Soul-Augmented Part 1

By Kas Smith

As a rise in natural disasters threatens mankind’s existence, millions of people fall into irreversible comas—they are called the Unknown. Society has become a crumbling victim of corporatocracy, whilst virtual reality has become its addiction.
Amidst the chaos, young theoretical physicist Joshua Smith, is obsessed with the fulfilment of his life-long invention. So distracted by his work, he not only ignores the tragic state of the world but his partner, Savannah. That is, until Savannah falls prey to the Unknown condition.
Distraught by his neglect and refusing to accept his loss, Joshua decides to abandon his life’s work to solve the mystery of the comas. However, he discovers that the natural disasters and the comas are actually linked to his proposed invention.
It’s soon revealed, that his research has been stolen by a secret society to achieve what man has only dreamed possible. Joshua must now make a choice; either refuse to play a part in their nefarious ambitions and lose Savannah forever, or join them to save the woman he loves and the souls of many.

Soul-Augmented is 'The Time Machine meets Stargate - hard science fiction novel', which takes you on a journey that challenges man’s concept of death like never before.

This book is an Augmented Reality novel. Contained within the chapters are markers which can be scanned to reveal extra content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kas Smith
• Release date: Aug 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9780995456150

Kas Smith

Kas Smith is a science fiction and fantasy writer, member of the British Science Fiction Association and founder of Sci-fi Visionaries. He has a Bachelor’s degree in Electronics and Communications Engineering and has worked primarily in the telecommunications sector. He's also and a fan of systems theory and social science.When he’s not writing, most of his time is spent developing his own products which focuses on renewable energy harvesting and micro-power generation.If he has any time left between his science and science fiction, he reserves this for his charity work in youth and community development, and holidaying to the sunny Caribbean where he would spend most of his days - if he could.He founded Sci-fi Visionaries to use the power of stories to build great worlds... in order to build a greater world.You can find out more about Sci-fi Visionaries and Kas Smith at http://scifivisionaries.com/

Book preview

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Chapter One

Does SHE

cross

hIS mind?

The stamping of hurrying feet rang out along the overcrowded high street. No one ever strolled out in the open anymore. They hastened to their destination, avoiding the jagged chunks of concrete pavement jutting out of the ground and the broken debris of steel beams and brick wall from all of the half-standing buildings which littered the streets. There was a time when public services would have attempted to repair the city’s infrastructure—to prove London could endure. But they soon realized that the natural disasters were relentless and that the rising cost now reached into the tens of trillions. There would be no rebuilding, not here or anywhere else on Earth. Not for a lifetime.

High above the heads of the masses, a spectacular veil of near-black clouds darkened the sky. Non-uniform in their formation, they allowed fractions of the sun rays to pierce through gaps, providing just enough solar energy for the phosphorescent materials of the buildings to keep the city illuminated like a dull day.

Forcibly squeezing his way through the sea of moving bodies, a sweaty man in his early thirties mustered all the sincerity he could conjure into his apologetic face as he pushed through the populous. His shouts of ‘pardon’ and ‘excuse me’ went unregistered as the streets swelled with more and more Segway and bicycle riders. With many of the city’s roads unsurpassable by car due to flooding, earthquake and hurricane devastation, two-wheeled vehicles became the most convenient way to travel—whether they were petrol, electric or manually powered.

Jumping out of the path of a speeding Segway rider, he stumbled into a businessman’s briefcase.

‘Watch it, tosser!’ yelled the man, while his hand grasped his Genius Control Device. The smartphone had become so much more to still be given a name associated with making phone calls—they did everything.

‘Sorry, mate!’ Joshua said, half-turning his head, with perspiration running thick and fast down his brown skin. Remorse was absent from his tone, but the displeased businessman had no chance to respond. Fleeing and turning back around, he crashed into what he had hoped was another earthquake safety alert display screen. It was, in fact, the chest of another young man.

‘Oi! You wasteman!’ the teen said as he flew off his hoverboard. He squared up to Joshua’s less opposing slim physique with his shoulders globed. The young man’s attire, a carbon copy of the masses amongst them; a weatherproof jumpsuit with matching headwear, fashioned as a cross between bucket hat and a full-brimmed hard hat.

‘Sorry!’ Joshua said, skipping as if to take off into a sprint, less concerned about the threatening youth and more about his final destination. It was not unusual for half the people you would see to be augmented reality projections, and he had grown too accustomed to passing through people, only knocking into a real person occasionally.

To avoid further collisions, he jumped into the road, his socks becoming instantly soaked by the floodwater beneath him. He sighed, wondering why he hadn’t worn his protective boots like everyone else. Savannah gave him an earful for never dressing in hazard wear. He just loved the rugged feel of his trusty wearable tech jacket with its multiple pockets packed with an emergency kit, sensors, power bank and numerous inductive charging pads for his innumerous devices.

A voice took his mind off of his waterlogged shoes. To his left stood a man on a cracked brick wall, just barely sturdy enough to hold his weight.

‘Make peace with God, for the time is near! His wrath will soon be upon us,’ the preacher said, dressed in a white tunic and holding a wooden cross high above his head. He preached loud enough to divert the attention of a hopeful few.

As a small crowd gathered close to him, a beam of the brightest yellow light projected from his cross like a firework shooting straight upwards. Its trail transformed, spreading out the way a fire would following along thick lines of gasoline, until it formed a brilliant cross than consumed the sky.

