Chapter 2.0
Aristotle was shaking him, the gargantuan bodyguard firmly gripping his shoulders while screaming in his face. Bridge shrugged off the hands angrily, answering back with a "What?! I hear you!" Bridge had somehow slipped to the floor. He grabbed hold of the chair and tried to pull himself up, but the exploding lights that blurred his vision caused him to sit right back down. "Why are you yelling at me?"
"You were screaming out the word ‘Boulder’ over and over," Aristotle replied with a concerned expression.
"Yeah, Boulder. What the fuck was that about Boulder? Where did Angie go?" He finally noticed the silence of the club. There was no beat, no music, just the murmuring of dozens of similar conversations being had all about the place. He peered around through the dense smoke and dim lighting. Fully half of the club’s patrons were on the floor, some still screaming like Bridge had been while others were in various states of disheveled confusion. Even the Ardents were on their backs. Their vocal mikes were still hot, and Bridge could hear Bobby screaming. The singer lay writhing on the floor staring blankly at the ceiling. The unaffected patrons were busy either trying to help their friends or trying hard to ignore it, fearful of catching whatever had caused the seizures.
Bridge’s interface jack was burning and itching and throbbing painfully all at the same time, and he began to rub it as he mulled over the seizure. Maybe it was some nanobiological in the air? That was the only way to affect so many people without spiking every drink in the club, but such a tactic would likely have affected everyone and not such a random selection. Or was it random? As Bridge examined each victim closely, a pattern began to form. The conscious ones were all rubbing their necks, and not just their necks but the same spot on the back of their necks. It was the spot where interface jacks were implanted, right underneath the hairline at the base of the skull. He peered closely at the ones who were not affected. None seemed to have an interface jack.
"Look around, Aristotle," Bridge whispered. "Notice something?" The big man shook his head. "Look closer, man. Everybody on the floor has a jack. You ain’t jacked, are you?"
"Negative. I always felt wrong about defacing such a splendid body with cold metal just to see the Web faster."
Bridge frowned. "That’s not what we use them… never mind. It only hit the ones with jacks. What the fuck is…?" Just then, Bridge’s musing was interrupted by the sound of ringtones, a chorus of ringtones sounding out at once from all over the club. Cell phone hand units were buzzing, screeching their pop music snippets and default tones all at once. Every person who had not been affected by the first wave was answering a phone. Bridge looked over to Aristotle, who retrieved his phone from the front pants pocket and flipped open the screen. "Who is it?"
"It’s a text. It says, ‘Boulder'."
"That’s it? Just one word?"
"Affirmative, just the one word. ‘Boulder.’ What the hell is going on, Bridge?"
The band used a set of video screens set to randomly switch between GlobalNet feeds, and Bridge noticed a number of news feeds in the spew. One in particular caught his eye, a shiny logo that said "Breaking News: Boulder Rocked." He chuckled at the overbearing cheese. Jumping up, ignoring the dizziness that caused him to wobble on his feet, he made his way to the DJ’s booth next to the stage. The DJ, who had been relaxing with a drink during the Ardents’ set, was laid out on the floor next to the attractive blonde he had been hitting on. Bridge reached over the DJ’s panel to stop the random switching, focusing all the club’s monitors on that news feed. Chrono News Network raged into loud life around the club, causing Bridge to dial back the sound. The screen was overtaken with the stylized titles, dramatic music playing in the background.
"We’ve just gotten word out of Boulder, Colorado of an unspecified explosion. We’ll be taking you to an affiliate in the Denver area shortly with an on-the-scene report."
Bridge stared over at Aristotle, whose face had gone an ashen color. The bodyguard frantically punched in a number on his phone, putting the ear piece to his head and chewing nervously on a thumbnail.
Go to Interlude: Part 1
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Know Circuit: Chapter 2.5
Monday, February 9, 2009
The Know Circuit: Chapter 2.0
November 2, 2028
01:39 a.m.
There were ghosts in the club.
