Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

The winter is cold, the nights are long…

And the bugs are huge.

Perhaps you’ve avoided my fate.  Perhaps you’ve managed to climb the corporate ladder and hold onto your sanity, as well as your sex drive.  Perhaps you’ve never experienced a night where you’ve utterly exhausted yourself by mercilessly beating the skin of a heavy bag, then masturbated yourself to sleep, all the while crying and wailing like a colicky baby.

99 point repeating 9s percent of the time, when you work at a giant-ass corporation like the one I worked for—All World Compliance—you either slither and slime your way up the corporate ladder, throwing yourself into after-hours functions until you’re nothing more than a wasted husk that survives on ambien and lexapro, or you court the fate that I mentioned above.  One or the other.

But that’s not what happened to me.  As soon as my bosses realized I was a creative guy who liked to stay in shape, they targeted me for “extradimensional reassignment.”  They realized that I wasn’t gonna kowtow to their endless flood of TPS reports, cobb salads, receding hairlines, and unhealthy sperm counts.  So one day, they roofied my protein shake, took me down to the basement, and threw me into The Portal That Breathes—an undulating gateway into a distant world known as The Freeze.

Now, after three long years of surviving off tundra weed and glace cats, my former coworkers have fucking come for me.

As I’m taking a piss on my favorite mound of snow, the air rips open fifty yards to my left.  I glance over at it and my mind is assaulted by colors without names, as well as a split-second symphony of unearthly sounds.  Thirty of my coworkers come piling out, all dressed in tactical assault gear.  FUCK!

I direct my pee-stream onto one of their faces.  He screams in agony as the pee freezes his features together.  My triumph is shortlived; I dive left, stuffing my hog into my pants as 5.56 ammunition chews up the snow to my left and my right.  I hear them calling out commands and hustling to and fro as they cut off my avenues of potential escape.

A megaphone-amplified voice declares:  “ADMIRABLE, KENT WAYNE!  WE EXPECTED TO FIND YOU FROZEN IN PLACE, ENTOMBED BY THE ELEMENTS!”

I cup my hand around my mouth and holler back:  “YEAH, WELL MY UNBELIEVABLY LARGE WIENER ISN’T JUST A BODY PILLOW; IT ALSO SERVES AS A THERMIC GENERATOR!  DUE TO ITS SIZE AND VITALITY, I’VE MANAGED TO KEEP YOUR ILL-INTENTIONED PLANS FROM COMING TO FRUITION!  YOU WOULDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SIZE AND VITALITY, THOUGH, WOULD YOU—YOU POWERPOINT-LOVING FUCKS!”

“ENOUGH TALK!  THIS FARCE HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH!  SUBMIT TO OUR AFTER-HOURS MIXERS, ALONG WITH OUR WATER-COOLER TALK OF THIRTY-YEAR MORTGAGES AND TRENDING NETFLIX SHOWS!”

“NEVER!” I scream.  “YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS!”

And then I open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Their eyes go blank as their minds fill with their eventual fates:  meager promotions which they grovel and debase themselves for, spouses cheating on them with personal trainers, ambien addiction adderall addiction lifeless-genitalia-unending-mocchachinolattes-ungrateful-kids-who-engage-in-“jackass”-style-stunts-where-they-jump-off-a-balance-beam-with-a-rope-attached-to-their-scrotum-and-rip-their-nuts-off-in-the-process—

“NYAAAAHHH!!!”

“AHGODMAKEITSTOP!!!”

“I CAN’T STAND ANOTHER JENNIFER ANISTON ROMCOM WHERE SHE PLAYS A SWEET, KLUTZY GIRL WITH ONE OR TWO ‘URBAN’ FRIENDS AND EVENTUALLY FINDS LOVE IN A TALL, WASPY MATE AFTER HAVING A BUNCH OF ZANY, MILDLY EDGY ADVENTURES WITH HIM!  OH SWEET JESUS!”

I run out from cover, beat the piss out of their team leader, quickly divest him of weapons and gear, then sprint over to my carapace-sled, which I carved out of a bug-creature’s hide a few months back.  As I climb aboard it and slide down an icy hill, a mile-wide grin splits my face.

The adventures of Kent Wayne—sci-fi author, perennial Man Child, and Wasteland Adventurer—continue!  Ha HA!  😀

 

Have your coworkers abandoned you to an icy hell-realm, and have now come to fill your ass full of 5.56?  Never fear!  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  Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here:  Combined Edition  If you wanna hear me babble on about anything and everything, and strain my FREAKIN’ BRAIN, then here’s a link to my podcast:  Strained Brains!  It is on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, and Google Play!  Please give it a listen and a five-star review!  Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human:  Optimization, and last but not least, my buddy Jumar Balacy has made a supercool microsite at kentwaynebrain.com!  Go check out his computer-based wizardry  🙂 🙂 😀

Hold on!  I just got approved to be an Amazon affiliate!  If you’re going to buy ANY product from Amazon, and you’d like to support my efforts for absolutely free, then simply click on one of the Echo links I’ve provided—they’ll send you to Echo’s Amazon page—and THEN buy whatever product you wish.  Amazon gives me a small referral fee each time this happens!  In this manner you can support my books, musings, podcast, zany ads, or my adventures along the noble path known as The Way of The Man Child WITHOUT spending any more money than you were already going to!  Should you do this, I vow to send you a silent blessing, causing your genitals to adopt the optimum size, shape, smell, and death-ray attachment of choice that paralyzes your enemies with fear and envy!  Entire worlds will bow before your nether parts!  😲💪 😜

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