As you can see from a look at the three sections I have used different cadences and styles in the sections in order to create more reader interest and give a distinct feel to each of the threads. Here’s a third section:
Jurgen Fried wore the green cloak with pride as he made his way through the congregation. They too were decked in green. Green was the colour of plants and of the Earth. Green was the mother of colours. It was the spectrum of the producers that gave life to everything. Green was the symbol of all that was pure; of the mother from which they had sprung.
Reaching the platform he solemnly mounted the steps and then turned to face the joyous congregation he raised his hands in the air and proclaimed the truth to the faithful –
‘The Earth lives!’
They roared their agreement. The Earth did indeed live. They were the sons and daughters of Terra.
‘We sprang from the soil,’ Jurgen announced looking up towards the heavens.
‘We will return to the soil.’ He looked down at the ground. It was all very theatrical and dramatic. The liturgy of Gaia followed a set format. Part of its appeal was that they shared this routine; they were part of it in brotherhood and sisterhood of Terra.
Gaia had asserted itself into the vacuum that had been left in human nature by progressing into the scientific culture after the old religions had been left behind. Science had partially filled the gap but had failed to answer all the questions of the mystery of life. Human psychology required something more – some ritual – something based on irrational belief – something that satisfied that quest for purpose and explanation as well as something that created that bonding, that tribal sense of belonging that humans seemed to crave. Gaia, with its richness of ceremony, symbolism and sense of purpose filled that gap.
Its very nature was satisfying and reassuring. In this age of synthetics and sanitised life, totally separated from nature, there was a need to reconnect to the primeval forces from which life had emerged. People wanted a psychological and spiritual connection. They wanted something mystical and metaphysical that connected them to the universe and linked them in to a force that was much greater than themselves. There was almost a desperation to believe in a spiritual power outside of themselves.
Gaia proclaimed that there was such a force and it flowed through them, the planet and out through the whole universe. Everything lived. There was a cosmic dynamo and they could all be one with it.
Gaia gave them belief in a greater spiritual entity that gave purpose to their lives.
Gaia filled all those basic human needs.
They wanted it.
They craved it.
They felt reborn in it.
Jurgen could feel that passion and devout fervour welling up to him from the crowd below as he stood on his platform, and he channelled it into himself and back to them, magnified tenfold. He fed off the energy coming up from them and he reflected it back to the ecstatic crowd in a great rapturous wave of sheer pleasure. He felt the power soar inside him and was exhilarated by it.
‘The planet lives!’ Jurgen proclaimed as the crowd went wild.
‘We are one with the planet!’
It truly felt as if they really were. The feeling of oneness and elation of belonging was overwhelming. Even Jurgen could sense it and was beginning to believe there might be a basis to it. He was in danger of becoming a devotee himself. That would be quite something!
Gaia was a force to be reckoned with.
‘The planet lives!!’
His spirit rose up, carried by the mountainous roar coming up from the faithful below.
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Here’s a second taster:
Julia Rogers was the ultimate in Hipster designers and she certainly looked the part. Her appearance, with its writhing scarlet medusa hair, dresses made of living material that transformed into swirls of psychedelic colour that interacted with the mutable splashes of vividly coloured transition tattoos that flowed and swirled across her skin, was every bit as extreme and garish as the vibrant Holographic designs for which she was renowned. It made for uneasy family reunions with the rather conventional father who had made his name and fortune mining the asteroids. John ‘Buck’ Rogers was quite a pillar of society and his daughter’s chosen lifestyle proved difficult to swallow. That was probably why they rarely met up. She tended to keep her distance and he was rarely on planet. It suited them both.
Julia took her usual precautions. It was part of the game. She knew that the bureau kept tabs on her; they kept tabs on anyone who was not main-stream. She also knew that they closely monitored Josie even more closely. That was the way of the world. She’d even discussed it with Josie while knowing full well that their conversation was probably being listened to. But they were old hands at the game and knew the score. As long as they kept their business low-key and followed the protocol they knew they would be left alone. So Julia played her role and went through the motions.
