Indistinguishable

[ZeeAk]

I was doing some reading on Wikipedia the other day, and stumbled across Clarke's laws. I'd heard the third one before, and it's always been something that I've thought is a cool way to look at the advancement of society. This is just the opening of what I hope to really expand and create an interesting piece out of. So, without further ado, I present to you Indistinguishable.

"Please remind me, young man, exactly what you're trying to sell me." The voice almost reeked of indignation.
"Sir," began the reply, "I am trying to sell you Clarke's laws." This second voice, this salesperson's voice, was patient and seemingly rehearsed. He had, it seemed, attempted to sell the very same notions to numerous others.
Obviously to no avail, thought the prospective buyer, the man behind the first voice, else they would not be here. He opened his mouth, prepared to make a sarcastic response, but decided against it. He caught a glimpse of determination in the other man's azure eyes, and his persistence was evidence enough that he was confident in his good or service. The buyer was not quite sure which, yet; if either.
"I can't say I've heard of these laws." The buyer apathetically slapped his hand down on the thickened mahogany desk before him.
"Allow me to enlighten you, sir?" A cheeky, encouraged grin cracked over the seller's face as he offered his explanation. Wordlessly, the buyer gestured him to speak, and nodded simultaneously. The seller was supremely confident now, knowing that his opening salvo of scant details and seemingly hollow promises had pricked at least some sense of curiosity in the other man.
"Clarke's laws are three-fold," began the seller, his voice warm and co-operative. Calmly, he slipped a finger into his mop of blonde, unkempt hair, twirling the thin, clean strands of light gold. Raising his opposite hand, in an attempt at undisguised showmanship, he slowly uncurled his index finger.
"The first states that when an illustrious, yet aging, man of science claims something is possible, he is almost certainly right. However, it also states that when this same man of science alleges something to be impossible he is just as certainly -"
"Right. He is always right." The buyer cut in, obviously displeased with the irrelevance of this 'law'. The seller's toothless grin split, revealing cared for, glimmering teeth. The seller was well aware of this, and had in fact practiced this exact moment. His teeth had been artificially whitened in an effort to promote a sense of self-preservation and attention to detail in the seller that was not quite present.
"No," the seller laughed. "He is just as certainly wrong." From a state of obvious indifference, the buyer's attention was seized. He shifted in his seat, now sitting upright as opposed to the lackadaisical posture he'd previously been utilising for the purposes of a hard sell. His natural inquisitiveness had gotten the better of him.
"Wrong?" He questioned.
"Wrong," the seller repeated. His delivery of the word was akin to a hammer striking in a nail. The buyer nodded, intrigued despite his the practiced wall that years of business experience had taught him in regards to a far-fetched proposition. Yet, something about this particular seller seemed to paint a picture of an idea that was, somehow, feasible.
"The second," the seller re-commenced in the ensuing lull that left the buyer pondering both the relevance and the truthfulness of the successive laws, raising a second finger, "claims that the only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to push its boundaries. The only way to define the edge of the possible is to achieve the impossible." The buyer nodded once again the second revelation. He felt as though he was beginning to piece together the point that the young seller was trying to make.
"And the third?" The buyer asked, now trying to feign triviality.
"The third is my personal favourite." The grin now cracked into a complete smile. The youth and playfulness of the seller permeated the not-quite-adequately-illuminated room. For the third, and crucially final, time, the seller raised a finger. Now his index, middle and ring finger stood tall. The seller didn't force them in the other man's face. He didn't do anything other than allow his fingers to accentuate his point. The buyer focused on them, only for a second. Yet, it was all the time the seller needed. He lowered his other hand, the one that had been toying with his hair. He'd also, deliberately, been in the act of toying with the buyer's mind. It was like a subtle, unnoticed stage production. The curtains had just closed on the first act of a two-part performance. Slowly blinking, the seller knew he had the full attention of the buyer. Mentally, the buyer was anxiously anticipating the final law. His natural inquisitiveness drove him to complete the three-piece puzzle. He never saw himself slide in the jaws of a slowly closing, carefully timed trap.

