Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

I’m at a secret underground facility in Los Alamos, where America’s best and brightest toy with the very underpinnings of reality.  Suddenly I hear:  “JOHNSON YOU IGNORANT FOOL!”  The accusation comes from the Chief Scientist:  a red-face, chalk-brandishing, bespectacled nerd.  Johnson, another nerd—same lab coat, coke-bottle thick lenses, demure-looking pocket protector—looks up from the reams of equations that run across the chalkboard like Good Will Hunting’s wet dream.  He’s just finished etching an alien symbol into the midst of the obscure geek-scrawl, and now looks up from his work, miffed and irritated.  His accuser yells, “THAT’S THE WRONG NUMERICA!”  The next thing I know, a rip in the very fabric of space-time appears in the middle of the open-floored research bay.  A flood of Social Justice Warriors come pouring out, all armed with manifestos and super bright, look-at-me-I’m-a-righteous-d-bag hair.  They begin reading from the cheap paper handouts in their hands, extolling the virtues of thinly veiled, blanket condemnations which lack any semblance of conclusions arrived at through critical thinking.  The people in their immediate vicinity clutch their heads, bow at the waist as if they’re experiencing the world’s worst migraine, then straighten and scream.  Their skin desiccates, and their eyes bulge out like your cartoon mind might expect from someone floating through outer space without a suit.  The top half of their heads explodes, leaving gruesome, red-cragged pieces of jawbone gushing out arterial spurts of blood.  They collapse as the rest of us who are further away get knocked bass ackwards from a concussive wave of Social Justice Warrior horse puckey.  Chief Scientist runs up to me and grabs me by the shoulders.  In that wonderfully nasal tone possessed by all scientist stereotypes, he shouts, “KENT!  WE CAN INVERT THEIR EINSTEIN-ROSEN BRIDGE WITH YOUR HELP!  IF WE UTILIZE THE NTH DIMENSIONAL ENERGY IN YOUR READING DEVICE, WE CAN BOOST THE ALREADY MASSIVE GRAVITATIONAL PULL OF YOUR PHALLUS.  IT SHOULD THEORETICALLY DE-INSTANTIATE THE SJWS AND CLOSE OFF THE PORTAL!!!”  “I have no idea what you just said,” I reply.  He smacks me across the face and screams, “OPEN YOUR EREADER AND WHIP OUT YOUR PIECE, DAMMIT!”  I unleash the Kraken (come on, we all name ’em—it’s not a secret) and open my eReader to Echo.  Magic flash.  The SJWs spaghettify and throw yawning, baleful looks at me from their stretched-out faces, moments before their body becomes unrecognizably thin.  They all swirl back into the hole and wink out of existence.  Chief Scientist collapses onto his butt and sighs.  He looks at my dangling flesh-mace and raises an eyebrow.  “Jesus—doesn’t the size of that thing cause you problems?”  I shrug.  “I get pee stains on my socks instead of my undies.  You get used to it.”

For every secret lab, Science states that there’s a 5.9% chance that reality itself will be endangered by the Nerds’ damn-fool meddling.  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle  Vol. 3 on Kindle here:  Vol. 3 on Kindle


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