She disembarked from her scudcab at the supermart, walked briskly through to the other side and flicked for another. It dropped her off a block away from Josie’s. She walked to the aperture resisting all inclination to look around her, glanced at the iris recorder and stepped into the vestibule as the aperture slid open.
She always followed the same routine. She figured that they expected it of her. There was a game to be played.
Josie had a limited clientele and deliberately kept it that way. She figured that her small enterprise would be tolerated but if she got too greedy they would soon be taking her in for reprogramming. Besides, she liked it this way. It was more personal, more of a family business that operated between associates and friends. She had no desire to expand the operation. She made a comfortable living out of it and enjoyed herself into the bargain. What more could one want? She’d found her niche. She provided for her small group who she regarded more as personal friends than clients and the authorities let her alone.
‘Hi Jules,’ she said in way of greeting, looking genuinely pleased to see her, gesturing towards a pexicush and passing her a vessel of red liquid. ‘Try some of this.’
Julie accepted the vessel, sniffed and took a sip. They made quite a contrast, the two girls – Julie with her extreme Avant Garde appearance and Josie, equally striking with her dark complexion and large hair, but in a much more conventional garb.
‘J675,’ Josie explained, sitting herself down on a nearby pexicush and sipping a similar beverage. ‘It’s got some strange name but I can’t remember what.’ She laughed. ‘I just remember the code to dial it up. Bren introduced me to it. I just adore the taste and it’s a great pick me up – restores all the vital juices to homeostatic equilibrium according to Bren.’ She chuckled again. ‘I don’t know about that. It just tastes good and does me a power of good. That’s all I know and it’s all I care to know.’
Julie took a sip. The flavour exploded on her tongue and caused her whole mouth to tingle. She swallowed it and felt the strange sensation spread down to her stomach. ‘Is it legal?’ She enquired with raised eyebrows.
Josie laughed. ‘Yes. Perfectly legal and extremely healthy. If it catches on it will be putting me out of business I think.’
‘I doubt that,’ Julie said, sitting back into her pexicush and taking another large sip. ‘But it is rather flavoursome.’
They spent a pleasant half hour sipping drinks and hanging out.
‘So what are you up to?’ Josie finally got round to asking.
‘Well that’s why I’m here,’ Julie replied with a smile. ‘I’ve got a big installation I’m working on. Honkers have commissioned me, well at least, approached me for a trial.’
‘Wow! Going up in the world, girl.’
‘I know,’ Julie agreed. ‘It is quite a big project. Honkers would take it to a whole new audience. I guess you could say it’s my big opportunity.’
‘Is that what you want Jules?’ Josie asked with a concerned expression. ‘You don’t think that might take it somewhere you don’t want to go?’
There was a lot left unsaid. They both knew what a cut-throat world it was out there. The pressures were immense. Once you were in that pool it became a whole new ballgame. Lives changed.
Julie laughed and then became very serious. She swirled the red liquid around in her glass thoughtfully while she contemplated her answer.
‘I’ve thought about it lots,’ Julie said, looking up at Josie. ‘I don’t want the fame and pressure. I’ve seen that with my Dad. That’s the last thing I want. I don’t need the money either. I make enough to get by and live comfortably as it is.’ She diverted her eyes back to her drink. ‘But I do want it for myself.’ Her eyes rose to meet Josie’s eyes and held them. ‘I want to prove to myself that my art is up there with the best, that I can hold my own. Is that wrong?’
Josie shook her head. ‘No. It’s not wrong. I just don’t think you’ve got anything to prove on that score, girl. You know you’re already up there with anyone in the system.’
‘Yeah,’ Josie replied slowly, contemplating the issue, looking at it from all sides. ‘But I guess I need to prove that to myself.’
Josie shrugged and slowly rose from her seat. ‘OK, girl, just as long as you know what you are doing. Beware the big boys and girls. They play dirty and they’re not nice.’
‘I know that. I’ll be careful.’
‘So what do you need?’
