If you make a deal with the Devil, don’t forget to read the fine
print.
Three operatives find themselves on the run after a corporate sabotage job
goes awry. Now, their predatory employer, a heavyweight weapons-tech firm,
wants its elite A-team dead at all costs. Jon is a smooth-talking
charmer. Friedrich is a hacker prodigy. And Guion is the ice-cold tactician
who keeps them all in line.
Backs against the wall, the men strike separate infernal pacts to stay
alive. They vanish into the urban badlands of New York’s Five Hives,
vowing to lie low and figure out why they’ve become targets.
Meanwhile, Jon suspects there’s an insidious evil possessing his
friends, and he wonders if they all got more than they bargained for.
Amid an escalating war between local gangs and the firm’s private
shock troops, the fugitives uncover a conspiracy that threatens to destroy
everyone they know and love. But can they stop the destruction before their
inner demons seize control?
About the Author
At the age of four, Russell Anders started telling stories, often
interrupting his mother during bedtime reading to ask, “Then what
happened?” She always answered, “You tell me,” and his
imagination conjured fantastical tales of dragons and dinosaurs.
He gravitated toward a career as a technical writer and writing coach for
software companies. He also briefly served as a columnist for Dragon
Magazine. One of his favorite hobbies includes tabletop role playing,
especially as the game master. And yes, he’s as cruel to the characters in
his games as he is to the characters in his books; his players love him for
it.
Russel lives with the constant canine companionship of whip-smart but goofy
Sigurd, an English Mastiff (the best breed ever).
Newton’s First Law: An object in motion remains in motion. Until an
outside force screws it all up.
As a grieving child in a burned-out husk of a body, Asher Syphamus was
given an impersonal room within the Company’s cold labs — until he
was offered a second chance with illegal and painful cybernetic
augmentations. Now, after many decades of martial arts training and mental
conditioning, Ash is the all powerful DPL’s top agent and never misses
a target. Along with his beautiful, hyper-sexed purple partner, Vers, the
unstoppable duo hunts down the most dangerous hackers and criminals for
punishment or elimination.
Korya Funo is full of privileged DPL information downloaded into her brain.
If caught, she would be deleted from the census. That keeps her running —
until her luck runs out in Paradise, Nevada. When she’s captured by
Ash and Vers, Korya accidentally reveals the truth about Asher’s
parents’ deaths, and then all hell breaks loose.
Now with all their lives on the line and the fate of the planet riding on
their backs, they trio will show the world why Newton’s First Law is
not to be screwed with.
“Fuck, Vers. Where are you?” Asher Syphamus muttered softly,
knowing the cochlear implant installed just above his jaw bone and below his
ear would pick up his words.
The wind whipped back the few tendrils of hair that escaped the tight bun
containing his long hair. The bun hid locks tipped a rich blue almost
matching the color of his cybernetic left eye.
As he walked away from the Virt Dive, the virtual reality diving bar where
his mark had been lost earlier in the Blue, he wondered why people even
bothered to hide from real life. The fucking Blue was where everyone logged
in, turned on, and turned up in cyberspace. The Blue was a whole world
inside the actual world, one that many used to escape life, spread joy,
disappear into a sea of information, of education… to be your avatar
while you fled your body and got lost in a way that only total computer
immersion could bring. And above the Blue was the White.
The White was a shady, dangerous place where only the most experienced
divers dared to venture — the environment was just too dangerous for a
diver used to only dealing with the Blue. The White was physically a small
blank plane existing between the connection of the Blue and the person
putting out information. Here, the world’s best hackers snatched
dangerous information from accidental info dumps from those who purposefully
stole and sold the data to the highest bidder. No matter how many protocols
were put in place to protect the vulnerable space, the White divers always
found a way in. And his latest ping had come from the mark he’d
finally tracked down to this dive.
