Would you read a book if this was the first chapter??

[William MacKay]

Hey everyone, I've embarked upon an odyssey and started to write a book. Below is the first chapter of said book, and I would love to get some people opinions and comments on it. So witout further ado:


I let the tides pull me along, direction and destination mattered not. Each change in direction is accompanied by new sensual stimuli; sights, smells, and tastes even. The constant flux of my surroundings serves to distract my mind from things that don?t bare thinking about. The gentle currents of the crowd worked to counteract the roiling torrents within a mind that was in disarray and turmoil. My mind. The packed streets of the under-city always serve as a distraction from the monsters that lurk within my soul. What with the host of services on offer - both legal and illegal - one could lose themselves.

The steady beat my feet have been drumming out upon the pavement for the last few hours ceases. My features are thrown into sharp contrast by the blood red neon streaming out of the shop window. I tilt my head towards it slightly. Not a shop, a pleasure den.

The young women in the window are flaunting their flesh, writhing around in hedonistic dances as they try to tempt me inside. The alluring smiles they all wear don't extend to their dead eyes. What joy they ever found in this - if they ever found joy - has been long since destroyed, replaced by indifference and pain. Not even the airborne smog of engineered pheromones and perfumes that hang around this place could tempt me inside after meeting a gaze like that.

Besides, it's not the girls I'm interested in, although I do a good job pretending that's the case.

In the reflection on the plexi-glass I see my tail. As much as I want them to, even the distracting thoughts and emotions I?ve been trying to manufacture during this trip can't block the training. It's hardwired, always running in the background.

The legions of distractions my wanderings here provide only force it back, they stop short of blocking it completely although it comes close. As close as anything can without befouling my mind at least. In case you were curious, Darsana leaf does the best job if you want to chemically dull your brain to the real world. That's beside the point though. Even pushed so far back, the training still manages to highlight this man for me.

He has been following me since the moment I stumbled out of my hab block. He's good, obviously trained. Not just some rat scoping me out. He stays in the sweet spot: far enough away to not draw any undue attention to himself, but close enough to never lose me in the crowd. He doesn't quite fit in though, it?s subtle and I doubt anyone else notices, but it's enough to draw him to my attention.

He won't be alone, but I can't locate the rest of his team with my indirect investigations. The constant downpour of condensation is reducing my vision distance. There could quite easily be some rooftop spotters or even aerial back up. The ceiling is high enough to accommodate some smaller craft or unmanned drones. I don't look too hard or they may twig that I'm alert to their presence. That could force their hand. Just how bad that could be, and how many people would die, depends entirely upon who this so far anonymous ?they? are.

I resume my journey with purpose now. I mentally run through the list of possibles for a job like this. The list is long: I've made a lot of enemies in my time. Hell, I don't even know what the job IS. I'm going on very little information and I desperately need to redress that. I'm also woefully unarmed. My body - as deadly as it was - wouldn't fare so well if there were any weapons involved.

I drift over to one of the thousands of street stalls that infest the under-city. Groups of them here and there, they sprout like mushrooms. An appropriate simile considering the constant damp conditions. I casually glance over a few things and drift on down the line. It took me a good ten minutes to reach the stall I wanted. If I'd made a beeline straight for my target it would have looked unnatural.

It's a tech vendor; the tables and shelf units are piled high with all sorts of equipment and technological paraphernalia. There is hardware to suit any purpose you care to name. Some of it is quite clearly scrap; scavenged from the refuse pits and plundered for any working components. The pieces that look like they may be serviceable are likely to have slightly more dubious origins.

As I move forward and duck under the plastic sheet that serves as a roof, the proprietor moves forwards to greet me. To my left is a hulking bear of a man who probably acts as the stalls minder. He is slouched in a chair and has a chunky looking gun that looks like it has been cobbled together from junk laying across his lap, it probably was. His beady eyes never leave me and follow me as I approach the owner; he keeps his hands on the weapon.

The shop keeper looks ancient. His skin has taken on some of the qualities of corpse and looks almost gangrenous. It happens to everyone down here eventually; it?s one of the many side effects of the constant damp conditions. He?s wearing a sophisticated looking piece of headgear that he has just pushed up from over his eyes, its all lenses and scanner bars. It must help him work with the tiny circuitry in all of his merchandise.

