Marlowe Kana (Volume 4)

By Joe Peacock

*** Volumes 2 & 3 now available! ***

"Dude! I blew through Volume 1 on the plane to Omaha! So good! I'm so hooked!"-- Matt Chapman, Co-Creator, Homestar Runner

"If William Gibson had any literary heirs -- the family tree would include Warren Ellis, Jonathan Hickman, and now... Joe Peacock, a powerful youngster in a genre that could use a jolt to the system. Peacock writes with expediency and para-military precision. His characters don't just leap off of the page -- they strap on jetpacks -- and blast out of it. If you are into Black Mirror, Bruce Sterling, or the cyberpunk genre, this IS the book you need to have in your life."-- David Gallaher, Vampire: The Masquerade, Green Lantern, Incredible Hulk, Iron Man

"If Ghost in the Shell and Neal Stephenson's novels are things that catch your interest, you owe it to yourself to check out cyberpunk expert Joe Peacock's first scifi novel."-- Olliver Kirby, Funimation

*******************

In book 4 of 9, we open on the aftermath of the events of book 3. It has been 16 days since The Tragedy at Terminus Citadel. An EMP detonated by an unknown faction during the Next Top Soldier finale has left Atlanta in ruins. Millions of people are dead. Hundreds of thousands are without homes or power. And Marlowe Kana is missing. While the Sovereign struggle to keep refugees safe and alive, President Cook continues his publicity campaigns. Something's gonna give.

This eBook contains Volume 4 (chapters 31-44) for easy reading in your reading platform of choice. Read new chapters of the Marlowe Kana series for free at the website -- a new chapter is published every Monday!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joe Peacock
• Release date: Jan 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463545645

Joe Peacock

Joe Peacock is an author, screenwriter, producer, web developer and culturenaut. His latest book is the start of the Marlowe Kana series, a three book, fifteen volume story borne of his love of cyberpunk, near future sci-fi, anime and vaporwave. 2017 has seen a massive resurgence of Peacock's work. He wrote and produced the critically-acclaimed documentary series Screenland (on Hulu and RedBull.TV), released the new Marlowe Kana series, and consulting on the new tour of the Art of Akira Exhibit (which he owns and curates). Previously, Peacock wrote two books of hyperbolic autobiography, both called Mentally Incontinent, and Everyone Deserves To Know What I Think, which collects from his work from CNN, Huffington Post, AOLNews, PC Magazine, and his blog. He also worked for Fark.com, which if you know what that is, I'm sure you're very impressed with.

Book preview

Marlowe Kana - Volume 4 (Chapters 31-44)

Copyright 2019 Joe Peacock. All Rights Reserved.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. No person or entity associated with this story received payment or anything of value, or entered into any agreement, in connection with the depiction of tobacco or alcoholic products. I just like them a lot, so I mentioned them.

A Word On Sharing:

Please share this book with anyone you see fit.

If you received this book from a friend and liked it, all I ask is that you buy the future volumes and share them with your friends. The individual dollars and pennies don't matter to me nearly as much as being able to write for you. Your financial support is appreciated, but word of mouth is worth 100 times that—so spread the word, share this book, and keep reading!

Thank you for your support!

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

31. Pardon The Interruption...

32. A Day In The Life Of: Stefan Douglas

33. Terminus Elegy

34. Amuse Bouche

35. Thousand Year Stare

36. In Tents

37. A Day In The Life Of: Marian

38. Tanked

39. Mommy Issues

40. A Day In The Life Of: Jayson Bristol

41. Down & Out In The DMZ

42. Fifteen Minutes At Seven Hundred Degrees

43. Teambuilding Exercise

44. Rocky Mountain High

Credits

About Joe Peacock

Other books by Joe Peacock

Connect with Joe Peacock

Acknowledgements

Without Beth Watson, Meghan Hetrick, Rowena Yow, Joseph Rhodes, Jason Covert, Rachel Weatherly, and Casey Edwards, this book would not exist.

Extra special thanks to my Patreon supporters: Adam Simmons, Akiradice, Amanda Blohm, Angela, Austin Schenoni, Beth Johnson, Brandon Copp-Millward, Christopher Cholet , Dave Williams, David Gallaher, David Willis, Elizabeth Khimani, Eric Brown, Eric McConnell, Frances Shaheen, Genny Platon Johnson, Gio Rossi, James Francey, Jason Covert, Jason Erickson, Jason Fleury, Jeremy Halvorsen, Jeremy Ryan, Jesse Hogan, John, Jon Peters, Jon Scheiber, Joy Johnston, Justin McElderry, Keith, Kitty Nicious, Lan Pitts, Luca Piazza, Luka Kladaric, Mark W. Schumann, Matthew Warlick, Meghan Hetrick, Melissa Ross, Mike Thompson, Nat Fairbanks, Nicole Sweet, Patricia Chapman, Raul Valle, Richard Quartarone, Robert Scott III, Scott McDaniel, ScullyRaptor, Sean M O'Leary, Shawn Hill, Stefan Blitz, Ted Ladue, Tony Caudillo, Trey Alexander, Tyler Haas, and @Bombtune.

