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Tomorrow People
Tomorrow People
Tomorrow People
Ebook278 pages3 hours

Tomorrow People

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A power-hungry megacorporation. A gang of cyberpunk rebels in their sights. A teen who may be the world’s salvation, if hired killers don’t get to him first.
The far future. Adam dreams of simpler times. Running with a crew of underground cyberpunks, the nineteen-year-old plays it fast and loose as he and his team plot to overthrow the megacorporation Cyber-Corp, who is dangling an escape from poverty—but at a terrible cost. But when the establishment’s assassin takes Adam’s side after noticing his strangely colored eyes, Adam finds himself entangled in a mysterious prophecy. One that could span the multiverse—where the seven colors of the rainbow represent each universe.
Determined to fulfill his role in saving the planet, the young freedom fighter dodges hitmen and forges into the wastelands in search of his destiny. But after taking refuge in a resistance haven, Adam is horrified he may have led his people into a deathtrap when pitiless enemies unleash a robotic attack.
As hope fades and death looms, will he sacrifice everything to end the tyranny
Tomorrow People is a gripping cybernetic dystopian novel. If you like resilient heroes, high-tech plots, and explosive action, then you’ll love Brian Paone’s visionary tale.
Buy Tomorrow People to hack fate today!

LanguageEnglish
PublisherScout Media
Release dateSep 28, 2024
ISBN1960855077

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    Tomorrow People - Brian Paone

    1

    Do you want to be hypnotized? the man asked. An orange leather mask covered his face, and torn and tattered strips of orange cloth hung from his orange shirt and pants.

    The woman lying on the metal table wondered if the man had cut his clothes to look more sinister or whether his clothes had been frayed from years of living in this desolate, orange-tinged landscape.

    The man peered at the woman for her answer, his eyes peeking through dust- and grime-covered goggles. She could barely see his orange pupils through the muck covering the lenses.

    The woman ran her tongue across her front teeth to steady herself before making a final decision. She surveyed the room, hesitating before replying. Everything was orange from either dust or dirt. Computer screens covered almost every inch of wall space, each haphazardly hung so they tilted in their unique way, not even one hung level. Two monitors rested on wheeled stands, one keeping track of her heart rate and the other? Well, she didn’t know what the other’s purpose was.

    "Hrm?" he asked, impatient, standing over the table.

    She held her breath and didn’t like that the only door in the room was closed. She felt trapped, stifled, claustrophobic. But that was why she was here in the first place, right? She wanted what this man could give her. She wanted to be free of this plane of existence. She wanted to peacefully move into whatever afterlife his special trancing promised.

    Into whatever magic this stranger, dressed head-to-toe in raggedy orange garb, had promised her.

    These were the neuro-trancers—the wizards in these wastelands. They were to be feared and respected and adored, all at the same time. And this man boasted to be one of the most revered of the neuro-trancers.

    I do want to be hypnotized, she squeaked out.

    The man handed her a small keypad. Please transfer all your credits. This is your donation to Mother Dawn and your payment for the service.

    The woman swallowed hard, entered her credit identification number, then hit Transfer. Everything she owned now belonged to the neuro-trancers. With her account completely emptied—the so-called donation to the Mother Dawn deity—he could now continue.

    The man nodded and grabbed a large syringe from a metal table next to the monitor tracking her heart rate.

    Will it hurt? she asked.

    He paused and tilted his head at her. No more than the pain we endure in this life. Then you’ll get the happiness you deserve.

    She swallowed hard and nodded just once.

    He approached her, lifted the shirt sleeve on her left arm, and brought the needle toward the exposed flesh.

    Wait! How … She cleared her throat. How fast does it take?

    He paused, the large needle containing an orange fluid leveled at her forearm. "You will be trancing before I even stop pushing the plunger. You can try to count before it takes effect, but I have never had anyone reach three."

    With her index finger, she scratched an itch at her hairline. Okay. She took a deep breath in and held it for a second, then blew it all out. Let’s do it.

    His orange-gloved hand holding the needle now moved toward her again. The tip pushed into her skin, making an indent, then poked through the surface. Praise Mother Dawn.

    She inhaled through her clenched teeth, waiting for either pain or bliss—she wasn’t sure which to expect—and mumbled her response, Mother Dawn be praised.

