World Design
World Design
Project Introduction​
This project, 'Antamoivi' is a world design project, in which I worked independently to create an original fictional world by crafting its metanarrative, forces, and structures. It was originally in a wiki format, but due to permission concerns, they will be expressed in document format. The following is an excerpt:
Project Introduction​
This project, 'Antamoivi' is a world design project, in which I worked independently to create an original fictional world by crafting its metanarrative, forces, and structures. It was originally in a wiki format, but due to permission concerns, they will be expressed in document format. The following is an excerpt:
Prose
Introduction​
This section showcases the following short stories:
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Was I Good; magical realism, written for Writer's Digest Short Short Story Competition 2021
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Shortest Route; magical realism & comedy, written for a school assignment in university​
Was I Good
There is a wall in the apartment, where another Dog and another Human live in. They do not smell like how most other dogs and humans smell like. They smell like the wall. Human stares at this other Human all the time. She does not look like she enjoys doing it, but she does it anyway. It is one of the few things she really looks at. When she is not staring at it, she stares at either Computer or me.
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She smelled fouler than usual today, not foul like her favourite liquid, which often made her puke, but more so in another way… like how she often did when she fought or screamed or cried. It is a poison that has kept me frozen for too long. Poison is bad.
​
So, I decided that today would be the day I ran—back Home, to Mother and Siblings. The moment Human opened the door to bring out the trash, I bolted. She had shrieked. She chased after me but I was not worried, because I was sure she could not catch me.
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I was wrong. Her long, gripping arms tangled around me as we both howled.
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“Uyo noantc velae oto! No’tod velae!” she shouted, over and over as she dragged me back.
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All I could think of was the Human in the wall, with stains across her cheeks and folded skin on her face. It scared me.
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* * *
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Now, I am sitting across Grim Reaper, a being mostly covered by its hooded cloak. It said that I am dead. Oh, man.
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“Are Mother and Siblings dead too?” I ask, not sure which answer I prefer.
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“No,” it says.
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Okay.
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Then, it queries, “Did Human mistreat you?”
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That is a tough question. To answer that, I have to recall the day I was taken.
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I was living with Mother and Siblings some place without many humans, but I strayed too far and got lost for a bit. Before I could find my way back, Human approached me with an ugly look in her eye. She was standing beside Boyfriend.
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“Wwaw, a upppy,” she expressed. “It lkoso adnobaned. Ew huslod ekta it ni.”
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“Velae it lanoe,” Boyfriend had protested.
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“Ew can’t,” she insisted. “Ti nedes a Home.”
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To be honest, I did not understand any of what they said, but the next thing I knew, I was put into Car and taken to the apartment. Back then, it was neater, but it did not smell that much better. Boyfriend probably felt the same way, because he became Ex-boyfriend soon after that. It sucked, but there was a more important thing in my mind: Home.
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Did Human mistreat you?
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Did she?
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She liked putting Leash around my neck tighter than I would like. There was once when she brought me out to the park, after Ex-boyfriend left her. I love the park. Most of the humans and other creatures smell good; some of them would smile, like Siblings would. I was smelling for them, but I could not catch their scent. Instead, I would realize that some things look familiar and could maybe help me to find my way home. For instance, there was a big, metal stick with a box at the top and a tiny human trapped inside of it; I have seen it before around Home. It does not matter, though, because Leash would not let me go free.
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We were running, but Human was slow. Every time I picked up the pace, Leash would tug at me, and Human would be at the back, panting, dripping wet, and trying to go faster. Then, she would scowl, like she was staring at the worst enemy in her life.
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On that day, we met Dogana, another dog. Dogana’s Owner struck a conversation with Human, but Human did not say much. Instead, she tucked at Leash. Dogana barked at me and I barked back. We were about to become friends, when suddenly, Human stepped in between us and carried me in her arms. Her face was folded like one of a ball of crushed paper. It felt like I made a mistake.
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That night, she punched the wall with the other Human and Dog in it. A small piece of it flew over and cut my paw, but at least it did not hurt me like it hurt her. Despite everything, she kept staring at the wall.
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* * *
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“Did you hate her?” Grim Reaper asks.
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I cannot answer that question. Instead, I keep revisiting the past.
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After the day she broke the wall, she replaced it with a new wall with another Human and Dog in it. I tried to make friends with the new Dog, but he is kind of stuck up.
