Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

“Ms. Waller, I’d like to be the first to congratulate you on being a pioneer.  You’re the first woman to become the President of the United States,” General Haggblad said.

Waller cracked a wry smile.  “I’m not President yet, General.  Still got a month and a half before my inauguration.  And you’re not the first to congratulate me, either—you know kids and their social media.”

“I’m not a fan of it,” Haggblad grunted.  “Don’t even have a facebook account.  Come with me, please.”  He turned around and gestured with his hand.

Waller followed him down a long, narrow hallway.  The pale, sterile walls shone with harsh, uncompromising light from the overhead banks of white-cored halogens.  At the end of the hall was a vault-like door, bordered by imposing lines of fist-sized rivets.

“What are you keeping in there?” Waller asked.  “I’ve gotten the briefing on Area 51 and the Bermuda Triangle, but—”

A flash of horror played through Haggblad’s combat-hardened expression.  “This is…this is…” He paused before the door’s genetic spectro-scan, closing his eyes as he struggled to compose himself.

“I’m sorry…I can’t…”

Waller laid a comforting hand onto his shoulder.  “It’s okay, General.  Let’s get this over with.”

He took a deep breath, acknowledging her request with a single nod.  “Right.  My apologies—shouldn’t have lost my bearing.”  He placed his hand on the surface of the scanner and its contoured handprint lit briefly at the edges.  As second later it gave off a resonant BEEP.

A series of clicks sounded from the door.  Mechanized servos gave off a soft, insistent whirr as it swung open on its motorized track.

In the middle of the room was a sleeping man, bound and gagged to an upright hospital bed, like Hannibal Lecter from the Silence of the Lamb movies.  Waller’s eyes narrowed in guarded suspicion.

“THIS is what you’re all so afraid of?”  She looked over at Haggblad.

His knees were shaking; she could see the fabric of his trousers jumping in small, vibratory tics.  “This is Kent Wayne:  sci fi author and professional Man Whore.  Five years ago, he ate three spicy sausages.  The ensuing flatulence took out half the West Coast.”

Recognition dawned in Waller’s eyes.  “The nuclear meltdowns…they were just a cover story…”

Haggblad nodded.  “We managed to subdue him, but not before he ate twenty more spicy sausages.  We had to induce a medical coma—that’s the only thing standing between us and a worldwide reset.  If Kent wakes up, it’ll make the dinosaur extinction look like child’s play.”

“My God…” Waller turned back to Kent, awed and terrified.  “My God…”  She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“We have a possible countermeasure,” Haggblad continued.  “But no one knows if it’ll actually work.  Our theorists at CERN say it might be able to offset another catastrophe, but only if—”

Kent’s eyes flew open.  He looked wildly from side to side, causing Haggblad and Waller to stumble back and bump into the wall panels, bracing against them with numb, spread-fingered hands.

“All personnel!”  Haggblad gasped into his collar-mounted mic.  “Kent’s awake!  I repeat—Kent’s awake!  THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”

“SPUH SUS!” Kent screamed through his gag.  “SPUH SUS!”  Despite his muffled voice, Haggblad and Waller knew exactly what he was saying; his words sent a fresh wave of chills rippling through their horror-stricken minds.

He was saying “Spicy Sausages.”

A wave of scintillant blue fire rolled out from Kent’s asshole.  It disintegrated Haggblad’s feet, shins, and half his thighs, but before it could consume the rest of him, he managed to reach into his pocket and open his eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

PHHHBBBBBT!  The rest of Kent’s Breakup Fart transformed into a harmless cloud of atrocious-smelling gas. 

Haggblad lay on the floor, tears trickling from both his eyes.  Waller was yelling—he could tell by her panicked eyes and the patter of her mouth—but he couldn’t hear her; his body was in shock.

The scientists had been right, God bless their nerdy, micro-penised hearts.  The world was safe.  He could finally rest.  He could…

He could…


Does your unbearable flatulence pose a risk to national security?  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!  😲💪 😜


12 thoughts on “Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

  1. Is that it? Your bottom burps are what’s upsetting the world? Pfft. (I whisper words into my hands, the details of which you cannot hear nor see with any certainty except the general movement)
    Ta da! I got a cone for you! 🐚🌲🍌🥒🍆🥕🥜 now I know people have allergies. So you can choose. This is going to go in your butt.

    Liked by 2 people

      • Well I guess it’s fine so long as you announce your farts. It’s just polite. You know? I announce mine. It gives people enough time to run and prepare themselves for the cloud of toxicity.

        Liked by 1 person

      • When I hooked up with this chick for the first time in a hotel, I would use the hallway bathroom, hahaha! I’ve been married, and bad poop etiquette can turn passionate lovers into roommates pretty fast, LOL!


      • But with connecting tunnels and secret passageways. Because it’s hilarious to sneak up and fucking just… I DON’T KNOW SOME SORT OF SNEAK ATTACK. and then… disappear into the shadows again. Hahahaha… Omfg. No wonder my husband hates me. 🙀 puddle of mudd, she hates me. Nah nah nah nah…? Gender whatever flipping switch. Fucken metaphors and figurative language. Representational terms.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Oh my, I see how it is. I really am Widget the World Watcher-Maker… hmmm…
        10 years ago I wrote a children’s story. And had my friend illustrate it. It was a single copy in existence and I gave it out as a gift but I do not remember to whom… it was the tale of 2 warring factions that came together to inform the future generation of the dangers of a weapon used by the unseen true enemy. The 2 factions were but playing games, albeit quite passionate and very long generational outstanding…

        Liked by 1 person

      • Ayeiaiaaye. Thing is, I’m more of an ideas person. I am absolutely garbage at trying to actually make any of the things happen. I can try to recount it. UUUGGHHH. I am so balls at having to do stuff. Trying is hard and annoying. Takes the fun out of stuff.

        Liked by 1 person

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