He felt the signal he was tracking start to move again and watched as his
target slipped out, looking over her shoulder as if she knew he was there
and following her. As he walked past the large, mirrored wall to the shop,
he caught a quick glimpse of himself as he passed. His face was pale, creamy
tan, the same as his mother’s. He had her eyes too, large but with an
epicanthic fold that proclaimed his Asian ancestry. His eyebrows had some
thickness but with a natural arch that made his eyes rather pretty. He had
his African father’s full lips, though not the same concentration of
melanin, more’s the pity. He could use more sun protection in this
bright-assed desert. His nose was broad though, its bridge straight as a
knife, and his cheekbones were high and sharp, like his dad’s. His
thick, wavy hair was kept long and confined now so it wouldn’t get in
his way.
Though he only caught a glimpse of himself as he followed after his mark,
he could barely stand to look at his reflection. He was a damn near perfect
combination of both his parents from what he could recall, though he
didn’t dwell on that much. The pain of it all was still too
crushing.
The air circulating through his lungs was quiet as he pulled in his
emotions. Barely a sound emerged from his body as his booted feet slammed
down on the concrete when his body lurched forward. His little trip into
nostalgia had given his mark time to run and now he had to give chase.
His heart would be racing if it actually had the capacity to pump hot blood
through his veins. His target was pulling a jackrabbit, dodging in between
early morning foot traffic on the busy city street as she looked around her,
prey knowing she was being stalked by an apex predator. Only the bright and
very visible green of her plaits kept him from moving any faster. No matter
how much he wanted to knock people aside to reach his target, he knew that
drawing more attention to himself would be detrimental to their
mission.
“I’ve been at this since the ass crack of dawn and I would
really like to get some accurate intel from you, you one-being
orgy.”
Don’t get cheeky, Vers responded. You’re just upset you don’t get laid.
Vers’ answer through Asher’s implanted microphone sounded more
amused than insulted. That wasn’t what Asher had hoped for. When Vers
was annoyed, his work efficiency increased by almost three percent and he
could use some of that efficiency now, at least until he caught up with the
woman who pinged on his internal sensors.
“Hmph,” Asher huffed. “Can you keep your mind out of your
pants and on the job? I need to know if she’s the one.”
The green-haired woman in question cast one more furtive look over her
shoulder before trying to hide herself in a gaggle of schoolchildren, all
racing and gleefully dodging through the streets teeming with people
traveling to get to their jobs and appointments in the watery light of a new
sun. With their connection pads in hand, the tourist masses were an
explosion of color, a flock of bright, chattering birds that raced through
the smiling crowds. Their laughter was contagious, and it made Asher grit
his teeth. In a firefight, mundanes always seemed to run right in the path
of danger. He wished they would all just disappear.
I’m working on it. Give me a mo. Paradaise has a complicated network
of —
“You just don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”
Asher managed to dodge several children, keeping one eye on the green of his
mark’s hair as she ducked around a corner. He was closing in.
He moved faster, desperate not to lose her or give his position away. She
couldn’t know if he was actually chasing her and he wanted to stay in
that pocket of the unknown. She might sense someone or something was hot on
her tail, but she had no idea from which direction the attack would come.
And it wasn’t like there were a lot of places to hide in Paradaise,
Nevada.
And then he wanted to smack himself stupid for thinking that a woman who
could possibly be the government hacker he was sent out to find
wouldn’t be wily enough to actually give him the slip. Underestimation
was going to cost him dearly because the moment he turned the corner, he
lost sight of her in a sea of green, low-flying kites.
Hey buddy, guess what? Did you know there’s a butterfly kite flying
festival today? There’s gonna be a lot of kids and old people so maybe
you wanna keep an eye out for that.
“Gee, thanks, Vers. You couldn’t fucking tell me that five
minutes earlier?” As he spoke, he heard a cheer, and a wall of sound
rushed past him as the hum of several hundred robotic and some basic silk
cloth kites took to the sky. People looked up in awe as dancing holograms of
colorful transparent butterflies took to the sky, spinning and dancing as
safe holographic fireworks exploded over them.
