Not under control   von VideoGameCrack
          (Mein NaNoWriMo-Projekt für 2010 - mit täglichen Updates!)
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                              Kapitel 1: Day One
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Beep.
He always hated that noise.
Beep.
Every single morning, he heard it.
Beep.
He never got quite behind why it had to be such an annoying noise.
Beep.
Every time he heard it, it felt like it was draining his life force...
Beep.
…making it harder and harder to stop it.
Beep.
But if it was there to actually wake him up, why was it doing the exact
opposite?
Beep.
He knew that he had to push the button sometime, or it will just get worse.
Beep.
Slowly, his hand was reaching out for the alarm clock to hit the button and stop
the annoying sound that came from behind him.
Silence.
It was so relaxing to hear absolutely nothing. While he was listening to it, he
asked himself: „Why did I turn on the alarm clock? It's Saturday!“
Gerald, who started to regain his conciousness, got out of his bed, scratching
his backhead and making his hair look even messier than it already did, and
moved towards the bath to get his daily dose of icy water to wake up, as the
noise he didn't like to speak of didn't do the job. All that while he continued
asking himself why the alarm was switched on.
„Maybe I just forgot to turn it off yesterday...“
The cold, liquid wetness hit his face with full force, which caused him to
actually feel like he just woke up. But even though his mind was as clear as it
could get, he still wondered about the clock.
„Maybe I should just eat something. That'll probably help.“
Still just in his underwear, Gerald set foot in the kitchen. It wasn't a big
kitchen, but it certainly was enough for a one-man household. He took the black
tea out of the cupboard, when a little manuscript on the desk catched his eye.
Six months ago, he decided to write a book. A detective story set in a town
where crime reigns and a private detective was about to get behind something
big. But as he progressed, he felt like it was getting harder and harder to
continue the story, until he stopped all togehter a few weeks ago.
The little booklet layed on the table just as he left it when he wrote the at
the time last words of the novel:
„Frank wasn't sure what it was, but he knew it couldn't be anything good.“
When he started writing, Gerald felt so full of ideas, but now, there was no way
he could continue in his current state.
„Why haven't I put that already away?“, he mumbled to himself as he let the
water boil to make his tea. It continued to bother him why he let himself get
penetrated by that obnoxius beeping. 
As it still took a few minutes until his tea was ready to drink, he took a seat
to let his eyes wonder on that last page. It kinda fascinated him that he got
this far in his story and also made him a little upset that he couldn't continue
it. But why bother? He wasn't the person to force himself to do stuff. He needed
some kind of inspiration to get something done.
As he got more and more absorbed into his own story, he heard a slightly less
irritating beeping that indicated that his tea was ready. After throwing the tea
bag into the bin, he began staring into his cup.
Gerald had no idea why he preferred black tea over coffee. They both had a
rather bitter taste and neither of them really helped him to feel full of energy
and enthusiam to grab the day and roll with it. Maybe it was just that the awful
taste of the black tea didn't stay that long in his mouth.
„Hm... coffee... there was something...“
In that exact moment, it struck him like lightning. He wanted to meet Sebastian
in the bakery because he had some very important news for him he wanted to tell
him in person. He had no idea why Sebastian didn't just tell him that on the
phone, but maybe he just wanted to meet him again.
He also didn't know how his thought process changed from „coffee“ to
„meeting him in the bakery“. Maybe it was because he, unlike Gerald, liked
to drink coffee?
Without further ado – and letting his black tea get cold – he grabbed the
first jeans he could find, together with a fleece jacket, put them on in about
thirty seconds, rushed out of his appartment together with his shoes because he
thought he already wasted enough time and ran out of the house. Thankfully, the
bakery was only around the corner, but there had to be a reason why his friend
wanted to meet him so early.
As he reached the bakery, still trying to put his shoes on, he spotted a blonde
man with green eyes sitting behind the window drinking out of his cup. Gerald
just waved his hand to indicate that he didn't completely forget to show up,
dashed inside and took the seat opposite to him.
That resulted in a very weird look of the man. It was that kind of look saying
„I know I should be asking myself why the hell that just happened, but I think
it looks better if I stay cool and raise one of my eyebrows at most“.
„...you forgot again why you had the alarm on, right?“
„Oh, come on!“, Gerald complained. „It doesn't happen that often.“
„Calm down and have a tea.“
„I probably would have if I didn't think about why I didn't like coffee.“
„Just as weird as ever.“
„I know, I know...“
For the next few minutes, the confused guy who forgot to comb his hair and felt
like he might as well be called Arthur Dent and and his tidy friend with the
stoic behaviour just sat opposite to each other, exchaning glances and waiting
for the other to come up with a subject.
Finally, Sebastian opened his mouth and asked:
„Say, are you still working on that book you spoke about in spring?“
Gerald looked away, feeling a little bit ashamed.