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." It was spoken like a death-bed confession, the 'law' laced with the irrevocable lashings of undeniable truth. The buyer knew for a fact that many of the technological marvels he'd seen in his life, if they'd occurred even ten years ago, could only be defined as magic. The seller spoke the pure, unadulterated - realistic - truth. Taking several moments to collect his thoughts after they'd wandered in the woods of insatiable curiosity, the buyer returned to his previous state of unease.
"So you're trying to sell me magic?" The question came across slightly more accusatorily than he'd intended. The seller mentally shrugged off the inadvertent verbal blow.
"No, I'm trying to sell you talent," the seller retorted. He seemed to carry the authority of a well-respected salesman now, self-marketing to a degree that was almost arrogance.
"Quite frankly," the buyer began, now off put by the seller's over-exuding confidence, "I see no talent. Simple trickery is the polar opposite of talent. It is deception. I will have no deception in my domain."
The confidence flashed from the seller's face, yet underneath the physical façade, he knew he'd played his hand perfectly. He'd captured the imagination of a curious man, and such a quarry was difficult indeed to relinquish. He curled his fingers back into a non-threatening fist, and stop calmly. With a polite tip of the trilby that the seller wore, he turned for the door.
"Where are you going?" Demanded the buyer, not quite ready to either believe or disregard this intriguing man's proposal.
"You seem to have no use for my particular skillset."
"A skillset of a deception?"
"A skillset of imagination." His feet quietly rapping on the surface of the solid oak that was the foundations for the first-floor, classical building the seller stepped across to the door that rested ajar. Slinking onto the opposite, exit side of the wooden block, the seller lightly rested the hand that had twirled his hair upon the handle. In a way, he was lucky the door was handled, not knobbed. Else the trap could not be sprung. Sprung, thought the seller, it would be. With a slight push, he edged the even more open, as if inviting himself back into the room. Eyes down at the floor, seemingly saddened, the seller nodded at the buyer once more.
"Good day, sir," he stated, with an indefinable tinge of disappointment as his hand slipped of the handle. He strode over the threshold of the room as the door, visibly unassisted, followed behind him.

[SirCannabisClock]

At 1/6/11 09:47 AM, Dr34m3r wrote::

"Please remind me, young man, exactly what you're trying to sell me." The voice almost reeked of indignation.
"Sir," began the reply, "I am trying to sell you Clarke's laws." This second voice, this salesperson's voice, was patient and seemingly rehearsed. He had, it seemed, attempted to sell the very same notions to numerous others.

Too many commas. What I mean: He, the man, was there. The man, it seemed(which by the way you could remove "it seemed" entirely), was selling something,
I would avoid stating a noun twice.- (The second voice, this salesperson's voice)

Obviously to no avail, thought the prospective buyer, the man behind the first voice, else they would not be here. He opened his mouth, prepared to make a sarcastic response, but decided against it. He caught a glimpse of determination in the other man's azure eyes, and his persistence was evidence enough that he was confident in his good or service. The buyer was not quite sure which, yet; if either.
"I can't say I've heard of these laws." The buyer apathetically slapped his hand down on the thickened mahogany desk before him.
"Allow me to enlighten you, sir?" A cheeky, encouraged grin cracked over the seller's face as he offered his explanation. Wordlessly, the buyer gestured him to speak, and nodded simultaneously. The seller was supremely confident now, knowing that his opening salvo of scant details and seemingly hollow promises had pricked at least some sense of curiosity in the other man.
"Clarke's laws are three-fold," began the seller, his voice warm and co-operative.

P. much the same as above: the commas. I do notice you also try to get a lot of wordplay in. While not necessarily bad, in my opinion I wouldn't detail every mannerism.

Calmly, he slipped a finger into his mop of blonde, unkempt hair, twirling the thin, clean strands of light gold. Raising his opposite hand, in an attempt at undisguised showmanship, he slowly uncurled his index finger.

This stood out like a sore thumb to me because it's simply something a man wouldn't do. I wouldn't even expect it from a female salesperson unless she was trying to be flirtatious.

