The Burn Victim Who Starts Fires: A Pulp Sci-Fi Tale: Man vs. Machine Series, #1

By Spencer Honor

Twenty five years ago, rebels fighting to free humanity from the clutches of the Authority blew up a bomb right in the epicenter of the dystopic Sector Zone. One of the victims was a five year old boy who had his entire face and body burnt beyond recognition. Now grown up, Travis - THE BURN VICTIM WHO STARTS FIRES - has virtually lived his entire life as a freak and is willing to do anything - even work contracts that help the same rebels who disfigured him and risk being sent to an Authority gulag - just to pay for a newly invented procedure that can make him look normal again.

Thus begins the story of THE BURN VICTIM WHO STARTS FIRES: A PULP SCI-FI TALE, BOOK 1 of the MAN vs. MACHINE SERIES.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spencer Honor
• Release date: Dec 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501406997

Spencer Honor

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Book preview

Chapter 1.0

Grey skies. A steady rainfall. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen the sun. I’m not complaining though. The rain tends to always be acidic these days, which means that we can’t ever leave any part of our body exposed if we don’t want our skin burnt. How ironic.

In this packed street, I feel like one of too many sardines in this tiny can we call the Sector Zone. I finally see the subway terminal across the street, but the red light prevents me from crossing. I check my watch: 0727. I can’t miss this appointment. A raindrop falls on my exposed wrist. It burns like a motherfucker. Shit. Haven’t I been burnt enough?

The light turns green. I cross the street and duck into the subway terminal. No surprise there’s a huge line at the entrance way, but the sheer number of passengers wanting to get in isn’t the reason why the line is stuck at a standstill - the line isn’t moving because a man with a walking cane stands in the front and refuses to move.

The man scans the barcode on his wrist against the scanner again. The door still doesn’t open and the message, Access Denied once more appears on the message board overhead. A security guard finally steps forth.

Please step away from the scanner, sir, says the security guard.

Why can’t I get in? asks the man who doesn’t step away.

You don’t have the credentials, says the security guard who grabs the man’s arm.

When the fuck do I need credentials to ride the subway? asks the man who pulls his arm away.

It appears that you live in the wrong sector, sir.

What the fuck does that mean?

It means too many suspected rebels live in your sector.

So it’s guilt by association now?

It is what it is.

But I’m no rebel.

I don’t make the rules, says the security guard as he yanks the man away from the front of the line to allow for other people to scan their barcodes and enter the subway terminal. If you got a complaint then go file a petition with the Authority.

Fuck the Authority.

The security guard pulls out his baton and strikes the man in the face. The man drops to the ground.

I hear that shit again and I’ll give you two limp legs, says the security guard.

This situation is becoming incredibly uncomfortable. Thankfully, the line is moving at a brisk pace now and my turn is up at the scanner. I scan the barcode on my wrist. The door in front of me slides open. I genuinely feel bad for the man, but I got problems of my own.

I walk through the door. Immediately, the ground I stand on begins moving and takes me to security check. Usually, the security personnel working there understands we’re going into a huge scanner that can peer through our clothes and see any guns or explosives we may have on us, but every so often a dickhead security guard will require us to take off our jackets and most importantly, the scarves around our faces. Sure enough the dickhead today wants me to take off my jacket and scarf. I hesitate for a moment. I have no choice though. I take off my jacket and scarf. The dickhead looks at my face. His eyes widen before looking away as fast as he can.

Fuckin freak, he says.

I go through the scanner. No explosives are found on me. I wrap the scarf around my face as quick as I can and step onto the subway platform.

The television overhead is on. Ski masked rebels hold guns to the heads of blindfolded gray suited men. One ski masked rebel distinguishes himself from the others by wearing a green hat and standing in the forefront. He speaks directly to the camera.

The Authority will never catch us, says the green hatted rebel. Because we are the faceless majority that can be anyone, appear anywhere and attack at any time and until The Authority begins addressing the needs of the people, we will always be a pain in their neck.

The green hatted rebel slashes the throat of a blindfolded man. Blood spurts everywhere.

The world is a terrible place, but I have problems of my own.

Chapter 2.0

I sit in exam room one. A doctor examines my face through a magnifying glass. My