‘I reckon this installation will take me about a week,’ Julie explained. ‘I’ll need something to keep my energy levels high throughout. Something to aid my concentration and something that’ll get my mind right out there and motoring. The last stuff you gave me was just the job.’
‘Hmmm,’ Josie pondered the requirements. ‘You know I think I’ve got something that will do the trick nicely. Some mind flippers that could be even better than that last batch.’ She began dialling in details on a private dispensor, concentrating hard. When she was satisfied she pressed the screen and fourteen capsules emerged. Josie bagged them up and handed them to Julie who slipped them into her purse.
‘Take care with those, Jules,’ Josie advised. ‘They are very strong. I’ve mixed in the wham and something to maintain your focus. The flippers are right out there. They’ll give you a right psychedelic sunshine. They’ll get you buzzing and give you just the zingy trip you are looking for. I wouldn’t normally give such a strong dose but you are experienced.’ She busied herself with her apparatus again and produced a number of other pills. ‘If you find you need to come down, if things get too heavy, take one of these,’ she handed Julie the pills and Julia stashed them away with the others. ‘If you want to come right out of it take two.’
‘OK, thanks,’ Julie said, adjusting her purse. ‘I’ll credit your account.’
‘No problem,’ Josie said casually, casting a look of caution. ‘Just take care. They are very strong. And make sure to drink and eat. It’s easy to forget. Get that all sorted before you start. I don’t want you bumming out and being carted off to the medos.’
Julie laughed. ‘Thanks Josie. I’ll take care. I’m sure they’re just what I need. Thank you.’
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A further taster of the new Sci-fi book:
The Bureau of Internal Affairs was a huge enterprise operating throughout the entire interplanetary system. It employed tens of thousands of people. Most were operatives embedded in the field; others were overseeing operations at a local level. The whole institute was an arm of central government, the United Nations, and effectively managed by a command team of just three people – all highly experienced ex-agents. Their office was buried in the basement of the UN central building based in the municipal complex that used to be York in Europe. The only way in was through a fast drop lift. Inside it was Spartan but equipped with every possible piece of technology known to man. From that office these three controlled the activities of their army of agents spread the length and breadth of the system.
Keith Marley sat with his feet up on his desk drinking what passed for coffee. At least they still called it coffee, though the food and drink that came out of the dispensor bore little resemblance to anything that had once been living. It was, like all other types of nutrition emanating from the dispensor, synthesised from the same flow of chemicals that was piped to all dispensors throughout the federation. They were supposed to taste the same as the real thing, though only the extreme elite got to verify that from personal experience. The nearest that coffee had ever been to a real coffee bean was when its constituents were piped close to one of the elite’s offices. But the dispensors were pretty amazing. Everyone took them for granted. One could supposedly order up anything one wanted and the machine would combine the chemicals to create the texture, flavour and visual qualities of the real thing. Few believed that though, and certainly the coffee was not considered one of its greatest achievements. Still, the coffee did the job. It tasted acrid enough and certainly perked up the nervous system and Keith had taken a liking to it.
Glenda May and Jeff Lennon were sprawled in their pexicushes with their own personalised drinks, all looking equally bored and perplexed.
This was fairly typical. This is what passed for a high-level meeting by their standards.
They were the covert arm of the United Nations – the centralised government that operated throughout the entire system. This government was elected democratically and operated without opposition to serve the whole of humanity – all three hundred billion of them spread over Terra, Lunar, Mars, Venus, Europa, Ganymede, Titan plus a batch of the larger asteroids, in what was a complex federation.
To say it was without opposition was a bit of an ask. Not everyone liked the idea of a centralised government. In fact, many deeply resented the whole concept and did not believe that it either operated fairly or in the best interests of humanity. Disparate factions wanted to break away from the federation and set up their own separate systems. These separationists formed political, religious or nationalistic groups who were intent on destabilising, opposing and gaining separation from the federation. Most of these factions were small, disorganised and peaceful and so were simply tolerated and ignored. Some were not quite so small, disorganised or peaceful. They had to be monitored and carefully managed.
