The Devil Whispered by Shawn Starkweather

 

Science-Fiction/Mystery/Detective

Date Published: 3/1/2021

Retired special-forces commander Jacobi Slate is drawn into a downward-spiraling vortex of fear and doubt while investigating a brutal murder committed by an old friend. As evidence mounts that someone else might be pulling strings from the shadows, Jacobi struggles to understand a developing connection to his own past, which is quickly catching up to him.

Near-future cyberpunk collides with gritty detective noir in this fast-paced thriller that shines a light on both the vast shortcomings and the noble heroism of the human condition. To unravel the mystery, Jacobi will pull on every thread while chasing leads from the squalor of the most dangerous streets to the high-tech towers of the wealthy elite on his quest to understand a truth he might not be ready to face.

 

Excerpt

Through the doorway, a shape was moving toward us, intermittently visible as the pulsing rings passed rapidly along the ceiling. It was low to the ground, and parts of it were glowing red. The lights were moving too quickly for me to fully assess exactly who or what was approaching us, until it had nearly reached the door. It was an elderly Asian man, seated in a wheeled chair, the metal of which was aglow. The colors of fire swirled within it and gave the metal the molten appearance of having just been drawn from the flames. The man looked to be in his seventh or eighth decade. His white hair was short, straight, and neatly combed. The sharp, piercing gaze from beneath his glasses belied any assumption that his advanced age might have dulled his mind. For a few moments, he quietly studied us, and I had the sense that we were being silently compared with a preexisting expectation of some kind.

I bowed then, timing it as I deemed appropriate to reflect the proper amount of deference, since I was a guest on this ship and had come seeking his assistance. Risa followed my example.

Kangei Shimasu,” he said in Japanese, bowing his head respectfully. “Be welcome, Jacobi-san.”

“You know my name,” I said, unsurprised.

He paused for a moment, as if to consider how to answer, and then nodded. “I do. I know a great many things about both of you, but before you ask, I am unwilling to fully explain the methods that we use to gather our intelligence. We should use the limited time we have to share with one another this evening to focus on less complex matters.”

“You are The Blacksmith?” asked Risa.

“Yes. Welcome to the Forge, Ms. Corbin. You, of all people, might appreciate the room in which we stand now. Do you understand what you see, I wonder?”

“I think…” she said, looking slowly around the room, “if I had to guess, considering the amount of power you have being routed to that sphere, it’s probably the central processing unit for some sort of massive neural network. AI, perhaps?”

“Not just any artificial intelligence. Certainly nothing along the lines of those ridiculous programmed concierges you see installed in every home now. The Anvil,” he said, nodding in the direction of the sphere, “is the foundation of all of the work we do here at the Forge. I began developing it more than five decades ago, and it has since evolved into what you see before you now, a fully functioning example of the potential of machine learning.”

“What does it do?” she asked, walking closer and running her hand along the surface of the sphere.

“It manages complex medical procedures and data-mines the Evernet with astounding speed and accuracy to provide me with information. In many ways, it functions as an assistant of sorts for me, without which the work I do would take an extraordinarily increased length of time to complete.”

“And what is that exactly?” she asked. “The work you do, I mean.”

“You contacted me. That seems a great deal of trouble to go through without knowing what you seek.”

“It certainly does,” Risa said, giving me a poignant glare.

“Well,” he continued, “we do a great many things here in the Forge, mostly in the field of biological cybernetics. Our moral inclinations tend to be much looser than the places where this work is performed legally. And with the assistance of the Anvil, we can perform it in a fraction of the time it would take otherwise.”

“Why out here? Why on the ocean? A ship hardly seems the ideal place for a man in a wheelchair,” I said.

“Well, ship stability technology has made some leaps forward in the twenty years since you were in the navy, Mr. Slate. Advances in the field of magnetic internal stabilizers, as well as wave pattern recognition and prediction, have given way to a new era of onboard motion control. As you can surely see, there is a powerful storm raging outside yet barely the slightest hint of movement here within the hull.”

I hadn’t been paying too much attention, distracted as I’d been by the strange environment and the neural network, but he was correct. I bowed my head in concession to his point.

“To answer your question, it provides some amount of security, and the mobility we need to maintain our privacy. The ocean also provides a consistent, natural source of coolant that we utilize in maintaining our operation. Additionally, we have systems onboard that harness both thermal energy from the sun’s heat and mechanical energy from the tides and waves. Water, Mr. Slate, is a powerful tool when properly manipulated.”

My curiosity was sated, and I was impressed. The Blacksmith’s chair rolled forward past us, seemingly of its own violation as his hands were neatly folded in his lap. It repositioned to face us when it reached the Anvil.