"The first states that when an illustrious, yet aging, man of science claims something is possible, he is almost certainly right. However, it also states that when this same man of science alleges something to be impossible he is just as certainly -"
"Right. He is always right." The buyer cut in, obviously displeased with the irrelevance of this 'law'. The seller's toothless grin split, revealing cared for, glimmering teeth. The seller was well aware of this, and had in fact practiced this exact moment. His teeth had been artificially whitened in an effort to promote a sense of self-preservation and attention to detail in the seller that was not quite present.
"No," the seller laughed. "He is just as certainly wrong." From a state of obvious indifference, the buyer's attention was seized. He shifted in his seat, now sitting upright as opposed to the lackadaisical posture he'd previously been utilising for the purposes of a hard sell. His natural inquisitiveness had gotten the better of him.

so'k

"Wrong?" He questioned.

Maybe it's some sort of quirk on my behalf but I'd have replaced "questioned" with "asked".

"Wrong," the seller repeated. His delivery of the word was akin to a hammer striking in a nail.

I don't think you need a transition for your metaphor (akin to). "Wrong." the seller repeated, the word striking a nail into the coffin.

The buyer nodded, intrigued despite his the practiced wall that years of business experience had taught him in regards to a far-fetched proposition. Yet, something about this particular seller seemed to paint a picture of an idea that was, somehow, feasible.
"The second," the seller re-commenced in the ensuing lull that left the buyer pondering both the relevance and the truthfulness of the successive laws, raising a second finger,

Excessive/unnecessary detail. What I said above about every mannerism.

"claims that the only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to push its boundaries. The only way to define the edge of the possible is to achieve the impossible." The buyer nodded once again the second revelation.

wat?

He felt as though he was beginning to piece together the point that the young seller was trying to make.
"And the third?" The buyer asked, now trying to feign triviality.
"The third is my personal favourite." The grin now cracked into a complete smile. The youth and playfulness of the seller permeated the not-quite-adequately-illuminated room.

Dislike your use of "permeated." Maybe-"The youth and playfulness of the seller seemed to illuminate the poorly lit room."

[SirCannabisClock]

At 1/6/11 09:47 AM, Dr34m3r wrote: For the third, and crucially final, time, the seller raised a finger. Now his index, middle and ring finger stood tall. The seller didn't force them in the other man's face. He didn't do anything other than allow his fingers to accentuate his point.

Again, kind of excessive with the detail about his finger

The buyer focused on them, only for a second. Yet, it was all the time the seller needed. He lowered his other hand, the one that had been toying with his hair. He'd also, deliberately, been in the act of toying with the buyer's mind. It was like a subtle, unnoticed stage production. The curtains had just closed on the first act of a two-part performance. Slowly blinking, the seller knew he had the full attention of the buyer. Mentally, the buyer was anxiously anticipating the final law. His natural inquisitiveness drove him to complete the three-piece puzzle. He never saw himself slide in the jaws of a slowly closing, carefully timed trap.

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." It was spoken like a death-bed confession, the 'law' laced with the irrevocable lashings of undeniable truth. The buyer knew for a fact that many of the technological marvels he'd seen in his life, if they'd occurred even ten years ago, could only be defined as magic. The seller spoke the pure, unadulterated - realistic - truth. Taking several moments to collect his thoughts after they'd wandered in the woods of insatiable curiosity, the buyer returned to his previous state of unease.
"So you're trying to sell me magic?" The question came across slightly more accusatorily than he'd intended. The seller mentally shrugged off the inadvertent verbal blow.
"No, I'm trying to sell you talent," the seller retorted. He seemed to carry the authority of a well-respected salesman now, self-marketing to a degree that was almost arrogance.
"Quite frankly," the buyer began, now off put by the seller's over-exuding confidence, "I see no talent. Simple trickery is the polar opposite of talent. It is deception."

So'k I guess. Some excessive detail but I kinda like it.

"I will have no deception in my domain."

Dislike this sentence. "Domain" seems too prude and not realistically spoken.

