The Taylorean Directive Episode 1: Die and Learn

By Edwin Stark

New York Megacity - April 1st, 2449 5:45 A.M.

Gloria began her day by being positively, physically, undeniably dead. As if that wasn’t the worst that could happen to her that day, she must do an uneasy truce with Alexandra Hastings a.k.a. Alluring Blonde the AI that had framed hear almost fifty years before, pursuit an insane Jamal and confront BlueHair Enterprises and its owner, both bent on Earth’s destruction to attain their goals according to the Tayloristic Plan.

Can she stop them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edwin Stark
• Release date: Jan 27, 2011

Edwin Stark

Hello, my name's Edwin Stark, and I was born in Caracas, Venezuela. That's South America for the few geographically-challenged ones out there. I suppose that somehow the stork had just stumbled out from a pub while it was delivering me, (it was confused to say the least) and mishandled my humble persona, leaving me stranded in this unlikely place. Having German ancestry, I spoke that language as a toddler, but my Mom had the misconception that I'd fit better here if I spoke Spanish, so that tongue was lost during my growing years. I grew up dreaming crazy tales and was my teacher's pet when it came to composition class—but not in deportment: that was for certain—and as I grew up I tried to get noticed as a writer by submitting to every magazine and writing contest available in my home country. No such luck; the publishing market in Venezuela is utterly locked out: you can only see your words in print if you're already a notorious politician or a TV celebrity. Since I wasn't in the inclination of becoming a serial murderer to achieve notoriousness and get published, the need to rethink the approach to my writing career became a must. Eventually, I decided to switch languages and start writing in English. I was already proficient in that language... but was I good enough to tell stories in that fashion? I then started to write short stories, effectively dumping my native language. I wrote nearly 200 short stories during a period of about eighteen months, slowly learning the nuances of story-telling in another language than your own. I already had the benefit of having the knack of telling a tale; I only had to adjust. 190 of them short tales certainly sucked; 10 were really neat, but the important thing was the learning process. These ten tales eventually made it into Cuentos, the short story collection which became my third book. I succeeded so well in tearing myself apart from Spanish, that almost everyone I meet online says: "I CAN'T BELIEVE ENGLISH ISN'T YOUR FIRST LANGUAGE!" So far, I wrote four books: AI Rebellion, a rather preachy cyberpunk thriller that still shows the struggle of switching languages (and I only recommend people to read it if they're on an archeological mood, as in if they're interested in seeing my progress as a writer), Eco Station One, a very bizarre and funny satire, the aforementioned Cuentos, and The Clayton Chronicles, a rather cookie-cut vampire tale. All these are available for the Kindle reader on Amazon, in paperbacks and all e-book formats in Smashwords.

Book preview

THE TAYLOREAN DIRECTIVE EPISODE 1: DIE AND LEARN

By Edwin Stark

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Edwin Stark

For Jessica del Carmen Pereira Cedeño, the Pelucita from Guiria

Amber Mendez, the ghost of a woman

And Angela Cevedra, the mad dragon

women I loved and who didn’t give a damn.

CHAPTER 1

AMAZONIA – March 29th, 2449

The inauguration went on with much fanfare, as was usual with any event related with BlueHair Enterprises. The plastic flags with their electric blue logos flapped against the Amazonian wind, while a very brass orchestra played the company’s hymn reminiscent of John Williams’ Imperial March. Mr. BlueHair himself cut the inaugural ribbon—a blue one, of course; imagine the cheek—with a big pair of scissors that resembled two scythes bolted together for the occasion. The man looked a bit sweaty and uncomfortable as he stood upon the stand, and gave a little speech about the personal honor involved in the official unveiling of his company’s five-terabits-per-second NetWorldNet wireless access service. He said it standing against the impressive backdrop, which consisted of the remainder of the Brazilian rainforest and the humongous five-miles wide parabolic antenna his company built expressly for this task. The air was filled with a sweaty, sappy aroma by-product of the razing of twenty-five square miles of rainforest, a fact that in its proper time put the environmentalists into an endless frenzy, but Blue managed to cut these protests short with another of his snake oil salesman’s smiles, while promising that this was the final grievance against Mother Nature: he had bought off all the rest of the Amazonian rainforest from the Brazilian government, with a ten years lease he planned to renew as long as he lived.

The man looked about sixty, preternaturally locked in that age. He seemed to blend against the backdrop despite his six feet height and his electric blue Mohawk hairdo, his company’s trademark and personal signature. Today, he had decided to forgo his customary gray trench coat and wore, in addition to his jeans and work boots, a silk shirt with rolled-up sleeves and sweat-stained at the armpits.

Blue concluded his speech with a small declaration about being happy to provide users worldwide hi-speed NWN wireless access, with its five-tera-per-sec; more than enough for all multimedia files and holokeyboards conferences everywhere. He donned a specially chopped hardhat that allowed his blue Mohawk to peek out from a central slit, making him look like an odd Roman Centurion and then unrolled a big, green flag that he started to wave shamelessly in front of the news cameras. The clicks and flashes seemed to erupt and flood the atmosphere as his image was recorded for future history and broadcasted all around the globe, where only one person in the public took a worthwhile notice of the event. The only person in the entire world who knew this was the same BlueHair she had met and known nearly fifty years before—and the only one who knew the truth.

If the Brazilian government hoped to profit from that ten-years lease, that person thought, expecting the property in question—the rainforest—would revert to them when Mr. Blue kicked the bucket in another two decades or three to say the most, that was a fat chance of the highest order.

Fat chance indeed.

CHAPTER 2

NEW YORK MEGACITY

April 1st, 2449 5:45 A.M.

Gloria Theodora Jefferson woke up that morning feeling utterly fine and without aches. Which was very unusual, considering the fact that she was an eighty-six-years old lady with all the ailments of her age, including some stiffness in her joints and a few complaints over her inner plumbing. She stretched her arms, expecting the usual pops and the little pain she would earn in her right elbow for doing so. None came: she didn’t found it unusual but took it as an excellent sign that she would have a good day today.

Adding to her old age illness, she went to bed last night a little depressed over the public display of BlueHair’s latest shenanigans in the media. She was a little more than amazed over the notion that no one noticed that this man was the same one she had met nearly fifty years ago. In fact, in another three days exactly, it would mark the fiftieth anniversary of their meeting. And yet, at that moment, Blue had been nearing sixty, also. A six feet weirdo with a blue Mohawk that looked like a punk, and someone who had been sixty during that brief slice of time ought to be nearly a hundred and ten years old by now.