Today’s publication includes chapters 3.7, 3.8 and 3.9. These chapters contain action, adventure, drama, and historical data dumping. You will enjoy them. We finally get to learn more about Quan, the boy solider and about his relationship with the other Sions of Sugar Island. We take a tour of the Honey Acres Compound. We make a thin reference to the famous Finch Brothers– a band of cowboys from Lake Mills Wisconsin.
By adopting the organic technology of psionic implants, the Scions of Sugar Island carried their fight throughout the biotronic age, using their implants to give them one last self-evident right. They’d lost free speech. They’d lost freedom of press, religion, and even the pursuit of happiness. But they had one thing. They had freedom of thought. The implants, carried and worn by all of the true scions of Sugar Island, afforded the founders of the scion’s society the privacy of their minds. That, Cailean said, was the one thing that they’d managed to salvage, and that, he insisted, was the one thing that kept them from succumbing to the mind-numbing epidemic that had taken the lives and freedom of the people of the New City.
“While the New City of Sugar Island crumbles around us,” the wiry old man said with a spark in his eye, “The true Sugar Island has chance to rise again
I’m serializing my novel “Someone Liche You” on Red Lemonade over the course of the next few months. Most of it is available online right now. About half of it is yet to be uploaded. (I’m editing as fast as I can– and there’s a lot more to edit!) Eventually, the whole thing will be avaialble on demand and as a self-published kindle book.
Something is amiss in Sugar Island. All the details of last night's brown out have gone unreported. And exhaustion overwhelms our heroes as they finally get tucked in for a night's sleep. It's not a sleepover if it begins with the rising sun, is it?
That was before he’d been even curious about whether she’d been “listed.” Now that he was reasonably sure she was, Kevin wondered if she had been trying to warn him, or maybe hide from him. He felt the warm, freshly replicated alert fob in his hands now in his kitchen. He turned it over, bent the clip over backwards and snapped it off so that it would lay flat in his pocket, just like Mara had showed him. “I’m only paranoid if I’m wrong,” he said out loud to himself with an exhausted sigh. Sleep. Time for sleep.
When he went back to the living room, Mara was out of the shower and had helped herself to some of his clothing.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “This is a great shirt, though.” She’d pulled on his “I blogged your mom” shirt, which was a throwback that an old girlfriend had purchased for him. It fit her nicely, as opposed to how it fit him, which was about a half-a-size too small.
“No. It’s a good fit. You can keep it.” Kevin found himself silently amused that, after all these years, the clothing that he hung on to for no good reason other than that he couldn’t bring himself to take it for reprocessing had finally found a use.
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