What follows is a small excerpt from my epic dystopian novel (that is still a WIP). It is a rather large novel, one that will most likely be broken up into parts (while a super mega ultra rare edition will be. . .all parts in one.).
OK, here’s a hint at how massive it is right now. 600+ pages and I have 20 or so pages of outline. It’s in its raw form; unedited, not revised. Just. Raw. *boom*
Anyway, this particular addition is something I came up with the other day and as such, it has found a place within the novel, which serves as a sort of backdrop. A society that is controlled via nanomachines. Where the rich live in biodomes and the poor in slums or radioactive wastelands. Where lies and fear are spread continuously to help control the weak.
It’s up to a group of rebels to take on the organization that overthrew the world’s governments from their original rule and to free the people whose minds have been warped. Can they rebuild society, though? Can they remake the Earth? Or is it all just a fantasy?
It’s Hell on Earth. Here. Now.
Malthus turned his attention back to the computer monitor. His eyes tired from staring at the screen of variables and formulas for so long. Hours upon hours. The calculation was everything—it meant. . .everything.
They have to be exact. Precise.
He felt a vibration in his pocket. Another disturbance. There was no time for more of those.
The computer screen went black. Anger set in. A mighty fist hammered the keyboard.
Malthus sighed heavily. The generator probably finally went.
Then, on the screen there appeared a ghastly man, an old friend and lab partner of his. “Malthus,”
“You—you? It can’t be.”
The man spoke again. This time, his tone more melancholic. “This is a pre-recorded message. I pray when you receive this, you know what to do. Play it. Share it. It is time.”
The man cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
“My friends, I have a confession I would like to share with you.”
“You see, I cannot contribute to society anymore; for what it stands for, the people that are placed upon such high pedestals, that will send us to our certain doom. What I can do is call for us to rebel.”
His eyes opened; an inferno raged within them. “Rebel, friends.”
“Let us lead each other into unity and overthrow the corruption that is now. Let us purge this idyllic idiocy that casts its horrible shadow of death and our demise.”
The man’s voice grew louder, almost shouting. “Rise up.”
“Rise up from your decrepit chair of lives lost. Shed the shackles of debt and control. Rip off the blindfold of lies and deceit. Remove the earplugs that kept the truth from ringing in your ears!”
“Be free,” he shouted.
The fire in the man’s spirit raged on, behind his words, and in his voice. “See your brothers and sisters; for we all are of one race. Cast aside the labels: of prejudice, race, religion, sex, and profession. Let the truth ring; let it resound throughout the land! We will not be slaves! We will never be subjective subjects to a corrupt and unruly society and government!”
“We must be fleet-footed, truthful and just. For our enemies are numerous and vast. We must make examples of those responsible.”
His tone changed to a cautionary tale. “Be wary, friends, for there are brothers and sisters who are oppressed and fear for their families and loved ones. We must protect them, our neighbors, the sick, the poor, and our children.”
The man took in another deep breath, while a tear ran down his cheek. “Let our voices carry truth. Let our final cry be heard! Let the world know, we are no longer dumb, deaf or blind to the corruption that plagues us! And we shall strike down those that oppose the will of the People.”
“Enough!” said a stranger in the video recording. “He’s said enough. Now, make an example of what we do. . .to traitors.”
The defiant man breathed heavily. His spirit raged on. “We are the beacons in the dark! We are the Torch Bearers!”
A gunshot resounded and the man still sat up. Focused. Fixated.
The man shouted at the top of his lungs, “WE WILL NOT BE CONTROLLED!”
Gunfire erupted on the scene, and then the man, along with whoever was present were engulfed in flames.
Malthus stared at the screen and stopped the recording. He grinned to himself. “My friend, you did it. You really did it.”
I hope you enjoyed that small piece and that you potentially, look forward to the final product. . .when it gets done. Hoo!
More to come and all that fun stuff. Right now? Dinner! I gotta make this BBQ pulled chicken. 😉
Until next time.