Rood Der: 13: Poking the Universe

By Douglas Christian Larsen

Rood Der: 13: Poking the Universe. Rodney has it all under control, even when the extremely large tarantula scrambles out from beneath his bed, and the guy in the mirror starts signalling, and the elephant-sized giant shakes his neck and spine until something is going to snap, Rodney has it all under control. Or maybe not. Be careful what you dream, because you might not be able to wake up.

How deep are we, immersed in this world we call reality? How many turtles down do we go, in this discombobulated, mixed-metaphor, rabbit-hole world?

Their world might be based on Ayn Rand, her writings, philosophies, and her U.S. Presidency, but how dense are their numbers compressed, and for how long will their simulation even run? This little group has been provided an exit, but would anyone be rude enough to dare and leave their very own reality?

Take the Rude Dare, and Cross over, where data is data, through the Red Door. From the author of Vestigial Surreality comes the new serial novel, Rood Der.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781365867781

Book preview

Rood Der: 13: Poking the Universe

Rood Der: 13

Poking the Universe

The Sunday SciFi-Fantasy Serial

by Douglas Christian Larsen

ISBN: 978-1-365-86778-1

© Douglas Christian Larsen 2017

The kid with the big glasses snuggled into the corner of his bed and read his book, his eyes swollen and captivated, his lanky, skinny body folded up into itself. His big ears were trained like radar dishes, in auto-scan mode, surveilling for the sound of Papa’s slippered feet approaching, but his mind was fully engaged in the story of a monster shark, a monster that apparently had a vendetta for all humans, but especially naked women. Rodney was unsure of this aspect. Why naked women? It made him feel funny, kind of unsettled, because the monster shark did kind of have it in for attractive women.

Today was Shabbos, and Papa didn’t like him reading anything that wasn’t on the Rabbi’s approved list for Sabbath-reading material, and just in case, he had his Chaim Potok close at hand, The Promise, which he liked well enough—he’d read it five times, the first time when he was only seven years old—but these days he couldn’t get enough with the monster stories.

Today he was engrossed in Peter Benchley’s Jaws, newly out in paperback, and he adored it, except for all the sex parts, which quite frankly, he just didn’t...get. He understood sex well enough, he knew where everything was supposed to go between a woman and a man, I mean come on, he was almost eleven years old and he had heard about this stuff for years, all his friends knew about it, and they loved to share, and Papa had explained things, sort of, but in this book the people just didn’t seem to get it, they were doing everything all wrong, even using their mouths, and what kind of crazy was that? It was all kind nauseating, to tell the truth. He wished they would get it right, because that would make it all the more, I don’t know, delicious.

Still, the shark stuff was really, really good. And Rodney didn’t really feel guilty about reading a popular novel