out, to build better anticipation.
I’d like to see some better sort of explanation for how the machine is turning the spider silk into bullets. But primarily, you need to work on a solid conclusion. Rather than ending the story with Charnock shooting down a drone plane with the bullet made from spiderwebs, I’d prefer to see a summary thought from Charnock about how there aren’t enough corpses to make enough bullets to win, or something along those lines. Give it more of an ironic despair.
Weaver reviewed Version 2 -
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“still thrived with life” – I know what you’re trying to say, but “thrived” doesn’t seem like the right word.
“warm, summer air” – no comma
“The soldiers- hyped up and angry, want to fight.” – You use a dash on one side and a comma on the other. Either works, but you need a matched set here…
comma after “testing their patience”
“Woods- gifted, excelling in biology, was” – Again, comma or dash
As far as I’ve read, the “spider silk” they’re getting to make armor is actually from the milk of engineered goats. The goats have the same protein in their milk as is found in spiders’ silk, but produced in much greater quantities. This protein is extracted from the milk and made into whatever. However, I have seen stranger things in sci-fi stories, and if the basic science of just using spiderweb is sound, the story as a whole works well. You have a good narrative voice, and the setting is vivid even though you don’t weight the story with an overabundance of details – just enough to get the idea across. Please do some research and double-check the viability of the spider-silk concept (especially if it could also be made into bullets), because this story, with a little bit of cleaning up on the punctuation and such, is good enough to have published.
Kimbers reviewed Version 3 -
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Okay, I’m having the inevitable flashes of the Terminator, which you’ve probably expected but I have to say this is a interesting theme to place to plot of the story.
Post apocalyptic Manchester and the one thing that can save humanity is something as innocuous as spider’s silk. The concept on the build of the bullet is well detailed and well thought. You’ve got a complete construction chain and it has the possibility to be believable.
The one thing I will say is maybe just a teeny bit more detail in the surroundings. We know they’re in some kind of complex but that’s about it. Is it well maintained, is it crumbling around them? Is there a lot of high tech equipment or is it a very basic set up? It’s these kind of details that, I think, puts the reader much further into the story, so maybe add a little more.
The one thing I’m going to ‘criticize’ a little is the narrative itself. I’m sorry to say that it sounds a lot like the directions of a play. ’He did this, he did that.’ It’s more instructions for the character than a description of what they are physically doing. Maybe this is your intention, maybe not. I don’t know but I just found it a little too much like a passage of instructions.
Example:
“Officer Charnock, grimacing at the nearby stench of rotting flesh, can hear another sound over the high-pitched hum of the fluorescent lights: something inconsistent… a fluctuating, buzzing noise.”
This is how I would have interpreted it:
“Officer Charnock grimaced at the stench of the nearby bodies, rotting in the oppressive heat of the day. He heard a sound which overpowered the high pitched hum of the fluorescent lights above him. It sounded different, almost inconsistent with the usual background noises of the complex. A fluctuating, buzzing sound.”
This is just a suggestion.
Nice work.
dragonbite reviewed Version 1 -
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Your writing is pretty good. I thought that the idea of cobweb bullets being an ultimate weapon of mass destruction was excellent. However that being said I could help but feel that while I was reading this story that I had been here before. It is reminicent of the Terminator story, I dont mean that as an insult but the images brought me back to the Terminator movies. Your dialouge writing is done well and it helps the story move along and not become stagnate. Maybe to help seperate this story you could give somemore backround as to where these people are and why the spiders are trying to take over and where they came from. I love the idea of technology gone mad and turning on mankind, it is an all to realistic idea. Also the Einstien quote is perfect for helping set up the story. Just add some some more about the charachters to help the reader to relate to them and sympathize with their story. Good job keep on writing.
BuiltForSin reviewed Version 3 -
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“I’ve stepped in a week”
Instead try: ‘I’ve stepped into in a week’ or ‘stepped inside in a week’.
Also his thoughts are really composed and rather well thought out. When I think it’s a jumble of things. My thoughts are messy and hazardous and rarely as planned out as what his thoughts are. As he seems to be in somewhat of a stressful situation I would think his thoughts would be kind of AH as well and not so composed.
“get lucky”
I would suggest using ‘got lucky’ instead.
“Today they will” “he will need”
It almost seems like you’re switching tenses. Instead try “Today they would be” and “he would need”.
You’re also using Charnock’s name a lot. I know you don’t want Woods and Charnock confused, but if the entire paragraph is about Charnock then it only seems logical that every sentence would be about him. If the paragraphs were about both then the usage of the names would probably be needed for clarity.
“Charnock like a Formaldehyde-drenched rag slammed over his nose and mouth. Charnock’s head ” Just say ‘his head’. It’s all ready about him so we understand who you’re talking about all ready.
“fly that fast”
Fly so fast?
“at it’s worst”
It would just be ‘its’ as you don’t mean ‘it is’.
“fall deadly silent.”
I’m not entirely sure ‘deadly’ is the right term for this. I get what you’re going for, though, so I might suggest saying something about how they’re as quiet as the dead bodies on the other side of the glass. Something like that.
I feel like I’ve picked apart your entire excerpt here and I apologize for that. This is REALLY good and holds promising. While spider web bullets seems unimaginable what it comes down to is this is science fiction. Basically anything can happen and I could see a reinforced spider web bullet doing some sort of damage. You didn’t take your story to a place where it’s completely unbelievable.
jakuper reviewed Version 2 -
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have left the soldiers the only living creatures in any urban area. The countryside still thrived with life—As soldiers are alive too, you should write here ” thrived with other life” or even add “than soldiers”.
Officer Charnock, …, can hear another sound—I would write “hears” instead. Your way it’s too detached, as POV isn’t Chamock but somebody else.
Is the lack of noise affecting my hearing?—I don’t understand the train of his thoughts – why he so suddenly jumped to this? And what is the meaning of this question.
But he must know the lack of needed hygiene is damaging him and his team.—where this idea came from and where is it leading, if at all?
but they fly that fast that it’s hard—It sounds awkward. Maybe “but they fly so fast” will be better.
This is war’s depravity at it’s worst—do you mean, him seeing scientists working with silk looks as the depravity? Because I didn’t understand it.
Silk bullets- the idea is very good. But to make it more believable, you shouldn’t use a regular silk for them. Special silk. Regulas silk produced by spiders is strong, but you need something more, something different than the natural process. Maybe spiders eat decomposited bodies too and thus change silk composition? Or maybe you throw parts of robots into bodies’ pile and spiders absorb some of the metal, making silk different. This way or another, you should show it’s a different bio-silk or bio-spiders. SF is different from fantasy by its trying to be scientific. Pseudo-scientific is 100% valid. You gave your explanation very good, just add some pseudo-facts.
What an ending.
It’s a great SF story. You built the plot slowly up to culmination. I likd it very much and I believe the story is ready for publication.
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