    The orange-soaked room swirled in her vision. Dots and hues of pastel colors she had only heard about in stories invaded her sight. Yellows and greens and baby blues and lavender superimposed over the orange room.

    Until the room was gone.

    Orange was gone. Dust and dirt and grime were gone. Then more colors than she even knew could possibly exist exploded around her, and she exploded with them, becoming a singularity with them, as she winked out of existence.

    The trancing was completed. And there was no returning. The neuro-trancer had saved her, had removed her pain and suffering, and, for all her worldly assets, had awarded her with a one-way ticket to the only afterlife so many people believed in anymore.

    Right here. In a place they could only refer to as Shangri-la.

    2

    Adam sat on a trail rail in the empty subway tunnel, hunched over a metal trinket he had found earlier in the week, a tiny screwdriver in hand, a monocle covering his right eye. He scrunched his eyebrows to concentrate, closing his left eye so his right eye could focus clearer through the magnifying lens. He used the screwdriver to try to pry off the center tab that connected three circles.

    Need some company? Adam’s best friend, Jonesy, slid into a sitting position next to him.

    I wish I knew what this was. Adam pinched the center of the orange item between his thumb and index finger and spun it. His voice echoed through the empty train tunnel without ricocheting, proving the bottomlessness of the dark corridor.

    Jonesy took the item from Adam’s hands and studied it. You find this during the last raid?

    Adam nodded and adjusted his position on the metal train rail to alleviate some uncomfortableness in his buttocks. Same time Maggie found that old gun.

    Did she bring the gun back?

    Adam chortled. You haven’t seen her wearing it every day in her waistband?

    Jonesy shook his head but smirked.

    Adam smiled too. Maggie’s childlike wonderment when finding new things seemed to help remind them all that they were still young, even if they were fighting an adult’s battle against the megacorporations.

    I haven’t seen her toting a gun, but that doesn’t surprise me. She wearing it like those people in the Wild West in those history books of yours?

    Pretty much spot-on. If she could find herself one of those horse animals that used to exist, she would be a rootin’ tootin’ cowgirl for sure.

    I … don’t even know the words coming out of your mouth, Jonesy said with a chuckle.

    The cold and dark train tunnel had proven to be a wealth of supplies and magical discoveries. They had pilfered so many items from the abandoned railway cars, items people once owned—from a time so long ago that those people just may as well be dinosaurs at this point.

    Adam leaned his elbows onto his knees, while flipping the trinket through his fingers. I don’t think it’s a worship device. Doesn’t look like it has any circuitry or electrical components, Adam said.

    Not everything was electronic in the Age of Destruction. This might be something as simple as a child’s toy.

    Adam guffawed. Could you imagine living in a time where we would have things to just play with, that served no other purpose than enjoyment? What a crazy time that must have been to live in.

    Jonesy patted Adam’s knee, then swiped a clump of long black hair from over his eyes to behind his ear. You have an unhealthy obsession with the days of the ancients. You know that, right?

    Adam slid the monocle from his bright blue eyes and gazed at Jonesy. Is it unhealthy to want to learn about a time that only left us relics and no concrete descriptions of how life was for them? Doesn’t that intrigue you? That people lived right here, where we live now, so long ago, and the planet was so incredibly different?

    Jonesy ran his hands along the orange fabric of his pants, then clapped once, sending the sound down the tunnel and into the void of darkness. I’m more intrigued at how we will eventually bring Cyber-Corp to its knees and restore the government to its rightful power.

    Adam chuckled and moved his legs underneath him so he could stand. See? You are a romantic as well. The only difference between us is that I romanticize about the people of the past. He proffered a hand to help his friend get to his feet. And you romanticize about the people of the future.

    Well, none of this romanticizing will finish cooking the stew, so I gotta get back to making dinner.

    They pulled themselves from the tracks and onto the subway platform. Ahead, Adam saw the moving silhouettes of their clan—a small band of renegades, misfits, rebels even, who had vowed to put a kink in Cyber-Corp’s distribution of their Synchestria Implants. The only price that came with trying to take down the largest megacorporation in the hemisphere was that hired assassins would do anything to stop them.

    scene-break-on-white-bg_25

    Venus watched Adam return to their main living area on the subway platform, with Jonesy splitting off to finish cooking. She squinted to decipher what Adam carried. She believed it was the trinket he had found on their last raid on the railway cars farther down the tunnel. A smirk touched the left side of her mouth when she thought how childlike Adam could still be, even though they were all approaching their twenties. She found it hard to believe they were almost halfway through their life expectancy. She thought it a cruel joke, that just when they felt like adults and were graduating from their teens, they were already cresting the hill of a normal lifespan.

