Worldbuilding Intensive 2020 - #1

by: Catherine Sorrentino

Writing, like any art, is often a tool of protest and social activism. Speculative fiction and plays allow for creative writing to challenge, rather than uphold, our current circumstances. In a recent Worldbuilding Intensive hosted by author Jelani Wilson and PYP teaching artist Mr Stine, young writers were given the opportunity to imagine fantastical and futuristic worlds to examine our present.

We start with the work of student Sarah Weill-Jones, who explains her inspiration below.

"My motivation for writing this piece was to explore the life of someone who seems perfect. To make things more interesting, I wanted to explore this through the lens of a tyrannical, dystopian government posing as a utopia. I also wanted to write something that explores themes of how our current society idealizes people. Everyone, including myself, thinks of celebrities as people with amazing, ideal lives. In reality, no matter how flawless someone may seem, they may be struggling with something internally. We try to convey the image of perfection to others, though nobody is perfect."

Writing below by Sarah Weill-Jones   (CLICK READ MORE ----->)

The room began to lighten as sunlight seeped in through the window. It illuminated a silvery pod in the center of the room, drifting over the digital screen that covered it. It continued to dance about the space, gliding over the large screen on the wall which displayed fluorescent images. The room was barren besides the large screen, a charging station, and a sleep pod, though there was more than what met the eye.

Suddenly, the screen of the pod fizzled out, a young woman sitting up abruptly. She looked down, assessing her surroundings, and watched as the man next to her continued to sleep soundly. Cautiously, the woman steadied herself, lowering herself onto the sleek metal floors, her robe cascading past her ankles and lightly greeting it. Slowly, she made her way to an empty wall, and placed her robotic hand against the cool, iron walls. The wall slid to the right, creating a path for the woman to walk through. She advanced, the wall sliding back into its place behind her. 

The room she entered was one with hard marble floors and copper walls; sensing a presence, small spheres of light began to illuminate the living space. A sleek, polar bear fur, living set stood in the center of the room, surrounded by nothing but round copper shelves along the walls, and a glass ten foot by ten foot television hanging from the ceiling; in front of it a plush rug cushioned the feet of anyone sitting on the couch. The room was circular, with the walls facing the city only glass. If one weren’t careful they could walk to the glass and think they were about to fall into the bustling center of Carod. The woman assessed her barren surroundings, and steadily walked to the couch.

“Duchess Beatrice”   

​A voice echoed throughout the tall living room. Beatrice continued to walk to the couch, her bright yellow eyes sweeping the room. A piece of wall near the television slid back, as something darted to the duchess. It was a small bot made of pure amber, with a round, short body, wheels beneath it, and a dome head. The head’s screen displayed a pair of yellow eyes in a state of excitement, and its cylindrical arms swayed at its side. It whirred to Beatrice, watching as she sat herself in a large armchair. 

“Good morning Axis.”

Beatrice smiled, glancing at Axis as he whirred around her seat, and began to braid her floor-length, black hair.
    
“Are you excited for today Duchess? It’s a big day isn’t it?”
    
“Of course Axis.” She replied, targeting her attention to the glass television.
    
“Venrow?” The screen began to glow, and a monotone voice echoed through the room.
    
“How may I help you Duchess?”
    
“Please turn on channel 5TH7.”
    
The television dimmed and brightened to reveal morning shots of the kingdom. Shots of the castle being illuminated graced the scene, and anyone watching could not help but admire the tall, sleek, metal wonder. The screen switched to show shots of the city apartments and official buildings, and in doing so, Axis tightened Beatrice’s hair.
    
“The drone should be here in about forty-five seconds. Please stand at your window.” Axis instructed Beatrice. Beatrice sighed, already used to the routine. Without hesitation she got up swiftly from the chair, and stood by the window, her braid trailing on the ground behind her. A stoic, tired, face suddenly revealed dimples as the Duchess smiled, preparing to be seen by the 14 million people of Carod. 
    
A small black orb drifted from the sky and ended up positioned outside of the window, fully focused on the Duchess. She glanced, looking back at the television as she saw herself smiling and waving. In an instant, the camera had gone and she had already completed her first task of the day.
    
“Well done Duchess! You have definitely brightened the morning of many with that beautiful smile! Would you like some breakfast before we ready you?”
    
“Yes, thank you Axis.” The smile began to drop from her face, replaced by the droop of insomnia, aging her many more years.
    
She walked to the wall left of the television, sliding it back to reveal onyx counters and appliances, swooping across a large space. Her feet tapped against the tile as she seated herself at the breakfast bar, sinking into a zebra-fur bar stool. The pitch-black kitchen began to be lightened by panels at the ceiling, casting a light down on her. Promptly, a small bot made of pure onyx left its wall-dock next to the refrigerator. It buzzed, sliding around the counter to look at Beatrice.
    