The confidence flashed from the seller's face, yet underneath the physical façade, he knew he'd played his hand perfectly. He'd captured the imagination of a curious man, and such a quarry was difficult indeed to relinquish. He curled his fingers back into a non-threatening fist, and stop calmly. With a polite tip of the trilby that the seller wore, he turned for the door.
"Where are you going?" Demanded the buyer, not quite ready to either believe or disregard this intriguing man's proposal.
"You seem to have no use for my particular skillset."
"A skillset of a deception?"
"A skillset of imagination." His feet quietly rapping on the surface of the solid oak that was the foundations for the first-floor, classical building the seller stepped across to the door that rested ajar. Slinking onto the opposite, exit side of the wooden block, the seller lightly rested the hand that had twirled his hair upon the handle. In a way, he was lucky the door was handled, not knobbed. Else the trap could not be sprung. Sprung, thought the seller, it would be. With a slight push, he edged the even more open, as if inviting himself back into the room. Eyes down at the floor, seemingly saddened, the seller nodded at the buyer once more.
"Good day, sir," he stated, with an indefinable tinge of disappointment as his hand slipped of the handle. He strode over the threshold of the room as the door, visibly unassisted, followed behind him.

I do like your cliffhanger there.

Overall:
I dislike how you seem to narrate the inner thinking of both characters. I would avoid revealing anything but the inner thinking of one character if that.

There are some grammatical errors.

I think you do convo fairly well.

While a bit wordy, you seem to narrate the surroundings fairly well.

The story was interesting and written well enough for me not to have to strain to read it. That's not common in this forum.

It bothered me slightly that they were unnamed. Perhaps a short paragraph where they introduce themselves to each other.

Overall overall: p. good work bro.

[Mason]

I basically agree with the last two posts; Too many comma splices, stating nouns twice, and possibly a little too much detail to follow.

But you do a good job with your story. Kudos.

[ZeeAk]

First of all, thanks to all of you for the great feedback. I really appreciate it.

At 1/6/11 11:13 AM, SirCannabisClock wrote: Too many commas. What I mean: He, the man, was there. The man, it seemed(which by the way you could remove "it seemed" entirely), was selling something,
I would avoid stating a noun twice.- (The second voice, this salesperson's voice)
P. much the same as above: the commas.

Comma splicing is something that I do tend to do a lot, and a few people have picked it up here on Newgrounds. I am trying to make an effort to lessen the frequency of my commas, but I still find them useful in certain places. Too many periods breaks up the flow, I think, but I can completely understand what you're saying.

I do notice you also try to get a lot of wordplay in. While not necessarily bad, in my opinion I wouldn't detail every mannerism.
Excessive/unnecessary detail. What I said above about every mannerism.
Again, kind of excessive with the detail about his finger.
So'k I guess. Some excessive detail but I kinda like it.

Fair call. Like I said before, I'm trying to establish a trap, and it's my own fault I didn't include the aftermath in the story. But it really all boils down to whether or not I successfully implement what I've been trying to build up to.

This stood out like a sore thumb to me because it's simply something a man wouldn't do. I wouldn't even expect it from a female salesperson unless she was trying to be flirtatious.

Without trying to give too much away, the use of the fingers is part of the trap that gets mentioned later on. I didn't really detail exactly what that trap was, and that's my failing, but given that it doesn't seem to actually help the story as is, I'll alter it and see if it works better later down the track.

Maybe it's some sort of quirk on my behalf but I'd have replaced "questioned" with "asked".

Understandable, but I'm trying to convey the fact that the buyer think he's being disrespectful. He's not simply asking; he's almost accusing him.

I don't think you need a transition for your metaphor (akin to). "Wrong." the seller repeated, the word striking a nail into the coffin.

That's definitely an improvement to what I've got, thanks.

Dislike your use of "permeated." Maybe-"The youth and playfulness of the seller seemed to illuminate the poorly lit room."

Yea, I did misuse permeated there. Thanks for the help.

Dislike this sentence. "Domain" seems too prude and not realistically spoken.

Fair enough. I wasn't entirely sure what other word to replace it with, but I understand your qualm.

I do like your cliffhanger there.

Thanks. I spent a while pondering exactly how to pull it off, but even in the end I wasn't sure it worked.

Overall:
I dislike how you seem to narrate the inner thinking of both characters. I would avoid revealing anything but the inner thinking of one character if that.

Definitely understandable. In your opinion, would you rather understand the seller or the buyer more? Personally, I'd opt for the seller, but that might just be a bit of misplaced pride on my part.

There are some grammatical errors.

I've since had a friend proof-read this, and we've ironed out a few of the errors, so hopefully we've addressed all the ones you've found.

I think you do convo fairly well.

This has been something that I've been trying very hard to achieve. So it's really cool to hear that.

While a bit wordy, you seem to narrate the surroundings fairly well.