    If Mother Dawn turned out to be a real, tangible entity—and not some fabled deity that the elders had concocted to keep everyone in line—Venus would have choice words for Mother Dawn about the unfairness of how short their time was on Earth. Venus had heard that the ancients had lived until eighty, ninety, and sometimes over one hundred years old. There was no proof of course—just anecdotes passed down through the centuries—but she found it wondrous, if not improbable.

    Their small band of cyberpunks—at least that’s what Cyber-Corp had dubbed them—bustled around Venus as she stood still, waiting for Adam to reach her. She slid the twine from her ponytail, ran her fingers through her hair, then resecured the ponytail, hoping she had captured any rogue wispies. Her heart pattered when Adam stopped in front of her.

    Baffled, I tell ya. I’m baffled. He handed Venus the trinket.

    She flipped it over in her hands, her eyes like slits. I haven’t seen anything like this in any of the books we have found. She raised her gaze to meet his. Why do you care so much about this anyway?

    He gently removed the item from her fingers and stared at it. It signifies how much we still don’t know about the ancients.

    And that ignorance is driving you crazy, she said with a playful smile.

    Driving me batshit crazy, as I think they used to say in old-speak.

    Venus chuckled and beheld his ice-blue eyes. It was the one attribute that separated Adam from everyone else she had ever met. In her nineteen years, she had only ever seen orange eyes on a human. In fact, nobody she knew could remember meeting anyone with anything other than orange eyes.

    Adam ran a hand through his moppy black hair and tugged on his orange vest to straighten it. Maybe it’s futile. I dunno. I just hate not knowing what the ancients used something for.

    Venus interlaced her fingers into his and turned him so they could walk across the platform and toward the cooking area. The band of deviants—cyberpunks—had commandeered an ancient office as a firepit haven for cooking and heating water for bathing. Inside the office, Jonesy was on his haunches, dipping a row of freshly killed rodents on a large stick into a large pot of stew, resting over the licking flames.

    Smells good, man, Adam said and strode past the firepit. Are any tea leaves left?

    Jonesy leaned back and pointed. I think so, in that box.

    Adam found a few leaves that didn’t smell pungent, crumpled them in his fist, and dropped them into a mason jar, ready to add hot water once the firepit was free. You want some? he asked Venus.

    She shook her head. Maybe after dinner. She focused on the tall, lanky teen cooking their supper. Making my mouth water, Jonesy.

    The scent of the charring rodents made Adam’s stomach growl with anticipation.

    scene-break-on-white-bg_25

    Happenstance had piecemealed together the band of six cyberpunks during the last few months. Only Venus and Adam and Jonesy had known each other prior to the group solidifying. They all sat in a circle, eating Jonesy’s gourmet meal. Sounds of slurping and munching wafted down the dark tunnel to the left and to the right of the platform, not echoing the sounds back to them. Long-forgotten LED lights were still operational and illuminated the platform and what constituted as their home.

    Cherie reclined with her palms behind her, while stretching her legs in front of her. She used the tip of her tongue to dislodge a piece of rodent meat between her two front teeth. I still don’t know why we aren’t gonna hit the factory tomorrow. Let’s just light it up and watch it burn.

    Adam side-eyed her without moving his head. We don’t have enough intel on the structure. After a few more missions inside, then I’ll be comfortable.

    Venus grinned at Adam’s leadership role. None of the six had picked a leader verbally, but Adam had inserted himself into the alpha role through his steadfast demeanor of not wavering when he thought he knew best. And the rest of them seemed to just fall in line behind him, like puppies.

    Cherie rubbed her dirty palms on her orange pants and rose. I’m gonna turn in. No sense talking about this. Not like I can get you to change your mind. She disappeared into a dark office, doubling as her bedroom, then stuck just her head out the doorway. For what it’s worth, I think waiting just gives Cyber-Corp the time it needs to completely dismantle what remnants we have left of a government. Then where will we be, Adam?

    Adam shrugged, unfazed by her hyperbole.