“What will we be having today?” The robot jubilantly chirped, its low voice bellowing through the kitchen.
  
 “A fried egg should be sufficient, Malvene.” Beatrice responded, her face brightening slightly. With that, Malvene began to move about. Beatrice could hear the crack of egg, the whirring of a beater, the sizzle of it on a large cast-iron skillet. Soon, a savory aroma filled her nostrils, and all thoughts of the day’s work diminished entirely. She was comfortable, ready to have a simple meal as anyone else in the city would.
    
Malvene turned around, placing a coal-plate in front of her. He then picked up a large cast-iron skillet, and slowly, a fried ostrich-egg sat comfortably in front of the duchess. Beatrice reconsidered whether her breakfast truly was ordinary, but this did not stop her from tucking in. A fork and knife tore into the egg-white as the yellow yolk dribbled out. The gelatinous combination of yolk and white sat firmly and securely on the fork, easily sliding into Beatrice’s mouth. She could taste the salt, pepper, and cayenne, rolling the small bursts of flavor across her tongue. As she enjoyed her meal, Malvene quietly tucked himself at his docking station, prepared for whatever his guest may ask him to cook.
    
After about twenty minutes, all that remained on the plate were smears of yolk and particles of pepper. Beatrice firmly pressed on the counter below the plate, and the plate and silverware sank instantly, the counter popping back into place within a matter of seconds. As if he knew that Beatrice was done with her meal, Axis briskly entered, tearing the Duchess from the kitchen and back to her bedroom. She drowsily followed, rubbing her eyes as the little robot led her to the preparation room. Her eyes glazed over, and she looked at her feet as she continued to step forward when-.
    
“Good morning dearest.” An earthy voice vibrated from the person she had just walked into. She stepped back, smiling. Her husband was awake.
    
“You slept very well, Zaqary. I had to do the morning greeting myself!” She teased, grabbing his hand and gripping his fingers. He smiled down at her, using his other hand to push back a shaggy, black, mass of hair. 
  
 “I did, didn’t I, my apologies. And it’s Zaq, only my mother calls me Zaqary.” He smirked, rubbing Beatrice’s silver and amber hand against his brass and peridot hand. 
    
“I have to go now, but I’m sure you will look stunning, as usual.” He smiled and they locked eyes, his robotic green eyes zooming into her sunlight-yellow. Zaq let go of her hand, allowing Axis to guide her to a wall near the sleeping pod. Once it slid back, they stepped into a marble and rose-gold spa room, filled with a lavender-honey steam that could relax even the most stressed general. Large pools illuminated by floating candles stood in the room’s center, and if one flew an aerial drone over the room and into the dome of glass, you could see that the pools created the shape of a flower. Rosy pipes ran along the walls, stopping at the wall entirely made of mirrors. Near the door, a petite swan sink sat, readily available as the facilities sat behind a wall of marble parallel to it. Hooks on the wall’s back hung silk, mint, robes.
    
Daintily, she brought her hair over her shoulder as she disrobed, allowing Axis to delicately unbraid her locks. She approached one of the petal-shaped pools, and watched as the water bubbled, steam rolling off of it’s surface. A single toe dipped beneath the water, followed by the duchess as she lowered herself under the foamy water. Axis whirred away as a marble bot replaced him, massaging soaps and oils into Beatrice’s hair, moisturizing her scalp. She closed her eyes as the bot picked up her hands, massaging and manicuring them. The bot moved to her feet, carefully taking them out of the water, and using creams and lotions to make them as soft as possible. She glanced at her nails, admiring the mauve color they had been painted. Her gaze wandered to the dome ceiling, and she watched as powder-pink poufs droned above her.
    
She was finished, and the bot helped her out of the pool, providing her with a silk robe. They walked in tandem to the mirrors, her not even recognizing the robot’s presence, only when necessary. A satin, golden, trumpet dress with cap-sleeves was brought to the duchess. She gazed at the cut-outs at the stomach, smiling at the knowledge that she would be able to show off her cyborg middle. The bot helped her into the dress, smoothing down edges and zipping her up. Beatrice looked into the mirror, admiring the dress’s amber color, and how it perfectly matched her own amber accents in her metal. Pieces of hair began to lift off of her shoulders, leaving it half up and half down, the upwards part braided extremely intricately. Beatrice winced as amber string was sewn through pieces of hair, making it look as though her hair were made of pieces of sun. 
    
​The bot was finished, and rolled away as the Duchess admired herself in the mirror. She was glowing, her outfit moving with her. Her arm and middle reflected the light of the room. Beatrice was Carod’s image of perfection. The Duchess smirked, sliding her feet into glass slippers. Beatrice looked into the mirror again, reminding herself that she did not always look this way. That she too, like many of the other citizens of Carod, once did not hold power. She was just one of the lucky ones.