The Tanz was full of people both there and not there, a disorienting dance of ghost figures and solid constructs, neither one carrying the visual or physical solidity Bridge’s mind required to surround himself with a coherent reality. His head, his mind was in searing pain, trying to reconcile itself with its warped perceptions. The club itself was the ghost, the dance floor, even the table beneath his hands an immaterial shimmering construct of light. His hands were translucent, their edges fuzzy and glowing with reflected energy yet they did not pass through the ghostly table.
The rest of the club had the same smoky quality, a half-remembered mirage left on the inside of his eyelids. Some of the club’s patrons looked around at themselves as if seeing their bodies for the first time, while others were staring at these lost souls as if snakes were crawling out of their ears. The latter were even less substantial than the former, barely lit phantoms observing an alien landscape.
Overlaid on top of the club’s interior was another world, another series of lights and sounds and smells and things, all of it much more substantial than the actual club. His table was wrapped with another table like the skin of a 3D texture, a rough-hewn wooden table with the knots of the tree’s rings still visible underneath a slick varnish. An ornate flagon of ale rested on the table in the same position as Bridge’s bourbon. It was so real he could smell the ale, see the beads of overflowing liquid tinkling down the side of the metal cup.
Across from him, in the place of Aristotle sat Angela in her virtual disguise as the Baroness Eletheia, the white-haired lich queen of the virtual world Ars-Perthnia. "Angie?" Bridge
stammered, his voice sounding distorted and distant, as if he heard it underwater.
"Artie? What the hell are you doing in… what am I doing in the Tanz? Everything’s going slideways… sideways… losing focus…" She seemed to be struggling with something, something that Bridge could even now hear in his head.
The sound wasn’t even an audible sound, so much as a driving compulsion, a rumbling emotion that crested in waves barely underneath the level of perception. It was a name a place a thought a concept a there a here a thing a people a something he needed to get out of his head. And as it grew he screamed its name.
The club returned to normal, the ghosts gone as quickly as they came. He was on his knees by the table, and he was screaming.
One word. "Boulder!"
Go to Chapter 2.5
Thursday, February 5, 2009
The Know Circuit - Chapter 1.5
Chapter 1.0
After Ms. Angst had left the table, Bridge’s gigantic bodyguard Aristotle walked over and sat down with a loud exhalation. “Are you really going to get that diminutive paparazzi wannabe a urine sample from a pop princess? Isn’t that a little scuzzy, even for you?”
Bridge smiled back. “Have you seen Ms. Angst’s numbers? That little half-breed pulls down huge uniques every time she opens her mouth. Hell, even that bit she did when Matt’s place got raided was competitive with the Misogynist Theatre preview vids in the teen/tween demos. She’s a hot property.”
“My word, you sound like a television executive pitching a smoking hot pilot. Mr. Thames would be proud,” Aristotle replied with a devious grin on his face. Bridge’s memories of the slick Chronosoft executive who had forced him into leaking a scandalous video of the former mayor were bitter ones. The comment was without malice however, so Bridge just returned his friend a one-finger salute.
“I hate the gossip mill she works, but I’ll be damned if those kind of numbers might not come in handy some day. It's all about who you know, you know?”
“Oh, indubitably,” Aristotle smiled back. He worked the pad on a PDA. “According to my records, that was your last appointment tonight, boss. Are you ready to retire for the evening?”
Bridge shook his head. “Why do you still use that relic? You need to get jacked, big guy.” Bridge pointed to the interface jack at the base of his skull, the cybernetic hub for all his chipped-in internal software from scheduling to cell phones to his internal clock. Aristotle just shrugged. Some people just didn’t like metal implants. Bridge let it drop. He knew Aristotle would never get with the cyber times. “Nah, I’m gonna hover for a little, see if I scare up any walk-ins. Besides, I like this band. You can split, if you want.”
It was Aristotle’s turn to shake his head. “What bodyguard would allow his charge even a moment unescorted through this calamitous jungle?” His smile wilted into his serious face. “I caught a glimpse of Paulie. Have you figured out how you’re to discharge that particular burden?”
