Hi everyone, I was going through some files the other day, and I found the first book that I wrote called Time Agency. I’m going to put it on Kindle Scout, and it will need to get nominations for chance at being published by Amazon. Nominators will get a free Kindle edition if I get published. It’s a win for both of us. Click here to nominate.
Here a short description of the book:
Roman woke on a busy city street. His memory gone. A well-dressed man approached him, and left a locked briefcase at Roman’s feet.
An agent named Nanette tracked Roman. Her agency captured and reprogrammed those who sought to alter the past. But Roman’s case was different than all the rest. Her well-dressed protégé gave Roman a briefcase. Capturing a person seeking to alter the past was routine, a fellow time agent altering the past was cause for panic.
Roman’s memory came slowly back as the technology in his body began to regenerate his neural pathways. Fragments of a past bubbled to his conscience. Roman wasn’t sure if his past was worth reliving. There was a blonde woman from his past, and she disappeared because she was curious about the future.
Roman was on the run because he asked a simple question. A child would ask the same question when learning about time travel in school. What’s the future like? There was so much information about the past. Historians would travel back, blend in, and record “real” history, but Roman was not allowed to travel to the future. Why was future travel restricted to some mysterious-agency division?
The well-dressed man knew the answer to Roman’s question and had the briefcase full the secrets to prove it.
Thus begins the egregious amount of references to Pink Floyd in my novel Playlist of the Ancient Dead. There isn’t a single band with more songs that appear in the novel. Not only are they one of my favorites, but they are the best band of all time period, no further reason to argue. So there you go Internet, I’m stating my opinion as if it were fact. No one has ever done that before!
As for why I chose the song for this chapter, let’s talk about Caroline for a moment. I feel that Caroline never had any doubt in her mind that she wanted to go on the adventure. She’s the type of person who would see a pit and jump inside just to see what’s at the bottom. Whereas most people would stand clear of the abyss that invites her inside. If she sees too willing to follow Murphy down the rabbit hole, it’s because she’ll go were others dare not. And the warehouse knows this about her and opens for her.
Chapter five is where she tries to fake having a logical mind, and convincing herself not to go (which she does poorly). She tries to do what a smoker who always fails to quit does. They go through the list of reasons why they shouldn’t smoke even though they know fully that they are going to light up after they go through the list. I feel the character in Welcome to the Machine knows he’s making a deal with devil and does it anyway. Caroline knows she is doing something dangerous but does it anyway thus welcoming her to the Machine or more specifically, the maw of a warehouse full of dark forces but the machine sounds better.
You know when you’re a kid and you hear a song lyric incorrectly, but you swear that your version is the right one, and the fiction turns out to be more wonderful than the truth? Werewolves of London is that song for me. I had always thought that he was saying Werewolves of Thunder. How cool would that be? Werewolves of Thunder! Maybe they could even showdown with the Thunder Cats. Alas, my childhood fantasy of thunder werewolves was not meant to be. However, in a lot of ways, the character of Jasputin Trotsky is much cooler in the story of his head than in reality.
Jasputin was a character brewing long before I decided to get back into writing science fiction again. When we first started dating, my wife had a small 18 pound dog named Jasper. It took one weekend of watching him while she was out of town to earn his love. Now he sleeps on my shoulder as I type this post. When my wife and I first moved in together long before we were married. We got a nice slice of the ghetto near Burton Park. Since the neighborhood on the other side was nicer than ours, we’d muse on our walks about what was going on in the dog’s head.
We had created this inner monologue of this great hero who guards the house and called my wife, mommy, and me, “man”. Since our dog seemed to take every task with a grave sense of importance be it barking at the mailman, or walking through the park, we amused ourselves for hours with a “dog” voice about what Jasper thought about the world. We had visions of our dog sitting in a large stuffy chair in a gentleman’s sitting room, smoking a cigar and sipping cognac, talking about the rise and fall of bone prices. We created mysteries perpetrated by an “m-man” only to be discovered later that it was mailman all along. He was a dog PI named Licks Waggert. A Russian revolutionary named Jasputin Trotsky. A landed gentry named Sniff Barklington with our cat Mura Purmewsmith.
Though Jasper’s appearance in my novel almost never happened. In the first draft, the dog was flavor text for the first chapter. Later on (spoiler alert), I realized that actuators would probably need some helpers who could take the equivalent of the employee corridors of a haunted house. If a building was designed to test, then someone had to reset the test and clean up the bodies. The “friends” were born, and if there was going to be a character from the core group who was destined to join the friends, why not use this larger than life character my wife and I created together. My only regret is that I didn’t get to use more of our silly dog related creations. Maybe one day, I’ll write a dog fantasy novel with a hardened PI named Licks Waggert.