Original Soundtracks for Marlowe Kana Volumes 1, 2, 3 and 4 by Sinewave Sionora are now available! If you like techno, hardcore, vaporwave, or good music in general, check them out at:

http://sinewavesionora.bandcamp.com/

For Beth.

31. Pardon The Interruption...

Stephen Cook, President of the United American State, had just completed his sixteenth CookTalk in sixteen days. Once again, it was a phenomenal ratings success. His points resonated as intended, and his unwavering delivery was eloquent despite his extreme exhaustion following the EMP blast at Terminus Citadel and the subsequent wholesale destruction of Atlanta.

To honor his successful speech, Cook was currently indulging in yet another post-CookTalk coital celebration. Sensual soft jazz from the previous century cooed softly throughout the dimly lit room as a digital replication of a warm fire crackled on the massive wall screen across from his bed.

Suddenly, a harsh, buzzing crackle echoed throughout the room. The fire on the screen separated into rectangles of varying colors, stuttering and breaking apart as the signal was hijacked once more by the guerilla Sovereign group, who had been responsible for the commandeering of the national Feed satellites for the last few weeks.

I am Hank Collins, the voice of the Sovereign, the familiar voice rang out through the speakers in the Presidential bedroom of the New White House.

Oh, God DAMN it, President Cook shouted from underneath the silken sheets of his bed and between the legs of one of his lovers. JAQi! Mute!

A tone sounded. My apologies, sir, this Feed has been locked and marked unmute-able and—

We have emancipated ourselves from the corporate prison of Imagen Corporation’s societal control, and we come to you with news from the resistance in Terminus Citadel, Hank Collins continued loudly from the screen. His gaunt face and salt and pepper hair were dotted with the digital glitter of distortion, and his voice skipped and stuttered slightly from the constant band-hopping and node-jumping of the pirated signal, originating from yet another new source.

MARCUS! Cook screamed as he slithered downwards and emerged from under the sheets, standing fully nude at the foot of the bed. His lovers, Dominique and Edward Moore, stuck ruffled heads out from under the sheets.

A small window popped up on the wall screen and Marcus’ nervous face appeared. He looked at the President for a split second before averting his eyes in embarrassment and mild disgust as he caught a glimpse of his boss’ fully naked body.

FUCKING FIX THIS! President Cook screamed.

I’m working on— there! Marcus said, tapping a button on a tablet Pod off-screen. Hank Collins disappeared from the screen and the lilting notes of light jazz once again filled the room.

Why haven’t you found these assholes yet?! Cook demanded. I put you directly in charge of—

They keep finding new ways in, Marcus said, averting his eyes from the screen as President Cook stood furiously with his hands on his bare hips.

I am growing tired of these interruptions, Cook insisted. As much as I hate to, I’m authorizing you to reach out to Chairman Davis if you have to. Certainly he knows something about this.

Yes… Yes, sir, Marcus said, tapping the screen and terminating the call as quickly as he could.

President Cook seethed for a moment. He looked over at the bed, where his two confused but still very aroused bedmates awaited. He shook his head and sighed.

Okay, then, where were we? He said briskly before marching back to bed and falling between his lovers.

.

32. A day in the life of: Stefan Douglas

"Well how the fuck would I know where to find a Mayan statue?!"

Stefan Douglas’ voice shrilled over the percussion of his RealLeather loafers as he stomped down the antique Italian marble floors. The icy slush his shoes had picked up from the snow-covered streets squished along with the whirring of cleaning drones that trailed happily behind, slurping and sucking up each dissipating footprint. It was an ensemble performance of entitled frustration conducted by Stefan Douglas as he marched down the hallway of the 43rd floor of the Circle City Square Premium Condominiums, the most luxurious floor of the most luxurious building in the United American State’s capital city of Indianapolis.

Stefan’s pale complexion glowed an agitated rose in the wan light, his laugh lines creasing in frustration as he barked at his assistant on the cracked screen of his handheld Pod. A rare thing indeed: a person of Stefan’s status not having an implanted Pod and screen-enhanced eyes. It was an anachronistic quirk he found endeared his clients to him. The cost of constantly repairing the screen was negligible compared to the social capital the affectation generated.