This is where the BIA came in. Officially the BIA did not exist, at least not as an covert operation with tendrils extending into every pie in the system, but in practice their job was to ensure that none of these disruptive organisations grew too large or became too much of a problem. To that end the disaffected were ‘managed’. The BIA, on the surface a level of bureaucratic government, was in reality a coordinated system of surveillance, assassination and espionage. The ‘office’ was the nerve centre. Their job was to make problems disappear by whatever means. There were no limits.
‘So who is this Jesus De Monde?’ Glenda May asked, frowning across at Keith. ‘I’ve never heard of him.’
Glenda was in her fifties now and had been a long-serving operative, as had the other two. She, like both of the others, kept up a strict healthy lifestyle and fitness regime and it showed. Her slender frame belied the strength and dexterity of her body. She required very little genetic augmentation or biochem work. The superlative level of her fitness and training was only revealed through the fluid movements of her body as she sat back in her pexicush and sipped the blue fluid which was her drink of choice, chosen to supply all the electrolytes necessary to optimise her system and provide a bit of a kick.
Keith pursed his lips and shrugged. Looking across at Glenda and fixing her blue eyes. He allowed a smile to crinkle the corners of his eyes. They got on well, despite the fact that they did not always see eye to eye, and were not averse to seeking each other out for some extracurricular socialisation and sexual relief. Working for the BIA did not make for a normal type of home life, particularly when working in the field. Many operatives fell into perfunctory relationships with fellow operatives. It was the norm. Keith knew that he was not alone in finding Glenda’s blonde hair and multi-layered personality attractive. She and Jeff were often an item too. Glenda definitely went for the rugged types and seemingly both he and Jeff fitted the bill when the need arose.
‘I received a briefing from on high,’ Keith informed both of them. ‘They want us to add him to our list, that’s all. I don’t think there are any major concerns as of the moment. But he’s certainly one to watch for the future.’
‘I have heard of him,’ Jeff Lennon remarked. He was the taller of the two men, dark skinned with a mass of curly hair. He made quite a contrast to Keith’s shorter, stockier build, short red hair and freckles. Jeff had the carriage of a man who had been brought up in the asteroids with a casual turn to his body as if he had been raised light as a feather, without the encumbrance of too much gravity. He’d, with the aid of augmentation and biochem modification, adapted to higher gravity but still retained the fluidity of his youth. ‘He’s one of those charismatic religious nutcases. He was developing a bit of a following on Titan, I seem to remember.’
‘They don’t want us to disappear him then?’ Glenda asked, looking across at Jeff and weighing up the situation.
Keith knocked back the remains of his coffee. ‘Not yet,’ he affirmed. ‘I’ve just put out a general surveillance,’ He threw the drinking vessel into the disposal chute with unerring precision, slung his legs down off the desk and rose to his feet. ‘I guess he’s been getting a bit too big for his boots. We’re to keep an eye on him.’
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Thank you to all of you who rushed out and bought my new Sci-fi book Conexion! It is very heartening! I hope you enjoy the story. Please leave a review on Amazon.
All comments welcome!
Help push it to become a number one bestseller!!
For those who haven’t yet purchased a copy there are some links below:
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This novel took a while to come together. I had to carefully plot it out before starting and that took some time. There were a number of ideas, seemingly unrelated, that had to coalesce together. They finally did.
One was the idea of a drug that latched on to DNA and opened up racial memories that were stored in that DNA. It enabled people to go back into the consciousness of their ancestors.
Another came from the thoughts of the Creationists who do not believe human beings evolved.
Along with crazy hipster designers, an overbearing political scene and an asteroid or three, plus some aliens, a starship and a lot of intrigue, it all came together as a story.
I liked the ending.
I hope you like it!
All comments welcome!
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These are the liner notes:
In the future it is still all about power.
General Secretary Rheen holds the reins but does he hold the power?
What about the shadowy Consortium who supply the money to get him elected?
The separatists who are prepared to use violence?
