Another teaser from a work-in-progress. 77,000 words and no title, yet.
Chapter 203
Anuraga, The Dust Cloud
Mason Fowlkes went straight from lunch to a partially shut-down docking terminal, its boarding passage absent of patrons, occupied only by a shipwright replacing airlock seals.
Mason told him, “I’m going out of slot five in a few minutes for a podcast interview. I’m cleared with the house, but …”
Portugal’s time zone was an hour behind Serbia, the sky still illuminated by the last rays of a setting sun; making it imprudent to land Advaita Vedanta in an alley, invisibility technology notwithstanding.
Brandon Lopez should have flown the van, a mistake painfully evident upon deboarding, unremedied by sending the spaceboat off to a parking slot in orbit.
Maryanne Orsa’s one-hundred-eighty-two-year-old English/Norwegian/AjJivadi mother, Lisbet Porter, met him at one end of the alley with a tiny dog on a leash and an admonishing tone in her voice. “Did I just see you land a spaceboat seven blocks from where I’m living?”
He cringed. “I’m an idiot.”
“That’s what you are.” She gestured. “Let’s get moving before the neighbors show up.”
Seriously. I’m at 43,000 words and I don’t have a title.Here’s a teaser from Chapter 109.
The White House, Washington DC
It was four miles from the White House to a bar and grille in Arlington, where an Ivy League educated economist had been ensconced for the past hour-and-a half.
Carmen boarded the same housekeeping maroli she’d used twice, once earlier in the day, for the purpose of signing documents in her own hand. The machine was off-duty, in a dark closet, sipping nutrition through a straw out of a crushable plastic box.
She wiggled her avatar into the maroli’s form factor, arms operating two large tentacles on the top row, saying, “Hello again. Are you finished with supper?”
It tossed the box into a waste bin. “This device has eaten.”
An evocative adventure/love story from the author of The Illusion of Gravity.
In 1966 Manila, an American teenager courts a CIA recruit several years his senior. It’s a mismatch, a scandal. When she ships out, it’s over. Maybe.
An uncommon spin on the coming-of-age theme, informed by the author’s upbringing in mid-century Asia. Mature content, Young Adult appropriate. Value-positive, about good character as a strategy for creating a successful life. An immersive journey to a time and place now gone forever.
Just this week, I learned my novels have been mis-appropriated by an overseas book-pirate, upon whose website hundreds of titles are offered for free — unless you make a donation, in which case less free, except I still don’t get paid.
It’s not supposed to happen to unknown authors. Obviously, we’re talking about a thief with a discerning eye. “This guy’s going to be famous,” he’s telling himself. “I’m getting in on the ground floor.”
Not to say I approve. I filed complaints, but Icelanders are notorious for this activity, untouchable by their laws, much less ours. I have no illusions that anything will be done.
Reincarnation! It’s not just for Buddhists anymore!
In the solitary middle of his years, Glenn Mehrenholz begins to dream about the temple of Hera at Paestum in the old, old days when southern Italy was part of Greece. There, standing upon a shiny marble floor (not a ruin, like it is today), a furry, foxlike lady speaking Sanskrit says she knows him by another name.
Spooky, right? You might wonder, “Why Sanskrit instead of Greek or Latin?” If so, high marks. You must have paid attention in eighth grade.
Things happen. Exciting things. Things you’ll want to know about. For instance, aliens from another planet get themselves outed by the U.S. Air Force, whereupon they confess to having colonized Earth during the last Ice Age — although not in a bad way.
“Surprise!” say the furry aliens. (Remember the lady in the first paragraph?) “We’re here! Always have been. Sorry. It was a secret.”
In due time, the concept’s existential threats are trotted out. (1) Impending cosmic disaster. (2) A power struggle on nearby Jivada. (3) The Unseen are stirring in their nest, which could be a problem for everybody. According to authors I follow on the Internet, every tale needs tension. I made sure to include plenty of it.
So, by way of explainment, I refer you to what happened to the Dalai Lama, who was recognized as the reincarnation of the previous Dalai Lama when he was two years old. Right there, in real life, a person’s normal existence was replaced with a noble quest, whether he liked it or not.
This is what’s happening to Glenn. He’s a ghost of ancient Vidura, an instrument of destiny, a man with worlds to save.
Don’t say it’s preposterous. I just demonstrated, with facts, how it isn’t.
It’s an epic story. I should know. I made it all up myself. Are you shopping for books with happy endings? Our hero marries a neurologist ten years his junior, although that’s not actually how it ends. You still have to read the book.
Notwithstanding what I just said, Ghosts of Ancient Vidura really is literary Sci-Fi. All my titles are #kindleunlimited. Click below to read a few chapters for free!
After a few weeks working on the ninth (and presumably last) volume in the Anye Universe books, I’ve decided to give it a rest. The fourth book has lain fallow long enough for a fresh restart, so that’s what I’ll do until inspired to switch horses again.
Here’s a look at the first chapter of Vacuum Forged after some brutal cutting. Who knows what it’ll look like a month from now.
Part 1 – Chapter 0
First House, Planet Vidura, 70,000 BCE
Upon the sixth anniversary of First House’s instantiation, Master Sa summoned his three most important cub-school students to tell them what they were.
Spring was early in the Northern Reach. The scent of young blossoms drifted through parlor doors. Birdsong rang in the air. Tree pollen tickled noses. It was all, said Master Sa, an artful deception. “We call it the Anodyne Virtuality.”
Intelligent and entertaining stories developed for a thoughtful audience.
What if science was to prove the doctrine of the immortal soul? Amil Leyta intended to work in orbital manufacturing, but his studies have taken an unexpected turn. He’s built a device that images the essence of life, evoking the discovery that there’s more than one type of soul.
They appear on his monitor at deathbed vigils, shining bright across the boundary between dimensions. He imagines they’re angels, guiding spirits to the between-life, and wonders if the Gods will allow what he must do next.
Last year, I created a posable flying house model in Blender for a book cover, thinking I might later use it in Unreal Engine. I have since discovered there aren’t enough hours in the day for me to develop that skill set.
But it’s a cool model. Maybe there’s someone who’d like to fool around with it. There’s a narrative universe, and associated character art begging to be modeled and rigged. For a look at that, click here. For the story behind the model, click here.
Let’s share an experience. It won’t take more than a minute unless you want it to. Call it a favor, an act of generosity. Click in the box below the image where it says ‘Free Preview’.
Read a page or two. See what happens. I’ve been writing for ten years. This is my best work. It deserves an audience.
John Dyer Writes 
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