I glance over his shoulder at the bank of screens on the back wall, some are ancient and actually have glass screens. Archaic, but they show reflections well. My tail is on the other side of the street, affecting his own interest in a stall. The angle he is standing at keeps me in his line of sight. I ask a few discreet questions, and quickly establish this junk isn't all that this shrivelled little man sells. Sometimes the blatant corruption and lawlessness that the gangs encourage and actively cultivate down here is a real boon.

Currency changes hands, not in my favour, and I leave as casually as I entered.

The sleeve of my sim-leather coat now conceals an enervation blade and my glasses now have a couple of chips in them. Newly imposed on the lenses is a HUD, and a menu giving me access to a variety of filters. With a few specific eye movements, I select a filter that cuts through the rain. I pull my collar up to better protect myself from the constant downpour, I twin this movement with a quick glance upwards, a perfectly natural gesture and one that can be seen repeated almost every time someone has to step outside into the downpour.

I?d guessed right. An airborne drone is tracking me, and there's a figure on a roof a few buildings further along the street wearing an optical array of some sort. The tightly packed buildings would have allowed him to easily follow me anywhere in this city with only mild acrobatics. My glasses tell me the drone is a hundred metres up and the figure on the roof is a little over sixty metres distant at an elevation of fifteen metres. Too high and too far to intervene, unless he has a ranged weapon with good accuracy.

I take a right and after crossing a few intersections come out on a main motodrag. Vehicles are streaming past, the noise and fumes are almost overwhelming. There are hardly any people along here, only the very poorest and most destitute lived and worked alongside these things. Long term exposure to the pollution is deadly and can have mutagenic effects.

My conditioned brain had all but forced me to memorize the street layout around my hab block for ten miles in every direction, and have a generalized knowledge of the entire city and all its districts. As a consequence, I know that another thirty paces down this road is a subway that travels under the drag.

I turn down the steps into the dark tunnel, the light strips having long since been stolen. A hapless resident lay sprawled at the bottom of the steps, covered in a blanket and a thin layer of his own vomit and excrement. I give him a swift kick in the ribs, the man jerked violently awake. His arm shoots out of the folds in the blanket; knife in hand.

I flash some currency chips and his eyes gleam hungrily. The knife lowers, and I tell him what to do. He grabs the chips and my coat and leaps up. Now wearing my long jacket, collar pulled up high, he walks down the tunnel. I slide back into an alcove, the darkness completely hiding me. A quick eye movement switches the filter in my glasses to night vision and I waited.

My doppelganger is nearly half way down, silhouetted by the light at the end of the tunnel, when I hear the faintest of footsteps. At first I'm not sure if I'm just imagining them they are so quiet. The noise of the motodrag - a dull drone from down here - doesn't exactly make for easy listening either. The footsteps stop. It's doubtful he'll enter the tunnel while he thinks I'm still in it. If it had actually been me walking down, and I'd turned around, there would be no where for him to hide. I could do nought but spot him. The wretch disguised as me finally reaches the stairs and returns to the light. I paid him to disappear again as quickly as he can, so hopefully it will fool the guys outside just long enough to enact my plan. A few seconds after my pretender exits, the footsteps start up again; faster this time.

I slip the knife into my hand and get ready. I can feel the battle lust trying to force it?s self upon me. I can hear my blood thrumming through my body, practically feel the adrenaline flowing, memories surface, the shakes, heat. My training makes an entry, it's as if two entities are battling for control of my body. The raw, animalistic battle lust can't compete with the refined, frighteningly powerful training. It takes over. I'm a passenger now; relegated to back-seat driver. I can suggest, but not control.

My heart rate and breathing slows, adrenaline's effect is nullified, my mind is reduced to a blank slate. Nothing is allowed to intrude on the complete and total concentration. The man steps into view, every detail is analysed: height, build, posture, clothes, equipment (both visible and concealed), angles, distances. A dozen plans are formulated, accounting for hundreds of variables, and the most workable is chosen. All in a matter of seconds. What those people did to me...it both terrifies and awes me in equal measure. I'm never sure what I'm/it's going to do. All I can do is give it an objective, the route it takes...