Well, it’s a point of historical interest, as they’ve been
having the butterfly festival for over a hundred years. Get some culture,
you asshole. You need it more than you need to get laid.
“What I need is a way around this mess.” Asher looked around at
the mass of people, made up mostly of children and old people gathered in
groups, each holding massive butterfly kites of their own. Some held remotes
that controlled the flight of the butterfly kites, both real and illusory.
Most of them, unfortunately, glittered and glowed the same primarily green
color that matched his mark’s hair.
Pinging your location, Vers purred in his ear after a moment of quiet while more and more people
filed onto the special moving sidewalk heading toward the restored MGM
Grand, singing and chanting as they moved. Oh! You aren’t far from the New Bellagio. One of these days I’m
going to get you there for a real upgrade instead of the crap the powers
that be keep sending you to.
“Vers –”
I mean it. You’re in a town right outside of Vegas, baby! Almost to
the cybernetic playground of the whole entire continent ever since the
redesign of the area. To get anything better you’d have to hop a
streaker across the Pacific to Japan. It’s amazing what they can do
with both artistry and circuitry.
“Whatever the fuck,” Asher grumbled, casting his gaze around.
He ignored the small vibration in his brain as the ocular implant adjusted
and repositioned, sending his mind a feed of information calculating the
height of the buildings and the large vehicles passing by.
Turning to a small three-story building to his right, Asher took three
fast, bounding steps then flexed his leg muscles. With a mechanical whisper,
he launched himself skywards, a blurred silver flash through the backdrop of
colorful fluttering kites, before he landed on the flat solar tiles of the
roof.
Bent over, he raced along the edges of the closely placed buildings,
jumping the odd ones that bordered on alleys, leaping up to the higher ones,
his eyes constantly searching, feeding him data so he could adjust his
flight.
He was contemplating going back to the ground and following her along the
crowded streets when he saw a blur of green headed away from the celebration
and toward a small, dark street that led away from the sound of laughter and
merriment.
There, in between a closed toy shop on one side and ironically, an adult
toy shop, was where his prey was fleeing.
To the left, Casanova, Vers confirmed softly with the just the right amount of sarcasm for the
nickname. And you better move swiftly. She’s about to head to a parking lot and
if she has her vehicle shielded, well, we are shit out of luck, Ash. If she
gets away, you’d be better off hitting a pleasure palace and getting
your freak on ‘cause that signal is going to be scattered and lost. And
I urge you to take advantage of the many wonderful and erotic amenities that
this run-down trash heap of a city provides. Besides, your cherry needs
plucking ‘cause that bitch is overripe.
About the Authors
Stephanie Burke is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning
author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.
From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually
confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to
pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do
more.
Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and
world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts,
an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing
cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied
legends and theories to improve her writing skills.
Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female
characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and
multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.
Areana Senoj is a multi-genre writer of erotic romance, paranormal, and sci-fi fantasy
fiction. She’s been an actress, singer, dancer, educator, and, briefly, a stay-at-home
“tennis, soccer, and band mom,” as well as a small business entrepreneur. Now she’s
enjoying a new career living life as a full-time writer. She’s thrilled to join Changeling
Press, where she’s teamed up with USA Today Best Selling Author Stephanie Burke,
co-authoring Motherboards and Magic.
Welcome to the Isulum Empire. Inflation is high, trust in the government is low, and unrest is growing. Here, oligarchs live offshore on superyachts with their pleasure androids, far from tax obligations and the crumbling, crime-ridden city center. The rest of the population retreats into the digital world of Parallel, a sanctuary that offers daily respite from the real world.
Many of Parallel’s users have rallied around the speaker Rita Shor, who challenges the empire’s class division and the injustices faced by women. Shor and her followers adamantly oppose the radical ideologies of another charismatic speaker, Doctor Gagarin Sokolo, who promotes extreme misogyny in an effort to address the empire’s declining birth rate.
