Knight of Novus: A Post-Dystopia Novel

By Alydia Rackham

Old allies become mortal enemies in a war between pure logic and emotion.

John Cannon was once a ruthless killing machine. The Elder Knight for the Kingdom of Novus--a new world where emotions had been eradicated by an implant, and everything that created perceived "inequality" between citizens of Novus was confiscated and destroyed. But John Cannon became a Traitor and killed the King, and rebels destroyed the emitters to the implants, allowing the people of Novus to experience emotion again. Now, John is learning to navigate this foreign territory with the help of these rebels, and to raise his children in a more "human" way than he's ever known, all the while trying to salvage remnants of the world that existed before. But not everyone is content with sailing the rough seas of these newfound emotions. What happens when the other former Knights of Novus decide that they want nothing more than to go back to the implant and erase all emotion, as well as the old world, forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alydia Rackham
• Release date: Apr 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224547241

Alydia Rackham

Alydia Rackham is a daughter of Jesus Christ. She has written more than thirty original novels of many genres, including fantasy, time-travel, steampunk, modern romance, historical fiction, science fiction, and allegory. She is also a singer, actress, avid traveler, artist, and animal lover. 

Book preview

Prologue

A WORLD AT PEACE.

No terrorism. No genocide. No war. No slavery. No violence.

No murder. No theft, no vandalism, no fraud, no cheating.

No corruption. No deceit.

No insult, or offense taken. No cruelty or unkindness.

No racism. No foul language, no name-calling, no arguments, no disagreement or discord. No criticism, no hateful opinion. No religion. No hurt, no abandonment.

No jealousy—no possessions that aroused pride or superiority or offense or irritation. No difference in clothing. No difference in status. No difference in class. No difference in houses or vehicles or neighborhoods. No waste. No pollution.

All tranquility. All safety. All security. All efficiency. All steadiness and reliability. All provision.

All made possible by the Regulator Chip: a tiny implant at the back of the skull that suppressed almost to nothingness the human capacity for emotion.

Developed by a group of scientists determined to save the planet, and a group of peace-makers determined to save humanity. One of each was elected to superior office by the majority, and freely given complete authority to commence their rescue mission. One took the title of Viceroy. The other began with the title of Chancellor, and eventually changed his title to King.

And under their reign, styled after benevolent, chivalric kingdoms of old, the King and the Viceroy created a civilization unlike any the world had ever seen. They named it Novus. Ultra-modern, extremely efficient and inclusive to all its citizens—making each man, woman and child an essential cog in their magnificent machine.

Out of necessity, and a concern for the safety and happiness of their people, they eventually created a brotherhood of Knights—proficient in the deadliest forms of combat—to root out the hateful, backward, bigoted dissenters who would not accept the chip, and to re-educate them. Or, if that failed, to execute them as Traitors. To hunt down every object, no matter how old or rare, that might bestow superior or unique status to its possessor and create offense and discord—and to destroy it. To maintain the pristine, the orderly, the calm, the safety, the beauty, the equality of the Kingdom of Novus.

At any cost.

Three generations passed. The King gave his mantle to his daughter. She bestowed it upon her daughter. She passed it to her son. The Viceroy did the same.

Then, one day...

A sub-sonic shock cut the air like cannon fire.

For a single instant, an alarming pain shot through the heads of millions of people.

And the Viceroy and King together tumbled from a window in the highest skyscraper in the city, and slammed into the pavement—both of them impaled upon the sword of the Elder Knight of Novus. 

Some men and women of Novus awoke that first day, glanced into the face of the sunrise, and were suddenly stricken with a painfully keen surge of wonder and awe that they had never experienced in their lives. It rushed though them like a flood and held them captive, rooting them to that spot on their bedroom floor, thrills running up and down their spines.

They hurried into their kitchens and splashed cold water on their faces, and when the icy liquid streamed down their cheeks and necks, they jerked back, their eyes widening, because for the very first time, that sensation caused life and awareness to cascade through their bodies.

Terrified but filled with curiosity, they ventured into their sitting rooms, and suddenly, with potent astonishment and realization, they registered the unique beauty of the familiar faces they had never considered before.

With shaking voices, they called their little ones to their arms.

They wept.

Foreign. Startling. Utterly wonderful.