I snake out just as he passes, my elbow connecting perfectly with his temple. I caught him right in the most unbalanced phase of his gait. The blow sends him sprawling and a cry of pain and surprise escapes him. My next step takes me over him and I come down hard with my knee right on his chest, the air whooshes out of his lungs. Stunned from the blow to the head and barely able to breathe, he poses very little threat to me and won?t be able to put up a proper defence. A totally alien voice issues from my throat. It has a guttural, uneducated quality about it, antithetic to my usual high-city accent. I sound like one of the locals.

"Freeeesh MEAT!"

The enervation blade bites into him, just a flesh wound, but that's all it takes. The jolt the blade delivers to the man's nervous system paralyses him. He stiffens beneath me for a moment and then falls limp. It's only temporary, and will ware off in about a minute. For that extra bit of authentic brutality I slam his head back into the ground. Still in the alien voice, I say

"You ain't from arand 'ere ar ya bub?"

With that I start rummaging through his clothes. No ID or personal effects, but I wasn't expecting any. You always come to a job clean. I find some currency chips, a compact solid slug special, an enervation blade like my own, and an ear piece.

There's a throat mike as well: the clever kind. It's just a flat, skin-coloured patch: very high tech. I pretend to overlook it, a local would never see it. Whoever was on the other end would be hearing this, in fact i was counting on it. I swipe all the stuff, give him another quick once over, and stand back up.

"Pleasure doin' buisness wid cha"

My parting gift is a viscous kick in the head that should keep him out of action long enough for me to make an escape. As I walk away I insert the ear piece to listen in on the radio chatter.

"T1 is down, contact lost following altercation with a native. Life signs stable." One voice reports

"Target has entered a covered market...attempting to reacquire...reacquisition failed" another chimes in with.

"Abort the mission and establish a perimeter around the residence. Set drones on low level patrol. Maintain zero presence, the target must not be alerted" A deeper voice says. It is undoubtedly a commanding tone, this guy is in charge of the operation. I take out the earpiece and disable it for now. I don?t want anyone tracking me through it.

I round a corner and almost collapse as my training releases me from its grip, returning to its passive state. I stagger and lean against a wall for support, breathing heavily. It's a shock to the system: being back in control. I'm fatigued as well; it takes a lot out of me. I was successful though; I have, at least some, intelligence about my enemies now. Not enough to specific, but it certainly narrows down the list.

Not just anyone has access to the sort of tech and resources that I have arrayed against me. Of the ones that remain, there are a few that really set the alarm bells ringing, and one that would be VERY bad indeed. I need to hide out, see if I can't narrow the list down some more. There are a few favours I can call in.

thats actually quite good.

 

[Lesd3vil]

I haven't bothered reading what others have put here, so I might be reiterating points already made, but I'd say no. It seems too much like you're copying a bunch of other people's ideas and trying to make them as verbose as you can without seeming like you're trying to be verbose... It's REALLY pretentious. Don't get me wrong, I like metaphors and similes, but overuse of them leaves a bad taste...

Also, consider a switch in your perspective and/or your tense... Writing first person AND present tense is incredibly difficult to pull off even for experienced writers and this doesn't strike me as something written by someone with any experience.

Try grouping your paragraphs a little less loosely, maybe using a few shorter sentences.

I understand that this is a set-up for expansion later, but your character feels monotonous and robotic, try giving them some personality, a touch of emotion... You already established that s/he's 'trying to dampen (his or her) memories', what are these and why? How does s/he feel, what is s/he thinking about, how does s/he react when s/he notices the tail? At the moment s/he sees him and buys a knife... Is s/he afraid? Angry? Interested? Mildly annoyed? Amused? Why doesn't s/he kill the man? Does s/he have a moral problem with doing so? Perhaps the reason s/he's trying to forget is because he's afraid of him/herself? Why is s/he afraid and not proud of his/her ability? (here we have another point. Establish your gender! Just telling us s/he pretended to look at some dancing girls is very ambiguous, in your world homosexuality might be a norm; in fact you could explore sexuality to create interesting situations for your character - your character might be a die-hard lesbian who hates men due to being raped in the past?)

... And so on and so forth. Another point is that there's nothing wrong with telling us what your character is thinking, as long as you present it in a consistent fashion; you'd find this much more easy if you were to switch to past tense.

That went on a bit... Hope this helps >>

Oh, also, please don't accentuate words by writing them in caps... I dunno if they work on here but italics look so much more professional.