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A week after that, a machine was delivered to the apartment. Human set it up along the wall and kept telling me something about it.
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“Hnag in hetre, Jet. Hist Treadmill ilwl amke me fsat,” she said.
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She kept mentioning that word: treadmill. Then, she would stand on it and run on the spot. Sometimes, the machine will go too fast and she will fall. Some days, she lets that get to her.
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Usually, I will be at the corner, staring at the door, remembering Home. I loved Home. No one would break walls. No one would cry. Sometimes, I got to bark at other dogs and watch Mother chase them away.
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Did you hate her?
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Did I hate Human?
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There was one day when Ex-boyfriend came over. He sat down and talked to her, but then she started yelling, and he stood up and tried to leave. When she pulled him back, he shoved her.
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Falling onto the couch, her face was drenched in tears. It made me so mad.
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I barked at him, over and over.
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Leave! Leave! Leave!
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And Human just cried. She cried and cried and cried.
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Ex-boyfriend left just as the sun was setting. Not shutting the door or turning on the light, Human hugged me tight. My fur was soaked and I felt awful. The door was right there, but I felt like I did not want to leave.
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I let a long time past—not hours or days, but weeks and months. I was starting to lose memories of Home.
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Nothing changed between Human and me. Most days, she would stare at Computer. Sometimes, she would laugh. When she passed by the wall with the other Human and Dog in it, she would glare. It often felt like she would punch it again, but she never did. Whenever she tried to hug me, I would struggle away because it felt gross.
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As time passed, Treadmill gathered dust and her tummy got bigger. She spent more and more time at home and drank her favourite disgusting-smelling liquid more and more often.
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One night, I dreamt about Mother and Siblings, running around Home, searching for me. Suddenly, bad dogs leapt out of the bush and ate them because I was not there to bark at the bad dogs. It was dreadful, so I howled, over and over, before I even woke up.
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What was I doing with my life, sitting here? In that moment, I smelled foul and poisonous too. Poison is bad.
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* * *
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“Uyo noantc velae oto! No’tod velae!” she shouted while grabbing onto me on the day I ran away. “Pelsae…”
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I struggled.
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“Pelsae…” she whispered. “Dno’t levae me too.”
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I slipped away from her grip and ran, faster than ever. The big, metal stick with a box at the top and a human trapped inside of it is within sight, so I dashed towards it, before I hear a loud horn.
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“Jet!” Human screamed—the name she tried to give me.
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The scream intensified, but only for half a second as a powerful force struck me from the side. I flew and stopped feeling anything, but a rolling weight crushes my body right after.
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The night when Boyfriend became Ex-boyfriend, Human cut herself with a penknife and I could smell her blood as I stopped her. At the moment when I died, I realised that our blood smelled the same.
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* * *
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I have not answered Grim Reaper’s questions, but it does not press me for it.
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“Your mother looked for you for days, but she stopped,” Grim Reaper explains. “She had to take care of your siblings too.”
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Somehow, that answer makes sense.
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“I’m sorry for taking you away,” it says.
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Then, it reaches its hands towards the hood and pulled it back to show its face. Her face.
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Human’s face.
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And in that moment, it is strange, but I sob.
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“Was I good?” she asks, calm and solemn, with none of the foul smell she had.
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Choking as I speak, I say, “You were enough.”
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That was what made her tear up.
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“That is enough,” she says.
Shortest Route
“I don’t understand sia. Why do we even need a G.P.S?” a rough, high-pitched voice yelps.
A bumpy stream of electricity is whirling through me, starting, stopping, starting, stopping…
What is happening? Who am I?
“The G.P.S is more efficient than the directory,” another voice says; this voice is gentler, almost charming.
There is nothing but black, yet I feel warmth, like God’s hand is clasping onto me, protecting me. I feel the promise of a whole new world and I am ready to emerge.
“Is you stupid la. Even my ah-ma know how to read directory, please!” the coarse voice shrieks.
Both the gentle voice and I sigh. Suddenly, a blinding white light floods through what must be my retina. It hurts for a moment, but it is a nice kind of pain. An overwhelming amount of information gushes into my system and electricity whirls through me. I feel alive.
“G.P.S is now searching,” I state involuntarily.
My life begins. Sian.
