How The New Gods Terminated The Armageddon Virus: A Pulp Sci-Fi Tale: Man vs. Machine Series, #2

By Spencer Honor

On the verge of his first day as dictator where he can finally enact the changes "God" told him the country desperately needs, a corrupt ruler wakes up in a world where no one knows who he is and his godless nemesis is now the democratically elected leader...

Thus begins the story of HOW THE NEW GODS TERMINATED THE ARMAGEDDON VIRUS: A PULP SCI-FI TALE, BOOK 2 of the MAN vs. MACHINE SERIES.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spencer Honor
• Release date: Dec 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502254672

Spencer Honor

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Book preview

Chapter 1.0: Kris Upchurch

The sun hasn’t yet risen and it’s already sweltering. Only a godless race like the Ismarans would stake this hell as their holy land.

This might be my last sunrise. I feel rage all throughout my body when I come to this realization - not because my physical body is about to come to an end, but because there is nothing I can do now to stop these dirty mooks from going forth and invading our pure, white land.

Don’t be so dramatic, Kris, says a voice. You’re not dead yet.

Who’s there? I ask.

Sit up and find out.

I sit up. Amidst the carnage of the battlefield where many of my Kingstonian brothers lie dead, an old white man wearing a pristine white suit sits on a rock.

Who are you? I ask.

You know who I am, says the old white man.

Do I?

Think.

I don’t know.

Think harder.

I raise my gun and aim it at him.

Stop playing games with me and tell me who the fuck you are, old man, I say.

I am an old white man wearing a pristine white suit sitting in an Ismaran battlefield, says the old white man. Who could I possibly be?

I don’t know. God?

Yes.

You’re God? Why do I not believe you?

Because you’re a fuckin idiot, that’s why.

I pull the trigger of my gun. The laser that comes out of the barrel hits the old white man right in the chest, but it doesn’t hurt him. Instead, he just makes a hand gesture. My gun flies out of my hand and into his. He then begins to levitate and floats his way over to me.

Are you here to take me to the afterlife? I ask.

No, says the old white man as he tosses my gun back over to me. Not yet.     

Why have you come to me then?

Because your mission in life is not yet fulfilled.

And what is my mission in life?

To purify the land and make the whole world white, of course.

I am in Ismaran land. The majority of my unit is dead. When sun finally breaks, the mooks will find me and kill me. How could I possibly fulfill my mission in life and make the whole world white?

The mooks haven’t found you yet, nor are they aware of the fact that a bomb that only you can detonate is implanted inside of you.

It’s only a low grade bomb.

But still a bomb, nevertheless.

What can one low grade bomb do?

Out here - nothing, but the threat of detonating it in the right location? Plenty.

But where can I go in Ismar that could...

A thought pops into my head.

The Vanos, I say.

Where Wahal spoke to their prophet and etched into the rocks the Lakos, says the old white man. But can you get there?

It will be difficult, but I can and I will.

I know you will and this is why I put you on this planet. Now go forth and fulfill your mission.

The world will be white, my Lord. I swear it.

Chapter 2.0: Nathan Ng

I drive up to the Ismaran Authority office in Kingstonia City, the capital city of Kingstonia. As I wait for the security scan to complete so that the gate can open and I can go inside, the few Kingstonian protesters that are always loitering outside come to greet me. Their signs, Keep Kingstonia White and Get out of our country mook never change and their racist taunts are always the same:

Get out of our country, you dirty mook, says one protester.

Kingstonia is only for white people, says another protestor.

The gate opens. I wave goodbye to my friends and drive inside. Today is a big day. One that I hope will be the first step towards keeping these extremists forever on the fringe of society.

Inside the office I’m greeted by Payak, the Chief of Security, with a huge smile.

Good news, I hope, I say.

Great news, sir, says Payak who hands me a communication tablet.

I read over the transmission. It’s more than great news.

Is he downstairs right now? I ask.

Yes, sir, says Payak. We think he was looking at possible targets here in the capital when he sent a transmission that came across one of our security sweeps.

How many people know that we have him?

Only the two security guards downstairs and me.

Are we ready for the transmission?

Absolutely.

Payak directs me into an office filled with a number of other Ismarans on staff. I take the communication plug from the wall and plug it into the port on the side of my head.

!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()!@#$%^&*()

Instantaneously, my virtual presence appears in the television studio of the News. This studio is only several miles away from the Ismaran Authority office, but due to Kingstonian laws, Ismarans are not allowed entry into most Kingstonian buildings – including the