Ok, this might seem a little pretentious too, but I'm gonna post the first part of a chapter of something I wrote some time ago... A friend of mine loves Star Wars and came up with the idea but asked me to write it as I do a ton of writing; prose, poetry and lyrics. I'm not saying it'll be to your taste, and I'm definitely no master of the art myself, but I'm gonna be original and give an example of my own scrawlings unlike these wusses who just shoot you down here goes:

The building was on fire and falling down, Orath Sakoran was falling to his doom.

Wait. On reflection, that seems like a pretty bad place to start a story, so let's rewind a little; two and a half days, to be exact. It's late evening. The place is a bar, small and poorly lit; could be any one of a hundred thousand such bars on a thousand planets in the galaxy... As it stands, this one's on the small trading planet of Paonid, a planet on the far edge of the Inner Rim, sitting on the Vaathkree Trade Corridor. Wisps of smoke and soft strains of music braid themselves through the air; not the acrid, burning smoke of the disaster we'll get back to later, but the aromatic smoke of cigarettes. A low rumble , the sound of dozens of beings conversing at once, drowns out softer noises. There's a card shark fleecing some poor fool at Pazaak in one corner, and in a shady alcove, sitting by himself, is our soon-to-be gravitationally challenged protagonist: a Zabrak, undersized for his race, with shoulder length dark hair.

This isn't the beginning of the story, not from any point of view. But it's the right place to start telling it.

*

Orath was listening to the conversations in the bar ? not quite eavesdropping, but it could turn into that if he happened to hear the right combination of words. For the past few days, he'd felt that slight itching that he knew was his instinct telling him it was time to move on, hop planets, maybe change his false name. He hadn't done it yet, because he was listening to a stronger instinct that said being in this bar at this time and not quite eavesdropping was the right place to be... So he listened. He was good at it. Years of experience had taught him that people in bars have loose tongues, especially in a dive like this, and he'd grown adept at picking out useful titbits of information which he could sell, or turn in to the local authorities. He wasn't disappointed tonight. A seedy-looking human was conversing quietly with a powerfully built Trandoshian across the bar. Orath didn't catch the first half of their conversation, but what he did hear incensed him; an influential young politician was to be assassinated, the local security force was paid off and even the system's senators were in on the deal.

Orath decided to do something about it.

 

[ZeroDotZero]

snip

It seems stupid to criticise the first paragraph, which is traditionally vague to induce a sense of mystery and compulsion to carry on reading.

I stopped reading after 6/7 paragraphs, as it didn't seem like the kind of thing I would enjoy, and I didn't get a feel of the general focus of the piece. Is he job hunting? Is it a man or a woman? Is he a criminal? I had no idea of what was happening, really.

 

[Hexador]

snip

It seems stupid to criticise the first paragraph, which is traditionally vague to induce a sense of mystery and compulsion to carry on reading.

I stopped reading after 6/7 paragraphs, as it didn't seem like the kind of thing I would enjoy, and I didn't get a feel of the general focus of the piece. Is he job hunting? Is it a man or a woman? Is he a criminal? I had no idea of what was happening, really.

A first paragraph can be both vague and descriptive at the same time, and in many cases is make or break for a reader.

Novels are an exception because they have paid a moderate sum of money (lets say 8+ dollars U.S.) for the book, but considering all we are presented with is the first chapter, I think criticizing the first paragraph is quite relevant.

My main problem with it, which I thought was rather obvious, was that it had no form. If it was a sculpture it would be a lump of clay. Sure, we are given two EXTREMELY vague details: that the nameless, formless character is wandering (or floating if looked at objectively) around aimlessly, and that he has some problems. Those could easily come later after setting up a scene (IE: a bustling market, a shady "undercity", or a raunchy red lights district).

Considering that the characters "training" is a rather strong personality trait presented in the story I would suggest starting with that. Not only does that training give the character a reason to move, it influences his behavior and personality. The fact he tries to suppress it hints at a deeper internal struggle that could be the hook to get us to read further.

 

[sean360h]

I was expecting that to be poor when it was very good interest conflict id like to read it.
Were you inspired by enslaved odyssey to the west ? because i thought it was similar to it sort of middle ages mixed with high tech future stuff
you should keep making the book looks very interesting

 

[Spacewolf]

Way to over the top in terms of adjectives (as in not everything needs to be described)
and basically reads like watchmen if i wanted to read something like this i would just read the rorschach parts of that

 

[deus-ex-machina]

After reading your chapter and the replies, I would conclude that this isn't the place to be asking for advice. Go to a forum where people are used to criticising writing.