I tried to avoid over-explanation while also creating an atmosphere, and it seems to have worked. So thanks.

The story was interesting and written well enough for me not to have to strain to read it. That's not common in this forum.

I understand the feeling, and it's really encouraging to hear that.

It bothered me slightly that they were unnamed. Perhaps a short paragraph where they introduce themselves to each other.

I wasn't sure if that'd put people off, so thankfully it wasn't too overbearing. I get your point though, and naming them probably would have been a bit more fluid.

Overall overall: p. good work bro.

Thanks heaps, man. Your feedback is absolutely awesome.

At 1/6/11 03:02 PM, Mason wrote: I basically agree with the last two posts; Too many comma splices, stating nouns twice, and possibly a little too much detail to follow.

I've addressed them all above, but thanks again.

But you do a good job with your story. Kudos.

[ZeeAk]

"James, how'd it go?" The source of the voice, just as young and spirited as the seller, seemed to materialise out of the woodwork outside the office. James - the seller - had a grin that would have been impossible to eradicate. It was a smile that the new man thought he could have taken to the bank and cashed for the money that the expression seemed to guarantee.
"I caught him!" The words exploded from his mouth, as if simple lips could not contain the ecstasy. "Hook, line and sinker."
"He fell for it?" Excitement rose through the other man's throat.
"He didn't fall for it," James corrected, "He accepted it. We're only selling things that are actually possible, Mark." The second man, Mark, felt a smile similar in magnitude to Jack's spread across his own face.
"What'd you do to make him fall for it?" The curiosity in Mark's voice was intermingled with undeniable excitement.
"I played the classic hand."
"Good ol' Clarkey?"
James nodded, lifting a passively fisted hand, and kissed two of his knuckles. Mark was slightly concerned at the oddity his friend had just performed.
"You feeling lonely, James?" Mark joked, the smile lingering. He'd given no thought, conscious or otherwise, to the cheeky, satisfied grin leaving his young face. It helped accentuate his playfulness to passers-by. He and James seemed to be beacons of hope among the fractured, disillusioned society they begrudgingly lived in.
"I sure am," James chuckled, understanding his friend's worry. "This hand," he continued, raising the fist he'd just kissed, "won us the deal." Mark's face lit up as he grabbed his friend's list, planting his own lips on the same fingers James had used to 'magically' close the door by itself.
"That's a little weird," James teased, before both of the men burst into laughter. For the first time, they both realised that their energized, spirited legs had begun carrying them away from the office, in no certain direction. They were just walking aimlessly, wanting fully to absorb the brilliance of the moment that they knew would change their lives. Breathing to allow expelled air back into his lungs, Mark rested a hand on James' shoulder.
"You still haven't told me how you did it. I want to know how two young Australian boys can capture the imagination - and wallet - of a big, scary British business owner," Mark stated. He was deathly eager to discover the no doubt devious hand James had played.
"He wasn't that scary, or that big."
"Just tell me!"
"I just did the hair trick," James stated, matter-of-factly. There was no trickery in his voice. Mark stopped, stunned. Jack kept walking, not aware of his friend's sudden stop. Mark refused to believe that it could have been that easy. The hair trick was too simple, too damn basic, for him to believe that it had worked flawlessly.
"Wait!" He called out to his meandering friend. James spun, his cheeks reddened from the sudden realisation that he'd left his friend, now soon to be business partner, behind.
"You seriously used the hair trick?" Mark continued, still dumbfounded.
"Not a word of a lie."
"It's too easy!" The declaration sounded angry.

Mark had spent countless days devoting his life to elaborate tricks that he and James could use to attract potential investors. He'd created a device that could send an electrical pulse through a piece of fabric to create a rigid shape. The machine had worked perfectly in several of his meetings with possible buyers. He'd simply slipped the piece of fabric inside his sleeve, covered by both his suit jacket and his impeccably pressed suit. When the time arose for its 'assistance', all he had to do was let gravity slide the material down into his hand, and a tiny diode would energize the fabric. He would face the potentials, empty-handed, and offer his goodbyes. All eyes in the room would be focused upon him, trying to decipher the man they'd just interviewed. At this point, he'd utilise the device's capabilities, shaping the fabric into a professional hat as he departed. His final motion out of the room would be followed by appreciative silence, as he placed the new piece of attire upon his head. Yet, none had bought into his proposition. No doubt many believed him simply to be a travelling merchant, trying to sell the ability to hide pieces of clothing on a person's body. They were not entirely wrong about his product, but their comprehension of his intent was far from the truth.