Neither Shor nor Sokolo realizes that in the depths of Parallel, a team of hackers is working hard to unite their disparate followers under a singular purpose: to dismantle the Isulum Empire.
As Shor and Sokolo’s lives become further intertwined, the empire’s fate rests in their hands. But the price of victory may prove far greater than they ever imagined.
The stars look like dull old diamonds now, not like when we were young and would lie on the high desert dunes, feeling the chilly northern winds sweep the day’s heat away.
We could trace the swirling ribbon of the universe across the sky, asking each other why God would care about this hot little world on the edge of the Milky Way. How easy it used to be to find the star that, even in total darkness, could guide us back to the Ishti capital, far across the barren sand.
Since the forced migration, since entering the walled, foreign Empire of Isulum, I’ve lost sight of the stars we used to know. All I can see when I look up is an odd, murky hue, darkness saturated with artificial light, arid dust, and smog.
But on nights like this one, when the rolling blackouts sweep through the Diegan Blocks ghetto and the buzz of the neon ads outside of my grimy windows temporarily click off, I can climb to the roof of my apartment to escape the oppressive heat. If I’m lucky, I can catch a glimpse of a dim, winking star or two.
On nights like those, I look up at the stars and wonder, wherever you are, if your soul gazes at the stars too, surprised by how far we’ve gone from heaven.
Tonight, the rolling blackout silenced my rumbling air conditioning unit, allowing the stale hot air to smother my home.
A Waseda android waits with me in the darkness. She waits for the dark to pass and for the police to take me away. The purple Bors mark below her left eye that marks her as inhuman glows dimly, illuminating shadows about the room. Tonight, blood covers my body, adding a regretfully soothing, sticky sensation to my fingers.
It is a strange time to atone, my dear friend Auria, but I know that if my prayers have never before reached the ears of God, you’ll happily receive them. You see, I’ve been staring at my husband’s dead body for an hour now, his Waseda here beside me. And I’ve been too terrified to move.
Author Bio:
Q. Turner is a marketing professional for sustainable and renewable energy companies during the day and writes in the evenings.
Specializing in science fiction and short stories inspired by her global travels, Turner has recently penned her debut full-length science fiction novel, “Blood Sacrifice.”
Runners Justin Hale
Publication date: June 27th 2023
Genres: Cyberpunk, Science Fiction
A high octane, cyberpunk thrill ride that will have you hanging on to the edge of your seat!
On the planet Nera, a world of towering metropolises powered by nano technology and controlled by corporations, Mr. Zan and his misfit crew have trained for five years to be Omegas, the greatest and most elusive assassins on the planet. However, disillusioned with their mission, they went rogue and killed their handler, Nancy. Now, they run guns to survive, while racing to stay one step ahead of the living Shadows that hunt them. After a tragic, traumatic attack, Zan and his crew find themselves on the outs with Dietrich Boateng, one of the most powerful men on the planet.
But when Dietrich suddenly risks everything to warn them of a new, dangerous threat, events are set in motion that threaten to spiral out of their control. To make matters worse, Deputy Marshal Akira Sudo is hot on their trail, after a coverup leads her to believe that there is more to this case than meets the eye.
If they can complete Dietrich’s mission, they might secure the tools they need to survive the next Omegas that show up to exact revenge. If they don’t, they might not survive to see tomorrow. For fans of Neuromancer, Blade Runner, Ghost in the Shell, and Altered Carbon, this action-packed, dystopian Sci-Fi romp will leave you breathless and wanting more!
Justin Hale is an author who lives in the Bay Area of California with his wife, Candy, and crazy dog, Maya. He is originally from the small, coastal city of Brunswick, GA and is a diehard Georgia Bulldog football fan. After suffering a mental health crisis, Justin left his full-time job, using his recovery time to finish and release his debut novel, RUNNERS. In his free time, he enjoys video games, watching pro wrestling, and making his wife laugh.