I didn't think it was too bad.

 

[sean360h]

I am going give you my opinion of your first paragraph. Brutal honesty - please don't take offense.

"I let the tides pull me along, direction and destination mattered not.

Tides? Tides of what? Are we in the ocean? Is the main character drowning?

"Each change in direction is accompanied by new sensual stimuli; sights, smells, and tastes even."

Okay, thats nice - I guess I'll just take your word for it since you don't feel like letting us know exactly what sights, smells and tastes you are feeling. SHOW US, DON'T TELL US!

"The constant flux of my surroundings serves to distract my mind from things that don't bare thinking about."

Your surroundings are changing? How? Where the heck are you?! I still think you're in the ocean! What THINGS don't you want to think about? If you are going to mention them give us more than just "things." Perhaps throw in a short line of dialogue via the character that hints at his internal or external struggles.

"The gentle currents of the crowd worked to counteract the roiling torrents within a mind that was in disarray and turmoil."

Gentle currents AND roiling torrents? That's a major contradiction. Wait, we aren't in the perspective of the main character any more? If we are shouldn't we be told instead that: "I've always found the currents of the crowd soothing. You don't have to think within the roiling torrents, you can just float along like driftwood in the ocean."

"My mind."

OHHHHHHHHH. That explains the thing that just came before this, but you could just rework that sentence and cut this useless fragment out.

"The packed streets of the under-city always serve as a distraction from the monsters that lurk within my soul."

OH! So we are in the under-city! Uh... what is it under? How packed are the streets? What are they packed with? Again, don't just tell us! SHOW US! Also, you've told us the character is troubled. We get it. Either tell us what's on his mind and remove any interest we might have with this guy or stop mentioning it all together so we will read on because we wan't to know what his problem is.

"What with the host of services on offer - both legal and illegal - one could lose themselves."

What kind of services? BJS? Poisons? Drugs? Illegal gambling? Kiddy porn? SHOW USSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

The quote about currents is a metaphor he is comparing the crowd to the ocean without using like as or than
the under city is like a dilapidated district they are packed with people what else
the illegal services is probably prostitution

 

[ZeroDotZero]

snip

It seems stupid to criticise the first paragraph, which is traditionally vague to induce a sense of mystery and compulsion to carry on reading.

I stopped reading after 6/7 paragraphs, as it didn't seem like the kind of thing I would enjoy, and I didn't get a feel of the general focus of the piece. Is he job hunting? Is it a man or a woman? Is he a criminal? I had no idea of what was happening, really.

A first paragraph can be both vague and descriptive at the same time, and in many cases is make or break for a reader.

Novels are an exception because they have paid a moderate sum of money (lets say 8+ dollars U.S.) for the book, but considering all we are presented with is the first chapter, I think criticizing the first paragraph is quite relevant.

Well, seeing as he does intend to continue this into a full book, that comment is irrelevant. While I disagree, I do believe that even several paragraphs further in, I am non-the-wiser, and that is a bad thing.

 

[Hexador]

I am going give you my opinion of your first paragraph. Brutal honesty - please don't take offense.

"I let the tides pull me along, direction and destination mattered not.

Tides? Tides of what? Are we in the ocean? Is the main character drowning?

"Each change in direction is accompanied by new sensual stimuli; sights, smells, and tastes even."

Okay, thats nice - I guess I'll just take your word for it since you don't feel like letting us know exactly what sights, smells and tastes you are feeling. SHOW US, DON'T TELL US!

"The constant flux of my surroundings serves to distract my mind from things that don't bare thinking about."

Your surroundings are changing? How? Where the heck are you?! I still think you're in the ocean! What THINGS don't you want to think about? If you are going to mention them give us more than just "things." Perhaps throw in a short line of dialogue via the character that hints at his internal or external struggles.

"The gentle currents of the crowd worked to counteract the roiling torrents within a mind that was in disarray and turmoil."

Gentle currents AND roiling torrents? That's a major contradiction. Wait, we aren't in the perspective of the main character any more? If we are shouldn't we be told instead that: "I've always found the currents of the crowd soothing. You don't have to think within the roiling torrents, you can just float along like driftwood in the ocean."