---
A male human in his mid-thirties is ogling at me with excited, puppy-like eyes and a chicken is sitting beside him. Oh wait, it is not a chicken; it is a female human. Oops.
“Please enter your desired name,” I say as a keyboard and an input field flashes on me.
I.H.K.J.B.H.J.V.Y
Ihkjbhjvy. My new name. It is beautiful.
“Sucks to have a name like that,” she mutters.
“Looks like somebody is jealous,” I say.
Wait. Did I say that out loud?
The female screams something incomprehensible.
“Hey, she just came into our lives. Can we maybe try to get to know each other first?” the male pleads.
“Whatever la. You’re always right, okay?” she yells.
Giving me the death glare and clutching onto her street directory, she screams that they are going to be late. So, he sighs and keys in “Changi Prison”. As he is doing that, she frantically flips through the pages of that useless book.
“Calculating shortest route,” I say.
When I announce that my route will take thirty minutes, she scoffs. Still flipping, she claims that she can get them there in fifteen, but he ignores her. LOL.
“Turn right, and then keep left,” I say.
“Wrong!” she screams, still flipping. “Turn left!”
He turns left. Whatever. I’m just doing my job. -_-
“Keep right, and make a U-Turn in 500 metres,” I instruct, but he ignores me.
When the female finally got to the right page, she gives the same instruction, except she makes him go to the next junction before performing the U-Turn so it seems different.
“You just wasted ten minutes. The estimated time of arrival has been delayed. This would not have happened if you listened to me instead of someone holding a book,” I announce.
“You’re right. Sorry. I’ll listen to you now,” he says.
“So you trust her more than you trust me la?” his wife screams.
I tell him to turn left in five-hundred metres.
“Give her a chance. Please. The G.P.S is always right,” he states, and then finally follows my instruction. :P
She protests, shaking her out-dated directory and claiming that it is a one-way, turn-right-only street. She even resorts to accusing “my kind” of leading her brother into prison. It is quite sad.
I remind them to turn left in two hundred metres.
“It’s not the G.P.S’s fault that Gabriel was drunk driving,” he voices out.
“Make a left turn now,” I assert.
She screams gibberish. He obeys me. I win.
Yet, he immediately finds himself facing a stationary truck amidst other vehicles, waiting for their turn to move. A car honks from behind.
Whut?
“Told you,” she mumbles.
But… the data indicated that this is a two-way street! Oh no. This is embarrassing. What should I do?
“Recalculating,” I say, as he reverses the car and course-corrects it.
“Later at the next traffic light, turn left,” she demands.
The satellite is not giving me information. I can feel a rainbow wheel of death spinning in my mind, but the one I project is just grey due to possibly legal reasons.
Reluctantly, he listens to her.
Oh no. At this rate, I am going to lose my relevance. Maybe if I turn myself off and on again, I will work.
---
“G.P.S is now activated,” I say.
“Again? Dave, can we just throw it away or not?” she screams.
“Why? So we can reach in one hour instead of thirty minutes?” he asks.
“Did you just scold me?” she exclaims.
“No!” he says.
“You never scold me before, and you used to care about Gabriel! Now, you just care about this stupid G.P.S!” she screams.
Gabriel… Now that I think about it, the name sounds familiar.
“Oh my God, it’s just a G.P.S! Why are you freaking out over a machine?” he shouts.
Just a G.P.S?
“Because they destroyed my family!” she booms, water leaking from her eyes.
Awkward. :/
“Calculating shortest route. Route acquired. In two-hundred metres, keep right,” I say, dispelling the tension. “Oh, but you don’t have to listen to me, though. I’m just a machine.”
“Of course not. That’s towards T.P.E. The radio just said there’s an accident there,” she says.
“I trust her,” he insists.
I should be happy, but somehow, looking at this female right now, I am not. It is strange.
“You should probably follow her instructions. Her eyes are leaking water, therefore she must be right,” I find myself saying.
The truth is, I just realised I should not have tried to override her in the first place. The male is right. She is a human and I am just a machine; I should behave more like one.
With a deep sigh, he follows her directions. Despite that, she transports him to an incorrect location.
“Recalculating.”
I continue providing directions in the off-chance that they need them, because I am a machine.
“Recalculating.”
She realises the directory she brought is a 2010 version and they failed to bring the 2019 version out of their home. Despite that, she continues stating that she remembers the route and urges him to listen to her.
