Last night, I finished Draft 6 of my novel! The draft before, I printed out the entire 500+ page novel and edited it all by hand, and then Draft 6 was retyping the entire thing, incorporating Draft 5 edits and adjusting/editing more things. So 6 was a time-intensive one, but I’m so glad I did it.
Now, I’m gearing up for another round of peer editing, which I can hopefully get underway by Christmas break.
I’m expecting another couple of drafts, but the pursuit of publication will be happening soon, and I’m so freakin’ excited.
So, in celebration, I decided to share a scene!:
By Friday night, James had torn apart the old prototype of the neural network and had constructed and programmed a completely new one. Its original data capacity sat at about two gigabytes, which would be all too easy to max out.
Stifling a yawn, he plugged the small, segmented device marbled with wire into his computer with a modified sync cord. He watched with a prick of relief as the network’s program materialized on the desktop.
A promising start, at least.
When he clicked on the icon, a window came up and partitioned into a variety of different areas simulating the memory centers of the brain. Each compartment had a short capacity bar at its core. He located his prolific documents folder, highlighted everything, and pulled it all over into the window.
Then he waited.
The transfer lagged a bit, but the capacity bars of a couple centers began to fill. Then it froze, immobilizing the rest of his computer screen.
He waited in breathless silence, staring steadily at the screen. When nothing else happened, he groaned and lowered his forehead to the counter.
And this was only a part of the interlacing network of programs needed for the project. His fruitlessness with this component froze the entire project until the program could be straightened out.
After all that time spent studying the brain and its electrical processes, and all the feverish planning of how to convert it to an electrical model—he thought he had finally figured it out. He tried to be patient and keep a hold on his confidence, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging fear. What if he worked to the end of his strength and sanity and still ran out of time?
James stared at the floor, the counter cold against his forehead. His eyebrows lowered in a glare as he closed his eyes.
I’m really proud of you, son. His father’s words had repeated constantly in his mind since the evening they were uttered.
Jonathan had lied. Dying or not, his father wasn’t satisfied. James would know when his father was truly proud of him because the plaguing, goading weight would life from James’ existence and he would finally be at peace. But after his father had supposedly released him from obligation, the pressure had only increased.
James was tired of suffocating. If he could successfully defy the boundaries of modern science for his father, Jonathan wouldn’t have to lie to him anymore. He would be truly proud of him, and James would finally be free.
And perhaps, when James didn’t have anything else to prove, he and his parents could start over.
But the odds of realizing such a future looked bleak that night.
James could have fallen asleep slumped over the counter, utter exhaustion imminent.
Then his computer made a strange, makeshift beep. James lifted his face, squinting at the bright light of the screen for a moment before his gaze fell on the capacity bars.
Sixteen gigabytes of free space existed wherever a transfer had been made.
“Transfer complete…” he read slowly, hardly believing his own voice. As the full meaning of the words took hold, he leapt into activity with mouth agape, dumping whatever else he could onto the device. Each round of information transfer occurred a little more quickly than the last, and the device accepted all of it, each time reporting more and more available space. He sifted through the device’s archives, finding it had correctly sorted various types of information into the appropriate memory centers.
He stood up and turned from the computer, both hands flying to his head in incredulity.
“It works,” he laughed. “It works!”