"My mind."

OHHHHHHHHH. That explains the thing that just came before this, but you could just rework that sentence and cut this useless fragment out.

"The packed streets of the under-city always serve as a distraction from the monsters that lurk within my soul."

OH! So we are in the under-city! Uh... what is it under? How packed are the streets? What are they packed with? Again, don't just tell us! SHOW US! Also, you've told us the character is troubled. We get it. Either tell us what's on his mind and remove any interest we might have with this guy or stop mentioning it all together so we will read on because we wan't to know what his problem is.

"What with the host of services on offer - both legal and illegal - one could lose themselves."

What kind of services? BJS? Poisons? Drugs? Illegal gambling? Kiddy porn? SHOW USSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

No offence, but a lot of these points are just stupid. You know WHY you have an imagination right?

Heres a clue: its to IMAGINE stuff.

You dont need every little detail told to you surely? When he says that there are a "host of special services - both legal and illegal-" do you REALLY need to have every last one of them read out to you? Are you so virtuos and innocent that you have NO idea what goes on in, what is clearly, a red light district?

And not to mention, why would the character just INSTANTLY bear all? The whole inner demons thing is there to make us interested in the character. To give us the shell of a history that can be fleshed out and explored later. This IS just a chapter after all. Granted, there are probably better and more original ways of doing this other than the rather cliche "inner turmoil that you arent a part of yet".

OT: I enjoyed it, fairly cliche at times, and the environments, although intriguing, arent all that inspiring or captivating.

Also, one thing that REALLY got to me (pretty pedantic really) was the use of the word "condensation".

"The constant downpour of condensation"

Was that REALLY necessary? what was wrong with the word "rain"? This sentance just smacks of a cheap excuse to use a big word.

And anyway... i always thought it was precipitation.

On the whole, good job, i wouldnt mind reading more!

Lack of imagination and lack of description are two different things. Sure, we can IMAGINE what goes on in a red light district, but we can do that without reading this story. What makes this place different from any other (or perhaps the same as any other), why we should be interested in it, those are things we can't imagine. They are also things he hasn't told us. You can't expect readers to want to read for the sake of reading.

 

[Jakub324]

Yes, I would. I'm told I'm good, but your descriptions are incredible!!

 

[hardlymotivated]

The plot and pacing aren't too bad, but you really need to work on your grammar and descriptions. Stop trying to make your sentences sound clever; just write them normally. There are parts of it which come off as pretentious (first few sentences) and unintentionally funny ("viscous kick").

Not a bad attempt, though.

 

[Tonjac]

I would definately pick up this book.
The first chapter catch my interest, and honestly i think it's very powerful how well you use the main characters observations to describe the general filth and barely covered hopelessness of the backstreets of a major city.

I am slightly worried if your able to keep that level of descriptive writing going throughout the whole book, without it becoming too pretentious, but i'd definately give you the benefit of the doubt and pick up the book.

I was very entertained by reading it, and that is the best compliment i can give.

 

[necromanzer52]

I might read a few more chapters to see where you're going with this, but your writing style leaves a lot to be desired.

Don't use lots of big words to try to appear smart, it just comes off as pretentious and can break the flow very easily. Instead try to sound like an actual person.

 

[Shoqiyqa]

You're going to hate this.

Spoiler: No, really, you're not going to like this at all.

Hey everyone, I've embarked upon an odyssey and started to write a book. Below is the first chapter of said book, and I would love to get some people opinions and comments on it. So witout further ado:

Bad start. That should be:

I would love to get some people's opinions and comments on it, so without further ado, here is the first chapter of that book:

I let the tides pull me along, direction and destination mattered not.

That should have been a semicolon or full stop, because those are two separate sentences.

Each change in direction is accompanied by new sensual stimuli; sights, smells, and tastes even.

While you could get away with philosophical rambling taking over from a story, to switch from past tense to present like this just makes it seem that you lost track of your own writing.

The constant flux of my surroundings serves to distract my mind from things that don?t bare thinking about.

Now it's clear you're talking about your life's course in the present tense, so this is not philosophical rambling and the change from past to present is a bit jarring. Also, that should be "bear" as in "load-bearing wall" not "bare" as in "bare-chested gladiator."

The gentle currents of the crowd worked to counteract the roiling torrents within a mind that was in disarray and turmoil.