"Tell him that. It worked," James shrugged. "That's really all we need to worry about."
"After everything I made, everything I pioneered, he fell for the hair tr- Wait." He suddenly paused, becoming sceptical of a lack of paperwork. James noticed the sudden cessation in his friend's speech, and knew he'd caught on.
"Do you actually have the contract, James?"
In an attempt at subtlety, James spun slightly away from his friend, shaking his head solemnly. A heavy sigh accompanied the shallow effort at disappointment.
"So it didn't actually work yet? You're just crossing your fingers and hoping for the best?" The smile was well and truly gone from Mark's face, now.
"He fell for it, Mark. I know he did."
"Did you see his face?" The words formed less of a question than an accusation of negligence.
"If I'd looked back, the ruse would have been ruined."
"James, it didn't work!"
"It worked!"
"Remember last time?" Mark stepped right up against James, in an effort to instil a sense of authentic failure and fear into the heart of his friend. James shoved him back, Mark nearly losing his footing on the busy streets. Almost stepping onto the bitumen road, he threw himself forward again in an effort to avoid inadvertently colliding with traffic.

"Of course I remember last time!" James knew he'd never forget; the situation had been similar. Mark's hat trick had worked. He'd begun to step away from the meeting, with his hands facing the man across the desk in an act of feign surrender. They were quite obviously empty, despite being gloved. As he'd turned to leave, he'd lowered one hand and sent the pulse of energy through the fabric. It instantly became solid, and he placed it gingerly atop his head. They'd chosen a hat simply because it was immediately noticeable to anyone who'd bothered to pay close attention to the man they were interviewing - any businessman worth their salt, they'd both concluded. As James' hand had touched on the door's latch, the other man had called him back. He'd asked James to explain to him the trick. In an effort to be polite, yet retain his friend's secrets, James had carefully declined. Yet he remembered the next words with almost painful clarity:
"Explain to me that trick, and I'll buy your act."

[ZeeAk]

Eagerness had burst through James, as he fought bitterly hard with his body and mind to maintain composure, even as he sat. He'd felt reluctant, he remembered. James had sat in the same chair he'd previously been occupying, where'd he gone over both Clarke's laws and his own proposal. He'd explained to the man that the device was deceptively simple. A tiny wire fed from the user's wrist, sitting on the nerve cluster, to the inside of the user's hand. A second piece of copper wire - uncomfortable, but necessary - reached up the user's middle finger. To utilise the device, all the user had to do was to be alive; the electricity needed to power the device was minimal, and built up during the user's regular heartbeats. Tiny electrical pulses channel through a human's veins, James had explained, and these pulses were diverted through the copper wire. He'd also explained that prolonged exposure could lead to loss of motor function in the hand, so the small device was removed when it was no longer necessary. Once enough energy was stored in the device, all the user had to do was press their middle finger against the tiny ball in their palm. The electricity would shoot through the copper wire and into the fabric.
The buyer had leaned back in his chair, visibly impressed. James recalled the situation with perfect clarity. He'd smiled, and informed James three weeks would be needed to draft the contract that would see he and Mark become 'exuberantly wealthy.' James had easily identified the exaggeration in the proposition, but he and Mark had worked themselves to the bone - literally, at one point - to reach this point. James had smiled, supremely confident as he left the meeting.

"He took the idea and ran, remember?"
"Of course I do, Mark! I'm not keen to forget it, either."
"You bloody well shouldn't be. You cost us millions. What I created was essentially an infinite storage space, and you gave him the specifications and now he's patented and capitalised on it."
"When the patent wears off in twenty years, I'm sure you'll be able t-"
"No jokes, James." Mark was deadly serious. Each word was dripping with the anger, both new and old, of what he deemed to be James' incompetence.
"He'll have bought it, Mark. I promise."
"He better damn well have."

P.S. Forgive my science. It may or may not be wrong, but I'd rather tell a compelling story than a 100% factually accurate one.