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SAVING SCHRÖDINGER'S CAT
In the 25th century, deep under the Earth’s shattered surface, the dying remnants of humankind live in a dwindling Colony devoid of Nature and only one can travel to the past to save humanity from its dark fate.
SAVING SCHRÖDINGER'S CAT
Excerpt from Act II, Chapter 25
He needed help with the reports, and Conrad was the only one he could trust. It will be tricky, though. Conrad didn’t know the science like Proteus did, and he certainly didn’t know the future. But if Proteus was careful, he could present topics to Conrad and explain that some of them were secrets, and not to be discussed.
Proteus decided the simplest approach was to give Conrad a written list of words, and let him ask any questions he wished, which Proteus would answer directly or indirectly. There was a good chance the questions wouldn’t involve enough depth to risk Proteus inadvertently revealing the future, or trapping him in a circular web of lies.
His mind made up, he spent fifteen minutes composing the list of words and phrases, and then summoned Conrad — who’d returned from Cambridge last week — into his office. After he’d finished explaining, he asked Conrad if he had any questions.
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KLICKITAT
Klickitat and other stories (K.A.O.S) features four thriller tales about ordinary mountaineers in the Pacific Northwest thrust into extraordinary circumstances.
This debut collection from author Mark Jenkins folds modern day mountain climbing into the speculative wilderness of fantasy, sci-fi, and historical fiction.
KLICKITAT
Excerpt from the Novelette, Heavywater
A concussive wave blasted through Archimedes and jarred him awake. He was underwater. Desperately kicking upwards, lungs screaming for air, he burst through the surface, and heaved and choked in the dark.
The warm water pushed him gently downstream. Where the hell am I? What happened?
His brain replayed everything as he tried to understand why he was still alive. Or perhaps he wasn’t, and these were the last moments of an anoxic, dying brain, imagining a miraculous rescue in warm water, beaches, white sand, sun, and drinks with little umbrellas. Maybe my brain is supplying me with soothing images as my neurons die. Bye-bye.