Five: Episode Six is based off the following book excerpt from my science fiction supernatural thriller, The Contingency Generation.
I wake to slap beat music and singers crooning persuasively, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Something is wrong. I usually waken to the sound of high-spirited orchestra trills and challenging trumpets. Out of thousands of years of music, I’ve sifted down to just a few that motivate me into action, and my remade version of the ancient Ride of the Valkyries is my choice for days when I have a presentation to give. Like today.
I linger in the softness of my bed, wondering what setting I pushed to cause this oldie to play. Then suddenly my foggy memory clears. It’s Kate’s theme song. AND HER CHOICE OF DIRGE.
I throw back covers and hit the floor running. No. It can’t be. Please Kate. No. At the media wall, I frantically enter her security number. Thank goodness she’s left her wall set on screen mode. I see the close up grain of her cognac leather couch and dial back the focus. “Kate, are you there?”
Fuzzy figures in the shadowy background come toward the wall at the sound of my voice. They are militia. I can tell by their uniform emblem that they are a Life Preservation and Resource team. Oh God, no. Kate not yet. I’m not ready.
“Hello. Please tell me…Is she …?”
“Dead. Yes. But who are you and how are you aware of this?” The chief officer speaks while tapping data onto his forearm screen.
“I’m her designated kin.” Maybe she’s not really dead. Maybe she’s fallen into another sleep coma. “Can I see her….please?”
“As soon as you verify your kinship.”
I pull back the edge of my shirtsleeve to expose my right shoulder.
Data man points his scanner in the direction of my arm from his side of the wall screen. I remain in position as long as my racing heart will allow. Finally, he nods. “You’re verified with one exception. I must insist on your full name. Initials are not allowed.”
I bristle at his request. “That’s not true. My initials are my legal name. I paid the fee to have them on record. You have no right to request otherwise.”
Now he looks at me. On the screen I can see that his attentive eyes are a shade of blue that is a genetic rarity.
I soften my voice. “Please. I need to see her. Also her Rejuvacatin vial. Have they found it? Was it used?
Data Blue Eyes stares me down. “Full name. What does SJ stand for?”
I wait. He is resolute. I get as close to the wall as I can and then whisper low into the direction of his ear, “Satan Junior.”
A smirk flashes and then his face refreezes into formality. My brief hope for anonymity is lost when I hear a solemn whistle and a voice call from the direction of one of the fuzzy figures in the background.
“THE Satan…Dr. Satan… Junior? Your’re the daughter of the einstein who discovered the resurrection principle?”
I dread the ensuing spectacle so I cut to the core. “Yes, I am. He was my Raising Father. He shortened our family name, Satanopoulos to Satan. It was his idea of a marketing strategy. It was something he did as a joke to get sponsors for his research. Now can we get on with it? My friend…I need to see….”
A white draped form on a gurney appears in my wall view.
This blog post is an excerpt from my supernatural thriller, Five, presented in rough draft version. The posts will appear weekly as my story development progresses. The story snippets will likely be full of typos, garbage, and confusion. I’m sure to regret allowing readers a sneak peak of the chaos involved in this process of making a finished book.
Someday, if I still have an audience, my book(s) and screenplays will be polished and for sale. Until then, my story snippets are free, but payment by “subscribing” with your email would be a nice gesture. For doing this you might get a discount on my purchasable work should that day ever arrive. All you get now is a notice via email of a new story episode that I have ready to read on my “blog.” I don’t sell my email list or do anything else with it.
Why am I doing this stupid and terrible thing—letting readers see my “off the cuff” story writing?
Book industry experts say that in today’s world of book marketing, an unknown author must build their own sales platform. I’m supposed to advance my platform by collecting readers, and for now, by blogging. Since I can’t imagine blogging about what I had for breakfast or the things my cat does, then instead, I’m blogging fiction excerpts of my work(s) in progress.
Thanks for slogging along. Maybe we’ll meet on a bookshelf someday.