“So, let us not waste any more time. Tell me, what service do you hope I can provide?”

I looked at Risa, who was watching me expectantly, and drew a deep breath.

“I need a kill switch for my head.”

About the Author

Shawn lives in Massachusetts with his wife and the handful of childhood stuffed animals that they’ve been unable to part ways with, even despite the awkward situation it occasionally puts their house guests in. He wields a coveted Associates of Liberal Arts degree from Greenfield Community college in an overly enthusiastic, flailing manner, and puts it to work writing both fantasy and science fiction stories. Using subliminal codes and hidden messaging carefully placed throughout his books, he plans to captivate the minds of his readers and insidiously manipulate them into purchasing subsequent releases.

As a novelist, musician, graphic designer, and a purveyor of fine games, Shawn is often confused about exactly who he is when he wakes up in the morning. It’s been said (by him) that perhaps he embodies all of these things so equally that a singular definition could not comprehensively impart a satisfactory description. With your support, and a sufficient demand for more novels, he secretly hopes that he’ll have no choice but to formally acknowledge the prevailing label of ‘author’ and spend the rest of his days providing a sense of wonder and adventure to everyone who helped him solidify his nebulous identity.

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Twitter

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LinkedIn

Amazon Author Page

 

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The Devil Whispered by Shawn Starkweather

Science-Fiction/Mystery/Detective

Date Published: 3/1/2021

Retired special-forces commander Jacobi Slate is drawn into a downward-spiraling vortex of fear and doubt while investigating a brutal murder committed by an old friend. As evidence mounts that someone else might be pulling strings from the shadows, Jacobi struggles to understand a developing connection to his own past, which is quickly catching up to him.

Near-future cyberpunk collides with gritty detective noir in this fast-paced thriller that shines a light on both the vast shortcomings and the noble heroism of the human condition. To unravel the mystery, Jacobi will pull on every thread while chasing leads from the squalor of the most dangerous streets to the high-tech towers of the wealthy elite on his quest to understand a truth he might not be ready to face.

Excerpt

My consciousness snapped online with abrupt decisiveness. I had the acute feeling of being alone in a world that was wrongly serene, like the silence of the dead. I’d been dreaming of something horrifying, but the details were dancing just outside the boundary of my ability to recall. The panic I’d woken with was caught in my chest. It held me frozen to the sheets as my mind reconfigured to the safety and familiarity of my apartment. Though the context of the dream was faded and surreal, the fear was vivid and raw. It was a visceral terror, compounded by a deeply rooted aversion to vulnerability.

As I lay there, waiting for the sensation of cold dread to die away, the room was unceremoniously lit up by the glow of the wide monitor that comprised the wall opposite my bed. Shielding my eyes from the sting of the sudden light, I heard Ava, my virtual concierge, ask if I would like to receive a call.

Who’s calling?” I asked with what little energy I’d mustered.

A Pavel Volkov is awaiting your response.” Her voice was always the same, mildly empathetic with a touch of encouragement.

I wrapped the sheet around me and grudgingly pulled myself up to sit on the side of the bed. Looking out from the tall windows that constituted the eastern-facing wall of my bedroom, I saw that it was still deep in the night. The only radiance beyond the panes was generated by the city itself; from the broken lines of luminous code emanating from the trickling streams of traffic far below, and the windows of the high-rises that towered above them – light and dark, the ones and zeroes of a binary skyline.

Yeah, okay.”

Then, Pavel’s finely kempt visage was smiling keenly at me from my wall. He was standing on a rocky beach, and waves were lapping at the shore behind him. He wore a white silk suit and a bemused expression that seemed inappropriately unapologetic.

It’s late, Pavel.”

Good morning, Jacobi. My apologies for contacting you at this hour, but I thought you’d want to know that I’ve located the target.”

Where are you?”

I’ll send coordinates to your CUBE.”

Pavel Volkov was a liar and a thief. He’d conned so many wealthy aristocrats that he’d become one himself, but he stayed in the game for the sake of his own twisted entertainment. He was an artist, who specialized in painting perfect illusions. Deception was his medium, but I’d worked with him for long enough that I trusted him when it came to getting the job done. Traces of malaise from my restless sleep were lingering, so the notion of lucid wakefulness was a welcome one.

I’m on my way,” I said. “End call.”

Pavel’s smirking face faded as the monitor went dark, and I was left with only my thoughts and the reiterating cycles of light from the softly glowing city outside. In the silence, I heard the faint percussion of fiery horse hooves falling away as the nightmare visiting me surrendered the assault and retreated to the depths of wherever dark dreams were designed.

