Shannon was in the habit of annoying adults with his ghetto talk. He looked and talked better than the real thing.
Dr. White cleared his throat. "Now . . . knock off this 'how come' and double-negative business. Your one chance—as has been true for all of the 'savage' races around the world—is to be educated, reflective, civilized—one of THEM, dear boy!"
L.A. 2037. With biotech and robotics booming, a new race has been born: the transgenic. Only these truly brilliant beings are fit for the age of machine intelligence. The rest trade in bare survival. A runaway from an abusive home enrolls at a community college to escape the dangers of prostitution. A Muslim man, the son of an immigrant engineer, works a "backward" job for the LAPD, risking his life as the "arms and legs" of society. A lifelong petty criminal gets his shot at a big-time scam by working security for the Bureau of Prisons. The pivotal moment in all of these lives arrives when the world's most famous transgenic plots an act of vengeance against his Maker.
Shannon Jones is the product of a secret genetic experiment on inner-city families which left him with a brilliant but unstable mind. He lures these others—and soon the entire city of Los Angeles—into a fight against the market forces that are enacting a eugenicide on ordinary humanity.
"... a tour de force of hard science fiction... one of the most believable and real futures I've experienced... a beautiful mess."
- Todd Ellis. (thatsnotcurrent.com)
"... a raw, dark, and intricate thriller... a bold voice for marginalized communities."
- Tonya Pennington. (blacksci-fi.com)
For a taste of this trying time in our future history, please see the opening chapters below. The novel is available in print and in various electronic formats.
For some history about the project, see the Secret Preface . . . but I recommend circling back to it after reading the book. No one cares what the talking heads have to say.
Gamma
The first five chapters . . .
Prologue
". . . I saw a month-old baby on Alvarado hit by a sound bullet and she almost died. I saw a soldier of the state stabbed a dozen times by children too young to drive. I saw police in battle helmets and spacesuits wading ahead faceless as though into the contagion of another world. I saw brothers climbing trees to set the leaves on fire. Yes, and I watched that young man die. I watched them throw bricks at his Ferrari and saw their faces, and maybe they fooled themselves that it was the blood of a Ferrari that came from his body when they went to work on his head. {'Mercy . . .'} Language is broke, brothers and sisters. Even though the Dajjal may have a name, language is broke. All I know is that the heir of Muhammad won't come leading no army. Tonight all armies are the Dajjal's and don't ask me because only God knows what we've got to do to SAVE ourselves. {'No, tell us!'} I am a mere exhorter. {'Tell us!'} I am a mere exhorter. Tonight you are alone with God."
-- Minister Will in Los Angeles, November 2037
Perfect Sight
ROCKSMITH: It's precisely that sort of sexed-up conspiracy theory that encouraged last month's riots. A black uprising has been the white liberal wet-dream since the Communist movement of the 1930s.
CORWIN: It wasn't Shannon Jones' skin color that made him black.
ROCKSMITH: Oh please.
CORWIN: It was us treating him like property, intellectual or otherwise. The U.S. government mutated his DNA and not only didn't INFORM his parents—
ROCKSMITH: A corporation with some support from DARPA hardly qualifies as "the U.S. government."
CORWIN: Now ALL our children wear these molecular chains. Like Dr. Jones, they are slaves to aptitudes and features we write into them. They are answers to our commands. Dr. Jones died leading a slave rebellion, a rebellion of the very life force inside us.
-- Rock Scissors Paper, talk show starring Randy Rocksmith, December 2037.
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2.
3.
Evil Appetite
A cure for cystic fibrosis . . . a cure for arthritis . . . a treatment for eczema . . . White Incubator Corporations: repaying Shannon Jones' debt to society . . . and more.
Evolution? No.
Solutions? You can bet your life on them.
-- PR Spot for White Incubator, Inc., 2037.