The Unification Movement who would bring the opposition together?
Or the people who democratically vote?
What of the stranded Starship?
And what of the new drug Conexion that opens genetic memories to unlock an unexpected past? T
he new Gaia religion?
Or the three massive spherical objects heading for earth?
How will it all come to a conclusion?
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I am delighted to have this book out in print at last. It has taken me a while getting it written, rewritten and edited and I am very pleased with the end result.
Here’s the opening section to tickle your palate:
Chapter 1 – As it was
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James Hendrix, better known as Jimi to everyone who knew him, noted the first indication at precisely 2.37 and 37 seconds on May 30th 2249.
It was a date that was to go down in history as one of the most auspicious events ever recorded, even though at the time Jimi thought little of it and paid it scant attention.
That was not surprising. Warnings went off routinely as every lump of rock or piece of space junk that was heading anywhere near an inhabited planet was flagged up. Most were of little consequence and would simply burn up in the atmosphere but a few were big enough to cause concern and had to be dealt with. That’s why the agency had been set up.
Jimi assigned the latest intruder a signature code – JHUMA91074 – then he left it to its automatic tracking system and went back to playing Solum with the station’s computer.
JH were his initials, UMA stood for Ursa Major, the segment of space from which the object was first recorded coming in. It was quite an unusual one as could be seen from the low number of recorded warnings, 91074 indicated the number of objects that had originated from that sector.
Once assigned, the computer continued to plot the trajectory and that was normally where the whole matter ended. Most of the debris was considered of no risk and was merely monitored, never to be heard of again. People like Jimi performed the mundane task of acknowledging the warning just as a fail-safe. The Public did not like the idea of there not being a human touch somewhere along the line. They felt that humans should make the decisions even though it had been well proven that computers were far better at it.
There wasn’t a great deal of excitement to be had in Jimi’s work. Being an astrophysicist had sounded great when he’d opted for the training but wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Jimi worked for the AEWC – the Asteroid Early Warning Centre – in its favour, it paid well and at least got one up into vacuum even if that’s as far as it went. For the most part his work consisted of spending long tedious hours on his own every night, pointlessly acknowledging things of no significance that the computer had already done, and vainly hoping for an event of significance to finally take place so that there was at least something to get excited over. The sad fact was that even if a major event did occur then all Jimi had to do was ensure that the computer had passed the information on to his superiors, which it routinely did anyway – so even that wasn’t exactly thrilling.
It was not a pleasant thing to realise that one was in effect redundant and surplus to requirements, so Jimi tried not to think about it too much, which was why he spent most of his time playing games with the computer. Even that enterprise was futile – about as pointless as checking space junk. He knew the computer could beat him hands down every time if it had not been programmed to limit its capabilities in order to give him a fighting chance. Still, it whiled the hours away.
Jimi had not paid too much attention to this particular intrusion other than to note that the object was far too far away at this point in time to be of any importance, so he did not have to register it into his consciousness or grant it a moment’s speculation as to what it might be. A minor niggle did reach the surface of his thoughts; if it was far away and yet had registered it had to be big. But hey, space was full of lumps of rock and the majority of them were of absolutely no significance. Space was big. As long as they did not cross routes or threaten planets they could be disregarded.
It goes to show, doesn’t it? There’s no limit to how wrong a person might be!
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I am using a different type of cover with what I see as a more modern design. This is the second I have released in this series. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think.
I like the strength of the black. I wanted something that reflected the Sci-fi feel of the novel. I also thought the colours went well.
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It became apparent to me that with so many books in so many genres there was an element of confusion.
My intention is to bring out the best of my Sci-fi under a pen name.
I am going to select the best of my existing Sci-fi books, re-edit them, give them a different cover, take them down from their existing format and put them out under the umbrella of my pen name Ron Forsythe.
I selected this name because it is the forename of my father and the maiden name of my mother. I thought it was appropriate to honour them.
My latest book – Conexion – is the second to come out in this format.
It would be good to hear your thoughts!
Here’s a couple of links:
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