Joshua turned away from dazzling light, squinting his eyelids so only a sliver was visible. ‘Son of a…GCD: Turn off layered vision.’ His device complied, deactivating his nanotech contact lenses that almost all but the poorest charter citizens had implanted as babies. They allowed augmented reality constructs to be viewed without needing to look into handheld devices or a headset. The five-story high cross had disappeared before his biological eyes, along with the dozens of floating billboards and thirty per cent of the crowd. Now Joshua knew the man was a nutjob—breaking the size restrictions on an AR projection would have cost the street preacher more crypto-coin than he could afford, but to preach religion in his physical form meant he had an issue with breathing.

Police pulled up on the motorcycles and rushed to the feeble man, beating through the bystanders with their extractable batons. They bashed the man repeatedly, yet he continued to yell as he crawled across the rubble.

‘The demons walk amongst us. I have seen them. Only the righteous will be saved. For the time is near.’

Enraged, the five policemen activated the microwave heat function of their batons and burnt the preacher’s flesh to a smolder. His words turned to screams, until shock sunk him into unconsciousness and he was carried away.

Joshua witnessed the assault but brushed off any regard for the familiar scene as he switched from leading with his left then right shoulder, forcing his way through the slower moving crowd. He passed the bottleneck of bodies that were squeezed together to avoid a collapsed road and the giant crater it left in its wake. Snaking through the crowd, he slipped into a disheveled florist, nearly kicking over an orange ceramic pot. A matchstick-thin, decrepit woman waved her shaky hand at the man from behind her counter.

‘Go away! We’re closed!’ She dusted residual soil off the wooden countertop.

‘It’s 4:30; the sign says you close at…’

She took a split second to survey his stained, worn-out tech jacket and the browned collar of his white shirt underneath. ‘The news said we might get a nine-point-four. I have to pack up before it hits.’

Determined, Joshua edged forward, palms facing her. ‘Wait a minute. I understand your concern, but earthquake or not you still have a business to run, right?’

‘We’re closed!’ she replied in her harsh cockney accent. She came around the counter, pushing past Joshua and began bringing in the flowers from around the doorway with as much urgency as her frail body would allow.

Joshua stalked her. ‘I’ve got to get something for a special lady.’

‘The till’s closed, come back tomorrow.’

‘But today’s a special day,’ he said, both his pitch and his hands rose high.

‘And you seem to be special needs.’

‘Now, this will only take a minute. This is important.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know who this is for. Poor girl. Why are you such a jerk? If you did what you should be doing as a man you wouldn’t have to be bothering me to open my till.’

‘True indeed,’ Joshua said.

‘Of course it is.’

‘But I would postulate, if there existed no jerks such as I, you would not be making such good money in these dire times. Good money like what I’m about to pay for that bunch over there,’ he pointed to the three-flower-bunch which stuck out amongst the plastic-wrapped scores of red roses. ‘The hibiscuses.’

The old shopkeeper paused, squinting her eyes at the man’s discolored jacket which had loosening seams by the elbows and sported a few small holes. Then, she squinted even more as she dared to cast her failing sight towards the hibiscuses. A thin plastic protected the blossom, and an elegant bowed ribbon was the icing that complimented it.

He lifted his wallet. ‘I’ve got a fiver here with your name on it,’ he said with his cheeky smile.

‘What, five suron-coins?’

‘No, five pounds,’ his boyish grin expanded, hoping she would have use of the old currency.

‘Piss off! Do I look like some black-market trader? You want the charters to shut me down? Save that change you received from the hooker you got caught with, love.’

He held his GCD in his inductive gloves, searching through an assortment of digital currencies on the display. None of their balances were advantageous to his position.

‘Insufficient funds, Joshua!’ said a monotone voice on a handheld device. ‘You have insufficient funds in—’

‘Mute GCD!’ He turned back to the lady; his smile now infected by awkwardness. ‘My wallet’s a little low on crypto at the moment.’

‘You don’t say.’

‘But these notes will be collectors’ items one day.’

‘Do I look like I’ve got a hundred years to wait for that?’

‘No, you certainly don’t look—’ he saw her eyeballs enlarge as they were about to combust. ‘I didn’t mean it in—’

‘Eighty surons!’ the stone-faced woman said.

‘Eighty surons?’ his mouth remained wide open after he replied. ‘It’s not magic beanstalks that you’re selling here, ma’am?’

‘Do you know how rare purple hibiscuses are these days, mister?’

‘Not as rare as your beautiful eyes. I couldn’t help but notice them ever since I walked in. A second’s gaze into them and one could lose themselves—for all eternity.’

‘That will be a hundred surons… smart ass!’

LAYERED VISION

Suron coins

***

In a cramped and cluttered flat, a woman sat on the edge of the couch with a glass of wine in her hand. Her red and black tight-fitted outfit denoted that even in the comfort of her home, classy was the only style she knew.

She stared at the TV, losing the fight against boredom as she waited for the charter broadcasts to complete. Before you could watch anything, do anything, everyone on Earth had to listen to the charters’ messages. The channel that one chose determined what charter’s rules, information and doctrine one had to endure. The sovereignty of nation states was a thing of the past. Government no longer ruled, corporations did. She smiled, remembering a time long ago when if a kid wanted a scooter, or a doll, there were hundreds of brands to choose from; when sole proprietorship still existed. Within the corporatocratic regime, the globe was locked in, only four mega-conglomerates controlled everything. One can only work for four companies. They were known as the Four Charters.

As her employer was the AATUC charter, it was wise for her to stick to tuning into their channels and only her will to survive got her to the end of their advertisements for corporate citizenship. That same will held her captive to a news headline that flashed on the screen, which read Factory closed: workers refuse to turn up due to a security guard’s claims of a creature sighting. Her body, though impaired by her two and a half glasses of wine, released a slight shiver at the news. As she moved to change the channel, her Genius Control Device vibrated, and the name Chichima appeared both on her GCD