Justin first wanted to be an author at seven years old. He participated in a class project to write letters to The Polar Express author Chris Van Allsburg. The project was to draw a picture of what the students thought Chris Van Allsburg looked like and to write him a small message. Justin drew a grey version of Frankenstein’s monster, writing “I didn’t know what you looked like, so I drew you as Frankenstein[‘s monster], because he is weird and so are you.” His teacher was not impressed, but the experience made him interested in becoming an author, even if it would take 30+ years to arrive at that goal.
Welcome to Berlin. Population: desperate. In the throes of the climate
crisis the green tech pioneers are king, and if you aren’t willing to be
their serf then you’re surplus to requirements.
Carbon credit for sleeping on the job. That’s the offer a dreamtech puts to
Mara Kinzig, and she jumps on it. After all, the city ain’t getting any
cheaper.
Then somebody changes the deal while she’s dreaming in the tank.
Now Mara has a body on her hands, an extra voice in her head, and the law
on her tail. Only the Vanguard, a Foreign Legion of outcasts seeking an
alternative path in the dust between the city states, might be able to help
her figure out what went wrong. First, though, she’ll have to escape the
seething streets of Berlin alive.
From the Author… How to Avoid the Rejection Blues
Before we get into this, let’s acknowledge one thing: Rejection is part of life. Unless you’re the dictator of some backwater archipelago with absolute control over your subjects, you can’t govern how another person will receive what you’ve created. Humans are complex, you know. They have good days and bad days. They’re susceptible to different moods. They get hangry. Being persistent in writing comes from accepting this. That short story you spent six months honing until it’s as sharp as a razor blade might be fantastic, but if an editor didn’t have their coffee that morning, there’s a chance they’ll punch the form rejection button just to get back at the world. Not your fault. Not the editor’s. Literature is like astrology: the stars and planets have to align. Moon conjunct Pluto, that kind of thing.
With that out of the way, here are five ways to avoid the rejection blues.
Go for a bracing walk
Sound simple? You’re dead wrong. The trick is this: It either has to be freezing cold or extremely warm outside. For the former, make sure not to wear a jacket. For the latter, put that sunscreen back on the shelf and don’t even think about popping a hat on your head. Then walk around aimlessly for an hour. When you return home, you’ll be feeling miserable, but that’s thanks to hyperthermia or dehydration/sunburn, not because your 900-page opus about a corn-farming family in Iowa was rejected.
Watch some videos of baby elephants frolicking on YouTube
Everyone likes elephants. Well, except hunters, but they’re not human. Five separate agents shoot down your satirical novel about sexy clones this week? Time to open the valve on the Internet Content Pipe and gorge yourself on perky pachyderms. Those baby elephants don’t care that your manuscript probably needs another polish, and neither should you. I mean, you should, but not now. Now you feast.
Read The Circle by Dave Eggers
Leaf through the pages of this bestselling novel. Characters more wooden than the Mayflower, unrealistic dialogue, paper-thin plot piggybacking on then-current events, a jejune message hammered home on every page. Take heart. If something as insipid as this can find a publisher and shift a billion copies, there’s hope for your space werewolf trilogy yet, my friend.
Buy yourself some doughnuts
Just received a rejection email where the magazine didn’t even bother to address you personally? It’s time for doughnuts. Buy a box of six and have a good old bite each time you feel the forces of self-flagellation gathering at the base of your skull. Once you hit that fourth ‘nut, you’ll either be riding a sugar high or ready to puke.
Write something new
Write the truest thing you can. A sentence, a paragraph, a full piece from start to end. Then permit yourself to feel good about it. Remember: You’re doing this for you, not for anyone else.
About the Author
Grant Price is the author of three novels: Static Age (2016), By the Feet
of Men (2019) and Reality Testing (2022).
