The Dog Is Dead: Inklet, #54

By Liana Brooks

Habitat? Earth. Not Prima, where the poor wind up. Not Stellar, the moon base where the wealthy and well-educated dwell. Just… Earth.

Identity? Slot 37B-12D5. Housewife.

Purpose? Nothing. Beyond merely existing, anyway.

But secretly, she dreams of something more…

A futuristic sci fi story for everyone dreaming of breaking free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkprint Press
• Release date: Mar 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393232391

Liana Brooks

Liana Brooks once read the book GOOD OMENS by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and noted that both their biographies invited readers to send money (or banana daiquiris). That seems to have worked well for them. Liana prefers strawberry daiquiris (virgin!) and will never say no to large amounts of cash in unmarked bills. Her books are sweet and humorous with just enough edge to keep you reading past your bedtime. Liana was born in San Diego and in addition to there has lived in Illinois, Colorado, Florida, Texas, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and Kansas. We'd like to tell you where she is right now, but last we checked she was researching books on both Alaska and Africa. Not only are the bookstore algorithms breaking trying to track this lady, but we can't tell you where to mail that daiquiri. Your best bet is to try Twitter where you can often find @LianaBrooks talking about her four kids, her giant dog, and plans for world domination.

Book preview

The Dog Is Dead

INKLET #54

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Liana Brooks

www.InkprintPress.com

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The Dog Is Dead

A pale half-moon hung above the pine trees as I walked in the noon sun, wishing instead that I could run. It mocked me with the promise of a life I couldn’t have, shouldn’t want. The wind whispered, stirring the flowers around my feet as they wilted. I was no good at gardening.

I wasn’t good at much, actually. But it was no big deal. Maybe a few hundred years ago when humans had eked out a living by growing their own food it would have mattered, but in the modern world where schooling was a matter of tissue programming and roles were chosen for everyone by a government program decades before they were born, being useful wasn’t necessary.

The entire purpose of my life was to exist. My parents had money, which was nice. It meant they could afford to own land here on Earth and buy me a modest education when I turned ten: three hours of reading, writing, and basic mathematics programmed straight into my cerebrum.

When I was fifteen, my parents bought me a secondary education, allowing me to discuss classic literature with