„...haven't I told you already?“
„If you did, I would remember it.“
He sighed.
„I didn't continue writing for about three weeks.“
„That's just your writer's block. Believe me, it will get better soon.“
„I doubt it, Bastian.“ Gerald answered with few confidence. „It wasn't
like it just happened. It was like I was running out of ideas from the very
moment I started writing!“
„Well, no matter how you managed to write yourself into a corner, I think I
know a way to cure it!“
The brown-haired author thought he knew what was coming. „Let me guess: Some
sort of „How to write a bestseller“ seminars? Really, Bastian, you know how
I think of this stuff!
„Sorta.“
Sebastian took a sip.
„But that's not what I'm trying to offer you.“
As he put his cup on the desk, he continued: „I kinda thought to myself that
you're going to have some problems, so I did a little bit of research on the
Internet to find a way to help you.“
Gerald got a confused look on his face. „And that would be?“
„It sounds very weird, but according to the description, it's a ritual that
will allow yourself to gather tons of ideas for your stories.“
Now he just look at Sebastian the same way he did when he entered. „Honestly,
that sounds even stupider than those seminars! I may not be someone who's really
down-to-earth, but even I can sense there's something fishy about it!“
Sebastian pushed his hands away from himself, as if to say „Just give me some
time to explain“. „I can fully understand that it sounds like it's going to
be utterly ridicilous, but I wouldn't tell you about it if I haven't heard of
other people who also used that ritual and thought that it helped a lot. They
say stuff like „It's as if the story itself is telling me how to continue!“.
And that's more like the rule than the exception.“
„Well, I still don't know.“
„Look, you don't even know how it works. Maybe you should try it out first
before you judge it.“
„I guess you're right, but still. It sounds crazy.“
„Crazy as in „the guy who forgot why he wanted to get up early“?“
„Now that was just completely unnessecary“.
„C'mon, Gerald, just a joke“ Sebastian replied. „I mean, how long do we
know each other now?“
„Lemme see... four, five years?“
„Exactly. And how often do we meet just as friends to sit down and talk a bit,
since you've started your novel?“
„...very rarely?“
„Correct.“
After a short pause, Gerald answered: „And why did you wanted me to meet me so
early?“
„Because otherwise I wouldn't have the time. I can get later to work today, so
I thought it would be a nice idea. Haven't I told you?“
„...no?“
„Then sorry for that.“ Sebastian got up. „I have to go now, then. I'll
mail you the information for the ritual today evening, kay?“
„Kay.“
The blonde, after paying, went out of the bakery, waving at Gerald as he got
away. Gerald on the other hand kept sitting in the bakery for a while, thinking
about what his friend just told him.
„Well, I promised him to at least try, but... I'm pretty sure it won't
work.“

It was about 7 PM. Gerald took a look at some job offers on his computer, as he
heard something resembling a doorbell. Though it wasn't a doorbell, but his
Instant Messenger who told him that somebody called „Rakushina“ sent him a
message. He proceeded to open the chatlog, with the message saying:
„I'm pretty sure that you remember what that's supposed to be... or do I?“,
followed by a very obscure looking link.
Without thinking about the message itself, he moved his cursor to the link and
clicked it. What loaded was a page with white text on black background. Slowly
looking through what was written there, he couldn't believe his eyes. That was
really supposed to work? That has to be some sort of joke!
But then he remembered that he wanted to try it out before having an actual
opinion about it. As he had nothing to do anymore – and because the job offers
weren't really what he was hoping for – he printed out the text and started to
follow the instructions.
First, he needed to get his script and put it in front of himself.
Then, he had to place candles to the left and right of his unfinished novel.
Apparently, they were only there to build atmosphere, but if he had to try it,
then he had to try it the right way, even if some instructions weren't needed
for the ritual to work.
After drawing a circle and placing it below the book, Gerald started to wonder
if he wasn't starting a satanic ritual by now. What if all the people talking
good were actually demons trying to get more people to summon more demons?
„Yeah, of course.“
He then got to the last step. Pulling the instructions out of his trousers, he
began reciting what was needed to be recited to get the ritual to work.
„Notarc no ruy oti ni nard eb lahs oy.“
Before he could think to himself „What kind of gibberish was that?“,
something else started to bother him. Didn't he hear the candles burning about
five seconds ago? Putting away the paper, he realised that he wasn't in his
living room anymore, but instead surrounded by giant black cubes while standing
on something that sort of resembles a road.
„Dammit, I was right about the Satanic thing.“
„No, you weren't.“
This calming voice came from behind him. Slowly turning around, he spotted a man
in a beige trench coat with a tooth pick between his teeth.
„Or at least not, until you wrote something about Satan.“
„Wait a second... Frank?“
„Yes, indeed. It's me, your main character.“

Gerald looked shocked. Was that guy serious? How could that happen in the first
place?