About the Author

Shawn lives in Massachusetts with his wife and the handful of childhood stuffed animals that they’ve been unable to part ways with, even despite the awkward situation it occasionally puts their house guests in. He wields a coveted Associates of Liberal Arts degree from Greenfield Community college in an overly enthusiastic, flailing manner, and puts it to work writing both fantasy and science fiction stories. Using subliminal codes and hidden messaging carefully placed throughout his books, he plans to captivate the minds of his readers and insidiously manipulate them into purchasing subsequent releases.

As a novelist, musician, graphic designer, and a purveyor of fine games, Shawn is often confused about exactly who he is when he wakes up in the morning. It’s been said (by him) that perhaps he embodies all of these things so equally that a singular definition could not comprehensively impart a satisfactory description. With your support, and a sufficient demand for more novels, he secretly hopes that he’ll have no choice but to formally acknowledge the prevailing label of ‘author’ and spend the rest of his days providing a sense of wonder and adventure to everyone who helped him solidify his nebulous identity.

Contact Links

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Blog

LinkedIn

Amazon Author Page

 

Purchase Link

Author Amazon Page

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Star Wars Fans Are Not SyFy (Sci-Fi) Fans

I just had this argument with an editor for “John Smith – Last Known Survivor of the Microsoft Wars” so it is fresh in my mind. In truth, he sent a long list of comments trying to turn this book into a Star Wars type novel and, well, after I read it, I politely bitch slapped him into place. He’s probably still smarting.

The title of this blog post is utterly true though. Despite a 2009 movie called “Fanboys” which tried desperately to document that SyFy fans do not get along with Star Wars fans, most of Hollywood and the book world do not understand. Sci-Fi fans embrace that which focuses on the message. If a story happens to have characters we can embrace along the way, so be it. Star Wars fans only accept things they can shoehorn into their Star Wars universe.

 Let me use some big Crayons here so the non geek world can understand.

 Sci-Fi fans watched and enjoyed “The Fifth Element”. We accepted the quirky pretty girl who spent way too much time reading encyclopedias as someone who was important at some point. We were rewarded for that acceptance much like horror fans were rewarded in the final scenes of “Jaws” when the shark was finally revealed. Are reward came as a single line “I am fifth element”. At that moment our minds filled in her back story and universe. We didn’t need any character development. Star Wars fans didn’t watch it because Lucas didn’t make it.

 Sci-Fi fans require an outraged and quick lipped character to challenge and poke fun at everything around them. Sci-Fi fans warmly embraced “Farscape” because John Crichton spent most episodes wise cracking about everything and dropping the occasional “Star Trek” reference. Star Wars fans didn’t watch it because Lucas didn’t create it.

 Sci-Fi fans rallied behind and voted in Dr. Who when it came to TV-Guide’s fan cover in 2012. Not only do we accept a main character that, over the course of 30+ years we still know little to nothing about, we accept the fact every so many years he will “regenerate” into a new doctor and that every so often we will get one or more new companions who become “us” in the series. Star Wars fans don’t watch it because Lucas doesn’t do the special effects.

 Are you seeing a pattern here?

 Sci-Fi fans really do “expect greater”. Not only do we want shows with a 7-30+ year story arc, we deliberately want them to leave large pieces of the characters out so our minds can fill such things in. On very rare occasions, after a show has been on for many years, will we allow the writers to go back and actually flesh out a character which has been on since the beginning. To understand these rules, you need to rent all of “Farscape” with your Block Buster subscription, THEN, watch “The Peacekeeper Wars”. Don’t worry, Star Wars fans won’t have any idea what you are talking about when you show up to work on Monday.

 Most importantly, we do expect these shows to have an arc. Other shows may spin off of them, but we do expect them to have a limited arc. Those of you who don’t grasp this should watch the entire “Babylon 5” series then rent the short lived “Crusade” series.

 Second most importantly, Sci-Fi fans are completely unforgiving when you kill off a series too early. Fans pushed “Babylon 5” from station to station so it could finish its arc…with a few station crossing hiccups along the way. “Firefly” has become a short lived series with a massive fan base. Despite an incredibly stupid network which ran shows out of order, and didn’t air them all, the Brown Coat Nation has risen. When Josh and a few stars from that show get scheduled to appear at a convention, they get the biggest room at the convention and it is still SRO (Standing Room Only).

 http://browncoatnation.enjin.com/

http://science.discovery.com/tv-shows/firefly/about-this-show/10th-anniversary-special.htm

One thing any Sci-Fi fan knows for certain is that “Firefly” will get to complete its story arc. There are too many fans with too much money who know too much about the biz.