(c) 2016
Somewhere in the North End of London, a clueless janitor desperately tries his hand at breaking into the netherworld of the modern pulp fiction industry. Prone to perpetual daydreaming and lost in delusions of grandeur, this would-be author pounds out reams of melodramatic drivel, shaped by the formulaic style of his quintessential washed-up agent from hell. Yet despite his best efforts, the only organizations interested in his “gift”, turn out to be a number of very… “clandestine” groups, who aren’t exactly focused on publishing manuscripts. Of these groups however, one is completely unlike any other organization on the planet.
Through a few “cat and mouse” games, this unique group begins to attract some unwanted attention of its own. Yet even as it is about to be exposed, it simply erases itself from the memory of everyone – save one man… As things suddenly begin slipping sideways across tangents in time.
Through it all, this lone odd-man-out finds time … is not quite what he thought it was.
Prologue:
Glancing out the cockpit window of the 747 jumbo jet, the copilot does a double-take at an odd flicker of light dancing at the
edge of the clouds.
“What is that?” asks the co-pilot. “Is that Philly?”
“It must be. Why?” replies the pilot, quickly adjusting the controls on the automatic pilot.
“It looks like a good part of the city is… on fire,” answers the co-pilot, struggling to believe his eyes. “I’ve never seen an urban
fire that large before. It must be massive!”
Leaning over to peer out the right window, the pilot takes a look for himself. “You’re right. That is massive!” replies the pilot.
Leaning forward, the co-pilot looks out the forward window, only to find another urban fire every bit as large.
“What the hell is going on down there?” he mutters. “That looks like Baltimore and DC – and those fires look even bigger!”
“Atlanta, TransGlobal 149,” the pilot calls over the radio.
“TransGlobal 149, go ahead,” replies the ATC.
“Atlanta, ah, we just noticed what looks like a couple of very large urban fires in Philadelphia and Baltimore. Have you any
information…”
Cutting him off mid-sentence, two F-18 Hornets scream past barely three hundred feet overhead and to the right.
“What the hell is this?!” blurts out the co-pilot.
After a couple of seconds of stunned silence, the voice of the ATC returns: “TransGlobal, it’s been all over the news; where have you guys been? It started out as small scale mobs rioting and looting,” continues the ATC, “but then mushroomed and went viral. Philadelphia, Detroit and Baltimore just declared Martial Law. You’re one of the last few flights cleared down that corridor.”
Still a little unsettled by the F-18 flyby, the pilot replies: “Atlanta, we were just overflown by two F-18’s… What the hell is going on down there?!”
“Atlanta?…”
“Atlanta?!…”