“Not yet, no. I could always call up Arneson or Beach.” Bridge stared into his half-finished drink visualizing the two hired guns, mentally toting up their qualifications for such a task. Arneson was cybered-up enough to be more than a physical match for the ex-footballer. Beach claimed to be a shootist, one of the few assassins who followed some weird sort of Samurai honor by killing their prey with the most impossible displays of trick shooting. Beach’s flair was way too expensive and Arneson was fucking crazy. Come to think of it, Bridge believed they were both two steps over the line from crazy into batshit territory, but they were effective. But worst of all, Bridge really just didn’t want to kill anybody. Paulie was a thug, a son-of-a-bitch and a sadistic cunt, but he’d just been doing a job. Even the threats he’d made to Angela at the end were just how things were done. Once he started whacking guys who crossed him, Bridge became no better than thugs like Paulie or Nicky Sharver. Besides, Bridge HAD cost Paulie a couple of fingers. “I’d rather not get into the assassination game if there’s another out.”
Aristotle nodded knowingly. Though they never spoke much about it, he respected Bridge for the fixer’s hesitance to use violence. Bridge didn’t even let Aristotle fight for him, claiming that he couldn’t afford a real bodyguard. Even so, Bridge was sure that if needed, the man would take a bullet for him. Aristotle was THAT guy. Bridge wasn’t. Aristotle grinned at him and said, “We’re going to have to start calling you the Not So Amoral Bridge if you don’t watch out.”
Both men giggled. “Fuck off. I didn’t make up that nickname!”
“And yet, you use it with such prodigious frequency.” Bridge shrugged.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting the music wash over them. The Ardents were building their set to a crescendo, the music stacking itself in layers upon layers as if independent of the musicians’ actions. Drums fed into guitars into cowbells into bass intertwining with video snippets and found sounds. The tension between the duo was palpable, and only Bridge knew why. The tap Bobby had put on his sister’s life months ago had been discovered, and she was ultra-pissed about it. Rather than tear the band apart though, it actually improved their live performances, their anger and resentment towards each other feeding a fire of creativity that infused the music with an almost heavenly quality. Bridge wished he’d hired a bootlegger to catch this performance, but he had been too busy to think of it. He made a mental note to do just that for their next gig, if there was one. Since the Arsenal had shut down after Twiggs’ death, the Tanz was one of the few clubs that would still book them, even though the vapid celebrity clientele didn’t appreciate this kind of challenging music.
Behind the music, something was building, something at the very edge of hearing/seeing/thinking. At first, Bridge thought it was just a new psychoacoustic effect the siblings had added to the show, but as it began to tickle the interface jack at the base of his skull, he realized it was something else. Like a tide slowing rolling into a wave that fed itself into larger and larger waves until the whole sea bubbled over and buried everything underneath its watery embrace, this something radiated out from the jack through the nerves in his spine, his shoulders and hips and arms and legs and hands and feet and fingers and toes.
Bridge began to scream and he was not alone.
Go to Chapter 2.0
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
The Know Circuit - Chapter 1.0
November 2, 2028
01:20 a.m.
“Come on, Bridge, I know you know a guy,” the lithe Puerto Rican/Chinese vlogger whined to Bridge, pointing a finger directly in his face. Bridge just leaned back in his seat with that bemused smile of his, confirming the girl’s assumption without a word. “I just need the hookup, yo!”
“Look here, Anna,” Bridge said, intentionally using her real name, knowing that would get her goat. The smoldering stare and arched brows of her 16-year old face was a minor victory for him, a sign that he had gained the upper hand. “Sorry, Ms. Angst. What you are asking for is… well, it’s pretty goddamn impossible.”
