Superthread

By Michael D. Britton

I'm not who I thought I was. Neither is my wife. Now I must convince her of who she really is . . . or kill her. They tell me the future of the world depends on it. And I am running out of time . . .

Superthread is a novella about a war waged through time, deceit with a higher purpose, and the power of love.

Could you pull the trigger?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Intelligent Life Books
• Release date: Dec 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465900050

Michael D. Britton

Michael D. Britton has been writing professionally for 25 years, including heading up marketing departments, working in huge private corporations, writing for government entities, supporting non-profit healthcare systems, sprinting with tiny tech start-ups, freelancing, and a producing TV news broadcasts in the 90s. His short fiction has received ten honorable mentions in the Writers of the Future contest, among other recognition; and his novels have advanced through multiple rounds of the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award in various years. His list of indie-published fiction titles exceeds 65 and keeps increasing. Learn more at www.michaeldbritton.com.

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Superthread

by

Michael D. Britton

* * * *

Copyright 2011 by Michael D. Britton

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The building shook like a Turkish belly dancer. The lights went out, and the emergency lights did not come on.

It was pitch black.

As I stood in the corridor on the top floor of the World Trade Center north tower, I thought a hole had appeared in the roof, allowing a cascade of iridescent light to tumble in. But it soon became apparent that was not the case. A gentle, twinkling hum met my ears as the light quickly grew brighter, and my skin tingled as though I’d had a brush with death. The light faded, and standing before me was a man in an unfamiliar uniform – his visage lit by the glow of some kind of handheld computer.

He reached toward me with his empty hand and said, Come, quickly, there is no time to waste, Michael.

The building shook again. Caught up in the bizarre moment, I stepped toward him, my heart pounding, and was swept away in another burst of light. For an instant, I felt disembodied, and the next thing I knew, I was in a room that was clearly not a part of the WTC.

Welcome, said the man. I’m Commander Roman. I’m sure you’re feeling very disoriented right now. Please, just come with me and all will be explained.

My mind was racing with questions, but I kept my mouth shut, choosing instead to contend with the mild nausea in my stomach.

Commander Roman spoke, but not to me. Yes, he’s been secured. A pause. No, no there were no incursions – it was a clean recovery. I’m bringing him there now.

Roman stood a little taller than me, and I glanced up to his ear. I tiny blinking light in his ear canal explained his conversation – he had some kind of implanted communication device.

Why do I feel sick? I asked.

We can approximate Earth gravity, but there’s nothing quite like the feeling of having a planet under your feet. That sure, solid rock just can’t be duplicated, you know?

"No, I don’t know - I mean, that’s all I have ever known! What are you even talking about – approximate gravity?"

I’ve said too much already, said Roman. It will all be explained shortly.

We rounded a corner and entered some sort of conference room. One wall of the room consisted of a huge, floor-to-ceiling window. It looked to be nighttime outside – which