Roiling torrents in a mind in turmoil? That sounds like you're repeating yourself. We're back in the past tense again, aren't we?

My mind.

That's not a sentence, so it should have been introduced with a comma or colon, or simply left out as it's really quite clear at this point whose mind you mean.

The packed streets of the under-city always serve as a distraction from the monsters that lurk within my soul.

Back to the future already? My, but you do jump around.

What with the host of services on offer - both legal and illegal - one could lose themselves.

Oh, dear, no. The dashes are a journalists' shortcut and you're mixing pronouns. "One could lose oneself" or "a person could lose himself" or even "people could lose themselves" would be fine. "Could" is past tense again, though.

The steady beat my feet have been drumming out upon the pavement for the last few hours ceases.

That's back in the present tense. This is uncomfortable for a pedant.

My features are thrown into sharp contrast by the blood red neon streaming out of the shop window.

Here, you've jumped from your own point of view to that of an unidentified observer.

I tilt my head towards it slightly. Not a shop, a pleasure den.

"It's not a shop but a pleasure den."

The legions of distractions my wanderings here provide only force it back, they stop short of blocking it completely although it comes close.

That's two sentences with only a comma between them again and you've gone from plural to singular, which makes the paragraph harder to understand.

As close as anything can without befouling my mind at least.

That's a clause, not a sentence, so the comma should have come before that.

---

I let the tides pull me along, not caring where I went or by what route. Each shift in the currents brought new stimuli, sights, smells and tastes to distract my mind from things that didn't bear closer inspection. The gentle currents of the crowd kept my mind from the monsters lurking in my soul. I tried to lose myself in the myriad offers of services both legal and illegal.

The steady rhythm of my feet on the wet pavement ceased in the blood-red neon glow streaming out of the window, not of a shop but of a pleasure den. I turned my head towards the young women in the window flaunting their flesh, writhing around in hedonistic dances as they tried to tempt me inside. The alluring smiles they all wore didn't extend to their dead eyes. Any joy they ever found in this had been long since destroyed, replaced by indifference and pain. Not even the smog of engineered pheromones and perfumes could tempt me inside after meeting a gaze like that.

Besides, it wasn't the girls that interested me, although I pretended they did. As much as I wanted them to, even the distractions of this trip and the emotions I'd been trying to feel couldn't block my training. It was hardwired, always running in the background. Even pushed so far back, the training still managed to highlight this man.

He had been following me since the moment I stumbled out of my hab block. He was good, obviously trained, not just some rat scoping me out. He stayed in the sweet spot far enough away not to draw any undue attention to himself but close enough to never lose me in the crowd. He didn't quite fit in though. It was subtle and I doubt anyone else noticed, but it was enough to draw him to my attention.

I've slightly shortened that and tidied up the grammar, but inevitably changed the style in doing it.

 

[Shoqiyqa]

"The constant downpour of condensation"

Was that REALLY necessary? what was wrong with the word "rain"? This sentance just smacks of a cheap excuse to use a big word.

And anyway... i always thought it was precipitation.

I took that as meaning he was literally under the city and the downpour was literally constant and actually formed of condensation on the ceiling above dripping down, rather than more conventional outdoor weather, although the conditions required to generate enough "rain" that way to obscure vision would be rather extreme, like a cross between Vietnam and a sauna on the floor and liquid nitrogen pipes overhead.

 

[Amgeo]

You make or break a book with the first page, and to get them to give the first page a chance you need a strong opening paragraph. The one you have here isn't going to get someone interested. Start with a simple, interesting detail. Give a little context. "I let the tides pull me along" tells the reader "I don't care about what's happening and neither should you." Keep it, but add one more bit before it that will get the reader to care.

 

[umpufnufguf]

yes, put simply. i really liked it, and would really like to read the finished product, good work.

 

[Tallim]

You shouldn't show your work before it's finished and then only to people you trust to give you honest opinions. Quickest way to completely undermine your self confidence is to do exactly this. Especially if this is a first draft.

Best advice I ever got for writing fiction was to allow yourself to be a bad writer. Get the story down on paper, don't worry about grammar, details, spelling and all that stuff. Editing will take care of that.

I actually practice that online much to the annoyance of the grammar police.

You need a comma before 'much to the...', as it is a subordinate clause.

Lol. As the line itself pointed out I don't care online. But I think you knew that.