by AR DeClerck
When a mysterious wormhole appears on the edge of a Nevada town, Rand Hazen and his team race to study it. Together with his partner and the love of his life, Rand knows he can be the first physicist to prove that time travel is possible.
In a devastating twist of fate, the wormhole goes into flux, and when Rand opens his eyes all of Verity Pines is gone, taking with it his lover.
Rand knows that he will do anything to find her, even going so far as to jump into the hole to follow her. Rand vows to himself that he won’t say her name until he sees her face again.
On the other side of the wormhole Rand finds himself in a place he never imagined: the far, far future. The world as he knows it is about to end, but none of that matters; all he cares about is finding her.
Through a shining silver city and into a vast desert, Rand will comb this world until her finds her, or until the world itself burns around him.
Genre: SciFi RomancePurchase link(s): Amazon Smashwords iTunes Kobo B&N
Content/Theme(s): Wormhole, Post Apocalyptic, Time Travel, Cyberpunk, Futurepunk, Futuristic
Release Date: March 27, 2017
Publisher: Nevermore Press
Excerpt & More
Once upon a time the world was round. As time counted on past years, decades and millennia it became eons, and the world stretched. What was once perfectly round was now oblong, wobbling on its axis as it turned in the blank black pool of space. The people of the Rim had woken from their drug-induced acceptance of the world to find that nothing about the world was worth accepting. They were no longer satisfied by the cold monochrome life inside Pavitra. The first generation of those to awaken went far into the desert, and it was not an easy life. The hardpan of the desert was unwelcoming and hostile and to survive they became as unforgiving as the desert around them. Taking what they needed from the people in Pavitra was not only easy, it was necessary. The people of Pavitra did not miss what they lost, any more than a sea slug might miss its shell.
Five generations and fifty longer, hotter, years later, a group of the awakened chose to remain closer to the city, building their own lives up in the crumbling outer ruins of the abandoned pre-war world. They were a barrier between the scav tribes and the city dwellers, watching over and protecting the simpler minded people who remained entranced by the drug that had unavoidably damaged their brains. This mezzo-life, stuck between the savage primitive scavs and the doe-eyed simpletons of Pavitra, left the people of the Rim most vulnerable to discontent. Still, they were happy for the most part. They, at least, remembered what it was to love, to make music and art. They understood beauty.
Rand stood at the bottom of the stairs and imagined that he looked like a tourist in a foreign country. He took in the low wide buildings caged between the crumbling skyscrapers of a long-dead civilization. Not much remained of the tallest buildings but the steel skeletons. Still, they cast their shadows over the settlement and it was noticeably cooler. The little adobe huts were hard packed by the sun and yet his eye wandered to the flowers in the window boxes more than anywhere else. They spared what little water they could, he thought, to keep these bright flowers alive. Here and there he saw other signs that these people valued beauty over functionality. Where it would be more practical to spend time in pursuit of food and water, he saw time spent carving intricate designs in the walls of the adobe and careful laying of the paving stones to create curved and subtly lovely pathways through the settlement.
“Different here, isn’t it?” Tilan’s hand was light on his shoulder as Rand nodded. “More like home?”
“Not particularly.” Rand managed a brief smile in the other man’s direction. “More like something ancient and somehow familiar, too.”
“Always makes me feel bigger inside, when I come here.”
Tilan’s description exactly described the widening in Rand’s mind in response to the small settlement, Rand realized. He’d felt something akin to it before in 2018, when he’d visited several ancient city sites with her. Just like in Angkor Wat, he felt a connection to the world in this place. Like he was standing on ground both ancient and brand new at once. Something about this place called to him.
“It’s small in the city.” Rand searched for a way to describe what he was feeling. “A box designed to keep a precious treasure safe.”
“Stifling.” Vorminger supplied, and Rand nodded.
“A butterfly jar with no air holes.” At their confused glances he explained the delicate and beautiful insect, so often killed in the pursuit to keep it beautiful forever.
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