„I know that this may sound crazy to you, but it is true. I am a creation of
your writing.“
„But... how... why...?“
„You may calm down first. It might be a good idea that you can breathe
properly while I'm trying to explain to you what is actually going on.“
Following Frank's advice, he started breathing slowly and deliberately, until he
could grasp a clear thought again.
„Okay, I think I'm fine now.“
„Very well. Now follow me.“
Frank turned around and walked down the road, with Gerald catching up to him.
„First of all, the place we're in right now is the world of your story.“
„Wait... are you telling me this is the city? I think I described it as dark,
but certainly not as this black...“
„This world only follows the instuctions it gets when you're writing. So it
must have been described as this dark.“
Gerald took a quick look around. No matter where he looked, he only spotted
giant black cubes. This started to get rather worrying.
„So... where are we anyway?“
„Haven't you got that by now?“ Frank answered. „This is the world of your
story.“
„No, I meant it more like: Is this in my head? Am I in a different dimension?
Is it something I never could guess?“
„Oh, I see.“ Frank took the tooth pick and threw it away. „To be fair, I
have no idea. But then again, I don't think it would make any sort of
difference.“
„Oh.“
They walked a few minutes side by side, with none of them saying a word. Gerald
still didn't really get what was going on, and Frank waited for Gerald to ask a
very specific question.
„How does this world work, anyway?“
And there it was.
„I waited for that one, Gerald. You see, this world has a few rules it must
follow under all circumstances.“
„And those would be?“
„Well, first off, nothing that hasn't been mentioned in any way in the story
exists here.“
„So it only can become reality here if I write about it at least once?“
„Exactly.“
As Gerald looked straight ahead, he realised that the lines of building just
stopped. He also didn't spot the road anymore. As he looked on his feet, he saw
that he almost fell down the road.
„Gerald, what are you doing there?“ Frank yelled at him from behind, before
walking to him and looking in the same direction has Gerald does. „Huh, never
noticed that.“
„Never noticed that? Everything just stops and you're telling me that you have
never even seen?“
„Why would I? There is absolutely nothing in that direction.“
„And what if anybody else accidently fell down there?“
„I don't see the reason to come here in the first place.“
Gerald knew that he wouldn't understand what he's talking about for a while, so
he proceeded to forget about it for a while and continue walking beside Frank
while he kept on answering Gerald's question.
„Say, is there something else I need to know about this place?“
„Of course. For example, when one part of the story gets cut out, it's treated
like it never existed.“
„Oookaaay... anything else?“
„Well, there are two more rules that apply, One, the world recreates the
scenario exactly like you write it.“
„And two?“
Frank turns to Gerald.
„We all know that we are only part of a story.“
„So you basically just... act?“
„That's pretty much it.“
The two of them stopped walking.
„And that's really everything I need to know about this word?“ Gerald
asked.
Frank nodded.
„Well, everything except how to leave this place again.“
„And how do I do that?“
„Remember the words you used to enter your story in the first place?“
Gerald looked at his right hand, in which he still had the paper with the
instructions.
„I have them right here.“
„Just repeat them and you'll be back in your own world again.“
He kept looking at the paper.
„I suppose we're going to meet again, aren't we?“
„Of course“ Gerald replied. „But first, I want to have a lock around town
to see how I can improve it...“
„No problem with that. Should I come with you or do you want to be alone?“
„I think I'll be well on my own, but thank you.“
And so, they parted ways, wandering through the lifeless feeling quote-unquote
city. Frank pulled a tooth pick out of his jacket, while Gerald tried to collect
ideas to make the city feel more like a city. In its current state, it felt more
like a badly decorated warehouse than anything.

Back in his natural habitat – in other words, in his living room - Gerald
started rewriting parts of the script while laying on his couch. He found this
way of writing a lot more comfortable. 
But in the middle of writing, he started to ask himself: Why did he have so few
problems grasping what happened a few hours ago? Something this surreal should
more likely bother him for months to come. Maybe it was because he was the cause
of this in the first place, but then he came to the conclusion that it's no use
thinking about it, because in the end, he probably didn't want the answer
anymore.
Sunk in his thoughts, the phone rang. It was Sebastian.
„Hi, Gerald.“
„Good evening, Bastian.“
„Say, did you have the time to test that ritual already?“
„Yeah, I did.“
„So? Did it help?“
Gerald didn't really know what to answer without sounding like he was on really
bad drugs instead.
„You see, it's weird to explain, but it really felt like the story itself was
helping me!“
„So you basically just reread what you've written so far?“
„No, no. It's... complicated. Sorry, but I'm in the middle of improving the
story.“
„Oh, I see. Sorry that I bothered you.“
„Nah, it's okay. I just wanna continue, alright?“
„Kay. See you then.“
And few seconds later, he heard beeps in a slow rhythm coming out of the
speaker.
„I had it a lot with beeps lately, didn't I?“

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