“Bullshit, Bridge. You’re the bomb. I know you got Fez that in with Raging D-Bags. Did you see his numbers on that story? Cuz went stratospheric, yo!” She was trying damn hard to butter him up and if he went in for smoking hot jailbait, he’d have bit. She had the flawless skin of a teenager with the taut body of someone who spent their nights chasing celebrities in limos to get that one hit video clip. When not busy hounding celebs, she worked the crime beat. Bridge wondered when she ever got the time to go to high school. He figured her for smart enough to pass without ever seeing the inside of a classroom though, so her attendance was likely immaterial.
“You’re asking me to get the urine of a pop icon with more security than the fucking Mayor. And trust me; the mayor’s got a metric fuckton of security. All so you can break the story that she’s pregnant, which by the way, she may not even be pregnant. What do you do if she’s not?” It wasn’t the most disgusting thing Bridge had ever hooked up for someone. But it would be damned hard to find a bodyguard who not only had access, but was willing to risk his job to get the sample.
Of course, Bridge knew a guy. He’d gotten Rick the job with Ms. Shawnee when Rick was at his absolute lowest, two steps from getting his hands chopped off by the recently deceased Nicky Sharver. Rick owed him a whole lot more than just two working flesh hands. But Bridge knew better than to give in too easy. After all, a good businessman set the price as high as the market would bear.
“If she ain’t preggers, at least I got the scoop on that too. It just won’t get as many hits. Anything with Shawnee’s name trends upwards, yo. My advertisers like dem trends.” Bridge put on his best thinking face, selling his effort for all it was worth. Angst was smart enough to recognize the game. “You DO know somebody!”
Bridge pretended to give up with a sigh. Leaning over the table and pulling her closer with a conspiratorial whisper, he said, “All right, I know a guy. But this is major big-time bad mojo for him if he gets caught. You have got to be completely anonymous on this one. I mean it, no names, nothing more specific than sources close to the subject.” Finally, he leaned back, his dance reaching the climactic flourish. “But it’s going to cost you.”
“Yo, I pays, brau. You know I pays.” She did pay, and more reliably than most of his repeat clients. Value was established, and the two parties began haggling out the particulars. As he finalized the details, he noticed a figure over Ms. Angst’s shoulder, the towering bulk of the ex-footballer Paulie. The giant spotted Bridge. He aimed his shiny new cybernetic fingers at Bridge in the shape of a pistol, fired a pretend shot and headed for the door with a predatory smirk on his lips. Time was running out on that debt.
Go to Chapter 1.5
Monday, February 2, 2009
Under the Amoral Bridge Recap
Under the Amoral Bridge was the first in a series of novels called The Bridge Chronicles serialized in blog form. It was originally released on Jan. 31st, 2008 and consisted of 14 chapters and an epilogue. Below are links to every chapter for your convenience. If you'd prefer to read the novel in trade paperback form, you can purchase it here (use the coupon code S3M97LBV to get the book for $8), Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble.com, {indie}pendentbooks.com - you may even be able to special order it at your local brick and mortar bookstore. You can purchase the Ebook version at Smashwords.com, the Kindle Store, the Barnes & Noble eBook store, and {indie}pendentbooks.com.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Sunday, January 25, 2009
The Know Circuit Logo Revealed
In the run up to the release of The Know Circuit, the sequel to Under an Amoral Bridge, I've done a new logo and header for the site. The header has the release date, Feb. 2nd. I'm on track to get the first installments done on time. Keep watching this space.
Read more...Thursday, January 22, 2009
The Know Circuit is Coming
Just a quick update to say that the sequel, The Know Circuit, is in progress. I've done the rough draft for the first three chapters, which will likely end up being about 6 updates at 2 updates a week. I like where the story is going, and while walking the dogs last night, I got some cool side ideas for the third book in the series. Yes, I've already conceived a sequel to the sequel. The Know Circuit will shed a bit more light on the relationship between Bridge and Aristotle, as well as reveal some parts of the world outside of Chronosoft's control.
Follow the mundane aspects of my life on Twitter, where I'll also be updating the release of the new novel. The current plan is to release the first segment on Tuesday, February 3rd.