And why are you asking ME, anyway?! He continued. "That’s what I pay you for, James! I don’t even fucking know who the hell Maya is, much less why someone made statues of—Oh, they were a whole race of people?! Well, la-dee-fucking DAH!" He held the Pod out from in front of his face and wagged his hands like a drunken orchestra conductor. His impeccably blonde-dyed hair (with a fashionable touch of gray still showing) flew agitatedly around his head.

A movement caught Stefan’s eye. Nerves zinged through him as he looked past the screen of his Pod.

His relief was palpable when he saw it was just the young couple who had recently moved in. They were all smiles as they ventured out to sample yet another high-end restaurant in their new high-end neighborhood. Stefan reflexively dropped the Pod to his side, softened his eyes, relaxed his brow, and stretched his mouth into a wide grin. They waved and smiled back.

The second they passed, he hunched over, clutched his gut, and caught his breath. Thank God! He said aloud. He held the Pod in front of his face once again as he continued tracking moist shoe prints down the hallway. What’s that, James? Well no, I don’t know who the Mayans were. And you know what? I don’t care! I don’t study art, I SELL it! And you broker it! And if you don’t find us a Mayan statue before tomorrow night’s gala, so help me CHRIST, I’ll—

— Mr. Douglas! A timid voice rang out from down the hall.

Stefan froze in place. Slowly and dramatically, he looked up from his Pod to see a petite, kind-faced, white-haired woman waving at him from just outside the doorway to unit 4341, across from his own condo unit. She clutched the front of her overcoat as she trotted his way. I’ve been trying to reach you all week! Can we please speak a moment? She trilled.

His heart leapt into his throat. His stomach churned and his mind raced as he calculated his path of quickest exit. He thought about turning and running back to the elevator, but the young couple had surely already taken it down. The windows at either end of the hall on the 43rd floor of the Circle City Square Premium Condominiums were sealed and security-monitored, and he didn’t carry any weapons, so both suicide and murder were off the table. He could rush past her and hide in his condo, but the only thing keeping this woman from sinking his hard-won VerifiedCitizen™ score of 9 (the highest that a citizen of high standing in United American society could achieve without being on the board of Imagen Corporation or being the President himself) was the fact that he had this little old lady convinced that they were the dearest of friends. He knew he had to face Mrs. Reynolds. He had to hold her at bay just one more day. The deal that would allow him to refund her (and save his ass) hung in the balance.

The week before, Stefan had stumbled onto the deal of a lifetime. He had been at some small society party. The host was a very valued customer of his, and he had felt obligated to attend. It went exactly how these sorts of things always went. He showed up late. He greeted the host with ecstatically fake kisses and feigned interest in wherever the marble flooring had been sourced, and snatched up two glasses of champagne from the first server to cross his path. He had downed one and placed the empty glass back on the tray, then sashayed through the soiree with enough style to be seen, but not so much flair as to be noticed. Things were expectedly dull, until he’d overheard a young gentleman discussing some antiques he’d recently bought at auction.

It turned out, this guy (you know the type... not quite young, but not quite old; average build, average height, average weight, average face) had been dragged by a date to some kind of open auction. He hadn’t known much about it. He just knew that Imagen’s Development Expeditionary Division, the force they sent westward to stake out new expansion cities for the United American State, typically sold antiques and art at these things, and he figured he might find a nice piece or two for his apartment… And you know, maybe then get laid. The other person in the conversation, a blowhard named Ambrose, had given a hearty laugh at that bit. He, too, used art auctions to get laid, or so he claimed. Stefan knew that Ambrose was in fact asexual. After all, Ambrose was one of Stefan’s closest friends… Or rather, was, before Ambrose had attempted to steal a deal of Stefan’s a few months prior. He had failed spectacularly and Stefan made millions as a result. The bitterness of the failed attempt had left Ambrose somewhat sour.

I know how that goes! Ambrose had said with a chortle. His eyes shot wide open when he noticed Stefan glide into the conversation.

Same here! Stefan joined in glibly. Those auctions… Terrible art, but tasty trim, you know what I’m saying? He had gently elbowed the average-looking man, who smiled and nodded and stuck out his hand in greeting.

Nathan Sterling, he said.

Stefan Douglas, Stefan replied as he grasped his new friend’s hand. He glanced at Ambrose, who returned a brief but noticeably defeated look. With Stefan around, there would be no art deals for him that evening.

Nathan had went on to explain that he, completely transfixed by the beguiling beauty of his date, had raised his BidBracelet randomly on some lot or another, not paying any attention until it was time to settle up at the end of the evening. He was shocked to find out that he’d won, for an insanely low sum, the entirety of the furnishings from the private residence of the former governor of the former state of Missouri. The price? A mere ten million credits.

Ambrose had sniffed. Well, I can easily cover that, if you’re interested in parting with—

Thirty million, Stefan countered. Now. He whipped out his cracked Pod and tapped on the screen