Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

I stare at my upturned hand as my inner forearm panel hinges open, revealing an intricate network of circuitry, alloy, and hard-light fibers.  The words CALIBRATED AND SYNCED blink across the center of my vision as needlepoint interfaces withdraw from my forearm.  The panel hinges shut.  I flex my fingers in front of my face, turning my re-tuned hand back and forth.

Damn, it feels good to be a cyborg.

I step out of my tech cradle.  “Exactica.”  That’s my robotica AI’s boot-phrase.

A transparent, wireframe semblance of a vaguely female face appears in the upper right corner of my vision.  “Greetings, Kent Wayne.  How was your hypno-sleep?”

“Short.  What year is it?”

“3020.  In accordance with your design, you have been summoned to guard Novelty.”

I open my mouth as wide as I can, wincing as I shove a finger past my lips and hold down the lower molar—it’s a bio-memetic trigger—on the left side of my jaw.  A second later, bladed vambraces emerge along the edges of my forearms.  The blades resemble an interwoven hive of long-curved razors, beautiful and dangerous all at once.  Servomotors emerge from the sides of my ankles, shoring up my legs with flickering lines of motion-boosting circuitry.  Last but not least, a pair of bayoneted pistols form on my hips, imprinted with Quick Draw Industries’ scope-reticle logo.

“How much time do I—”

“None.  This containment facility is under attack.”

“What?” My eyes widen.  “By who?”

“Grammar Nazi Prime has deployed three battalions of—”

“That dickless fuck is still alive?”  I tap commands into my left wrist’s bone-mounted keypad.  “Whatever.  Let’s get this over with.”

As the door blows in, I activate the network of micro-explosives embedded throughout each floor, turning this state-of-the-art high-rise into a giant abyss.  I shield my face with both forearms as I start falling.  Grammar Nazi Prime’s jack-booted thugs manage to fire off some rounds, but they plink harmlessly off my armored vambraces.

“Clean burn rocketry,” I hiss.

My boot jets ignite with an ear-popping WHOOSH, and I experience a cool-ass moment where I’m hanging in the air, gravity and thrust nullifying each other as I bend my legs and flex my glimmer-tipped feet. 

Then I’m soaring upwards, trailing glowing lines of quantum exhaust.

Drones follow hot on my heels, their cannons firing luminous trails of explosive tracers.  They blow open all around me, dotting the night with spectacular bursts of smoke and flame.  I settle into a steady trajectory to fool them into thinking they’ve got a lock.  Their streams start converging, then—


—I blast into a sharp barrell-roll, twisting right and dropping three hundred feet in less then a second.  These are just pawns  If I try and fight them, I’ll waste my entire battery pack.  I need to cut the head off the snake or—

And then I see him.  Grammar Nazi Prime levitates into the sky a half-mile ahead, arms crossed on his chest like some kind of beta-male genie.  His whiny voice carries through the air:

“While you’ve been sleeping, I’ve constrained all semblance of creative thought within my Grammar Nazi internment camps!  You’re alone, Kent!  You hear me?  ALONE!!!”

“I’m never alone,” I rasp.

I punch a seven-number sequence on the holographic keypad above my chest, initializing my internal eReader.  I open it to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.

Steely tendrils erupt from my crotch, snapping together and forming into a giant Destructo Cock.  It’s three-foot head arches up and roars with the fury of a thousand suns.

Terror flashes through Grammar Nazi Prime’s bespectacled eyes.  As I race past him, Destructo Cock dips down and spears him through the skull.  His headless body falls from the sky, marring the night with a long stream of arterial blood.

I extend my arms in front of me, cycle up my thrusters, and scream through the stratosphere at Mach 10.  Grammar Nazi’s shocked, decapitated head dangles off the tip of my shaft.

As I said before, I’m never alone.  Two words:  Destructo Cock.


Are you a tech-enhanced future weapon that needs to pull off a genital-oriented Hail Mary?  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  Vol.4 on Kindle here:  Vol. 4 on Kindle  Echo Omnibus here:  Echo Omnibus  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!  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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