They had been freed. Freed from the stark, blank, peaceful, emotionless chains that had always bound them.

But others...

Others shocked into wakefulness at five a.m., screams and gunshots and the hiss of gas chambers echoing through their minds.

Dreams—dreams of wild violence and cold slaughter—now haunted their waking eyes. And as they sat there in the dark, sweating, the horror of what they had done in service to the King bombarded them in an barrage they could not begin to understand.

It took mere moments for them to decide that they wanted it gone. Because if they had to live with the screams of the thousands they had killed ringing through their ears forever, they would certainly go insane.

Chapter One

WE'VE FOUND ANOTHER one, John stated.

Already? That's two in the past week.

We're in luck.

Sir John Cannon, his floor-length, blue, high-collared coat sweeping behind him, strode down the tall-ceilinged corridor, his boots and his Socius' echoing against the hard floor, perfectly in sync. John had dark hair; handsome, sharp, striking features, a frowning brow and flashing black eyes—eyes that focused straight in front of him as he took practiced, even strides.

Where is it this time?

John glanced over at his Socius, who had spoken: a good-looking, younger man with sandy blonde hair that hung down in his bright blue eyes. He wore jeans, a maroon shirt and a casual leather jacket. In Novus, Socius meant companion, partner—but over these past many months, John had found him to be far more valuable than that word could imply.

In the far north end of the Pale, John answered, his voice deeper than his Socius', and more level. In a basement.

Good, came the reply, and the two of them pushed the front doors of the skyscraper open, and stepped out into the warm, midafternoon sun.

John took a deep breath of the slight breeze as he descended the dozen stairs, casually surveying his surroundings, per his custom. The streets were not busy at this time of day, and the sun hung high enough to overreach the towering, gray buildings.

A sleek, black vehicle built for maneuverability and speed waited for them at the bottom of the stairs. John swung around the front of the car, opened the door and slid into the black leather driver's seat. His and his Socius' doors slammed shut at the same time. John turned the key in the ignition, and the engine rumbled smoothly.

Something needs to be done with that building. His Socius pointed to a tall, austere, empty building that stood alone on a block. A library, maybe. Actually teach people to read. Might encourage people to start writing books again...

John didn’t comment—just winced.

In half an hour, they crossed a narrow steel bridge, flanked by battered, abandoned watch-stations, and left the city, entering the Pale. His Socius always ceased comment when they passed this border, and merely stared out the windows at the tumbling, foggy ruins. It seemed darker in the Pale, somehow. Haunted.

At last, they pulled up in front of what had been a bank, before The Purge. After John shut the car off, the two men glanced up at the brown, desolate brick building for a moment. Then, they climbed out, rounded the car and headed up the stairs. Their footsteps on the paving stones resounded flatly through the empty air. Just a hint of a breeze brushed at John's dark hair, but did not displace it. He reached the landing and glanced around behind him. The dead city lay utterly quiet, besides the trash fluttering in the barren streets. He swallowed, and his brow tightened.

He turned, and tested the brass doorknob. It clattered in protest. Of course it was locked. He took a step back, briefly set himself—

Wait, wait, his Socius cut in, throwing up a hand. Don’t break anything! This door’s an antique.

John, frowning and stepping back, watched as his Socius pulled a tool out of his pocket, bent down, and stuck a thin shaft of metal into the lock. After a moment of fiddling, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.

John shot his Socius a narrow look. His Socius grinned.

John stepped over the threshold, feeling his Socius right on his shoulder. He heard his Socius slide his gun out of his holster.

Relax, Thomas, John muttered, glancing around the dusty, cobwebbed entryway. I'll protect you.

Thomas snorted.

The corners of John's mouth twitched upward slightly, and he continued farther in.

Glass littered the floor, doubtlessly from some old raid when all the pictures in frames had been broken. The shards crunched beneath the men's feet as they made their way swiftly yet cautiously forward. John took another deep breath, paused a moment, then turned left and passed the threshold of a broken wooden door.

All that lay beyond was a small, mostly bare, white office. A single window in the north wall bore some curtains, and as all the glass had been smashed out of the window, the curtains rustled in the outside air. A wooden desk lay upturned in the center of the tan linoleum floor, and one ceiling