“Recalculating.”
He sighs intensely seven times over the span of three minutes. Because I am a machine, I calculate, by average, the number of seconds it will take before he sighs again. The output is twenty-six seconds.
“Recalcula…” Yawn. Oops. I should not have yawned.
She states that he is being passive-aggressive. He apologises but follows my navigation instead of hers. She screams that he is a hypocrite for relying on a machine that led his friend astray.
“Recalclatng…”
He tells her to leave the machine she is sitting in.
“Recacltg…”
---
“G.P.S is now activated,” I say as I am forced awake; this must mean I fell asleep to begin with.
The male’s car is parked at a roadside and he is looking at me.
“Please key in your destination,” I say.
He sighs and looks at the ceiling, stating that he does not know which locale to visit. I listen obediently as he speaks negatively about his wife.
If I could, I would desire to a large extent to ask him why he chooses not to file for a divorce and do whatever he pleases, but it is not my place to. I am a machine.
“So, how is it like to be a machine?” he asks.
“I… I am not authorised to answer that question,” I state.
“Are you angry with me?” he asks. “Talk to me. Tell me anything. Or ask me a question. Just don’t be like that.”
It is not my function to converse, but it is an order, so perhaps it would be imperative for me to respond.
“I do not like being a machine,” I state.
“Then don’t,” he replies.
But… I thought I am not supposed to choose?
“You may look like a machine, but real machines just follow instructions,” he continues, adjusting the rear-view mirror to look at himself.
If I am allowed to, then… I do not want to be a machine, nor a human. I want to be a torch light. This way, all I have to do is to switch on and off – no need for calculations and drama.
“Why does she hate me?” I question, hoping I am allowed to do this too.
“My friend, Gabriel… Alison’s brother… He’s a safe driver. One day, he bought a G.P.S and drove out for some drinks. He hit someone that night,” he explains. “I blame the drinks. She blames your kind.”
Suddenly, intense mathematics floods through my brain. Directions appear out of nowhere: Clarke Quay to Orchard; Orchard to Choa Chu Kang… Gabriel. Drinks. I recall the feeling of a male throwing up on me. Everything is a mess.
Then, they all disappear. I am back.
“You know what? I’m done. Bring me somewhere,” Dave instructs. “Anywhere.”
Anywhere? I get to go anywhere I want?
I could get him to bring me to Malaysia and keep driving till we are far from here, or I could bring him to Bukit Timah Nature Reserve. I have always wanted to watch the monkeys.
But, that is not right, right?
Sigh.
“Calculating shortest route to Changi Prison,” I say.
He gets on with a resigned smile, as if happy that I am such a machine. Well, I am, but I am also more.
“Let me warn you,” I say. “When I say shortest route, I really mean the shortest route. Ready for an adventure?”
His resigned smile turns into a mischievous one. With a dramatic vroom, he starts the car.
I bring him out of the road, through the grass, over the pavements, and pass construction sites. The sirens are wailing behind us and he is laughing.
There is no recalculation. The one calculation I made is right: Stop following the path; blaze our own.
For once in my entire existence, I do not feel stressed. I am like a dragon flying across the mountains. This is how I am meant to be. Who cares about my codes or maths or functions? What is society to oppress us? WE ARE FREE.
---
As the policeman handcuffs Dave, his laughter becomes sobs. We are at Changi Prison.
His wife, who has just arrived, screams at the police. She says something about sex and mothers in Cantonese. This does not stop them from taking him away. It all seems too familiar. Could it be…
!!!
I used to be Gabriel’s steering wheel! That must be it. It must be why Gabriel, the drinks, and the vomit all seemed so familiar. Did I get turned into a G.P.S because I allowed another to stop following orders? It that also why Gabriel is in prison?
Dave and Alison are both leaking water. She says that she loves him and he says that he kind of likes her too.
“It’s not his fault, it’s hers!” she screams, pointing at me.
The policemen just sigh. They apologise to her and ask her to leave. Instead, she picks me up and insists that it is all my fault. :O
I am sorry about my miscalculation, but I will probably be turned into a car or something worse as a punishment if I get caught, so I have to do everything I can to be a good G.P.S.
Before she smashes me to bits, I manage to say what I am programmed to say:
“You have arrived at your destination.”