    Mony shook her head. For someone who despises authority, she sure doesn’t give you too much of a fight.

    Venus chortled and put her palm against her lips to stifle any further noise. She knew when Cherie was really worked up, any snickering sent in her direction could very quickly turn into exchanging blows with the gruff teenager.

    Maggie used her hands to sign, asking what Cherie had said, as she hadn’t seen Cherie’s lips to read them.

    Mony signed back, relaying the conversation.

    Maggie nodded her acknowledgement, then shook her head in disagreement of Cherie’s attitude, spinning her index finger next to her temple to indicate how she thought Cherie was crazy.

    Mony signed to ask if Maggie wanted any more dinner, and she declined. Mony rose, patted Maggie’s shoulder, and headed toward her own office-turned-bedroom.

    I think that’s a great idea, Adam said, resuming his inspection of his new toy as he spun it. Maybe we should all turn in.

    Jonesy began the process to snuff out the fire and to collect the uneaten food. He gave a halfhearted salute to Adam. Upon his way to retire to his makeshift bedroom, he glanced at Maggie’s back and recognized the small bulge under her shirt. He chuckled to himself. He hadn’t noticed it before and silently applauded Maggie for keeping her newfound gun relic so discreet. They all deserved to have their own little joys, especially if it made them happy in such a desolate time.

    Venus followed Adam into his living space and sighed heavily.

    A credit for your thoughts, Adam said while stripping off his shirt.

    I know Cherie can be a little too spontaneous for comfort—she took his hands into hers—but, if you remember, the first debate is next week.

    Adam squinted at her, unsure what she was implying.

    A new president, voted in by those higher-ups at Cyber-Corp, just puts law and order further down the priority and gives the megacorporations more power to data-collect and to control.

    Adam stepped backward but didn’t release his hold on her hands. So, you think we should strike the factory to disrupt the election process? Even if we don’t truly know the ins and outs of the property?

    Venus bit her bottom lip. She knew she had to be delicate here choosing the right words to get Adam to understand how dire this situation might get. Destroying millions of Synchestria Implant microchips would set Cyber-Corp back months and might be just enough to tip the scales on Election Day.

    Adam ran his hand through his shaggy hair and pierced her with his ice-blue eyes. Cyber-Corp is too powerful. Democracy is dead. The megacorporations pick the president. You know that. The polls are just to keep face. None of those votes actually matter.

    Venus stepped toward him. For Mother Dawn’s sake, do you really believe that? Because, if you do, then what are we doing here? Why are we outlaws? Why not just join the population above—she pointed ceilingward—and sell our souls to the devil, like everyone else?

    Not everyone. He narrowed his gaze at her. Only the weak-minded.

    That’s where you are wrong, Adam. She pointed at his chest. The poor. The hopeless. The trapped. Those are who have been targeted. That doesn’t make them weak-minded. They truly believe they are doing what’s best for themselves and their family. It’s commendable.

    Adam chuckled and grabbed his new toy to spin it with his two fingers. Commendable to allow Cyber-Corp to surgically insert an implant into your brain, that records and transmits to them everything you see, touch, taste, hear, and even feel? Purely for the sake of data-collecting?

    Commendable to do whatever it takes to put food on the table and a roof over your head. I don’t blame the population for taking the handout. People aren’t the enemy here. I blame Cyber-Corp for creating such an evil method to line those people’s pockets with enough credits to care for their families.

    He delicately placed both hands on her forearms. "The Synchestria Implants are evil. You know that. They are using our own actions, opinions, and thoughts against us. And I don’t think it’s purely for marketing’s sake or to make our lives more fulfilling by giving us what we didn’t know we needed. I think it’s more …" He paused and looked down.

    Venus spun to face him. More, what?

    More dangerous than that. World War Six dangerous. Information is currency. What happens when Cyber-Corp becomes the wealthiest entity in the world? And not monetarily. Wealthier than the superpowers of the world. Do you want a megacorporation running the free world? I don’t. And that’s why more and more ragtag teams of us so-called cyberpunks are springing up all over the country.

    Venus nodded, knowing he was right. Do you really think if there are enough of us, we can make a real difference?

    "If we keep growing as a movement, and if those other teams take it as seriously as we do and actually act upon it, I think we have a fighting chance to put the power back into the

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