Endless Hunger

by Kevin Weir

Overview

Corporate espionage, cults, faeries.

It's 2133, and Earth has rebuilt after a global catastrophe.

Megacities, wireless tech, and augmented humans are all commonplace. What isn't common, is Kraft. Kraft sees monsters. This tends to get him in trouble, especially when the rest of the world doesn't believe they exist. For Kraft, even an easy job like cleaning a corporation's computer system involves a dark cult, a battle with faeries, and a computer virus that reaches into the real world.

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"A lot of what I believe makes Endless Hunger stand out is how it deals with the multiple genres it spans. The world that New Montreal exists in is built upon sci-fi technologies (Wireless communication, smart clothing, advanced security), but Kraft is dealing with fantasy problems (Faeries, vampires, wizards). Rather than juxtaposing the elements of science and magic, my work looks at the parallels. It sees how those parts of each genre can mix to create something new." - Kevin Weir, author

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"Weir's debut is a riveting, genre-blending adventure that will keep you guessing on every page." -- Jodi McIsaac, author

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781770531789
Publisher:	EDGE Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing, Inc.
Publication date:	07/30/2018
Pages:	264
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.60(d)

About the Author

Kevin Weir is an AMPIA Award winning writer of science fiction, fantasy, and comedy. A multidisciplinary storyteller, he has written short films, webseries, stageplays, as well as short stories. These short stories have appeared in places such as Red Sun Magazine, Enigma Front, and In Places Between. He lives in Alberta where he hosts The Third Space Podcast and lives with two dogs that he does not own, but are always around.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

"Name and date of birth?"

"Kraft. August 12, 2105."

The Unemployment Office was bustling. While most lines steadily rolled people through, my line had not moved an inch in the last ten minutes. If the looks from the crowd behind me could kill, I would be dead twenty times over. It may have been my fault.

"Kraft?" The large middle-aged woman working the desk looked at me with a half-cocked eyebrow over the rims of her thick glasses. A picture of a fat white cat sat on her desk, and "Delores Briar" was projected on the glass separating us. So far, the conversation had been circular, third time she'd asked me for my name and DOB. I was going hand over hand up Jacob's ladder. She pursed her lips and frowned at me. "Sir, for the last time, I need your full name."

"Just put quotations around it. It'll come up!" I can't stand my full name, and I can't stand bureaucracy. All I needed was open water to create a trifecta of hatred.

The UO had a special way of getting under my skin, always filled to the brim with grime, bodies, and mediocrity. Worst of all, it had a weird almond smell; I pretended it was cyanide pumping into my lungs. Poison seemed a better end than death by boredom. Or death by starvation if I couldn't figure out why my unemployment check hadn't shown up in my account this month.

"Hurry it up, laghole! I got things to do!" The insult came from the quickly growing line behind me. The semi-reflection of the divider showed a gaunt-faced man with a greasy skullet hairstyle. Northsiders.

"Steps back, Skullcap," I said, staring into his reflection. "You'll get your dome polish."

Skullcap shoved me hard enough that my hat flipped off my head when my face hit the divider.

I spun around and shoved two fingers against his chest. "Shut it before I shut it for you!" I forgot about lagholes; trifecta of hatred, here I come.

Skullcap growled at me, showing off a gap where a tooth should have been. He was either too cheap to get a fake, or thought it was cool. Let's see how cool you feel with them all missing. I stepped closer until I could smell the sweat on his stained hoodie. His gaze flicked to the security guard leaning against the sickly green-blue wallpaper in the corner. The guard tapped his stun rifle. Skullcap receded like his hairline and began looking at pictures on his phone.

I picked up my baseball cap. It was a little dirty, but not any worse for wear. I brushed the dirt off the HARDWIRE logo and put it on. Satisfied I'd

showed Skullcap who was boss, I turned back to Delores. "Just put it in, alright? Then we can both carry on with our meager little lives. Don't forget the 'K'."

Delores rolled her eyes and turned to her screen. The light reflected in her glasses indicated her thin glass monitor had turned on. I stretched to see around the metal screenback that gave Delores her privacy, but the glass divider kept me from seeing the screen. What I could see were her fingers typing k-r-a-f-t into the red light-projection keyboard.

She arched one of her eyebrows. Barely a second had ticked by. Evidently, something came up.

"I'll be damned, here you are. Kraft." It's like she didn't believe me.

"Wonderful! Now can I please get my check?" I rapped my index finger on the counter, attempting to convey "hurry up."

"You've been canceled." She yawned and clapped her hand on the desk. The light in her glasses disappeared and the projection keyboard shut off.

"Canceled?" I balled my hands to prevent myself from tearing out my own hair. "Why would they cancel my unemployment? Who can cancel my unemployment?"

"Your employer."

"I don't have an employer! Hence the unemployment checks I've been getting from you for the last year and a half!" I placed both hands on the window's ledge and put my face as close to the glass as my hat brim would allow. A red warning flashed. Please step back.

"Well, apparently someone hired you." Delores looked around me and waved for Skullcap to step forward.

I'm a little ashamed to say I threw a small hissy fit, flipping my green thigh-length canvas coat around to no desired effect. I took a deep breath and pushed all anger and annoyance down to my feet. Cutting Skullcap off from the counter, I swept off my hat and put on the sweetest smile I could muster. I was sure removing my hat left a mat of shaggy brown hair, so I mussed it up into something somewhat presentable. "Ms. Briar — er — Delores, if I may?"

"You may not." She crossed her arms.

"Fine. Ms. Briar, I don't work for anyone. I did work for someone, but now I don't. Once again, hence the unemployment checks. To that end, there must be some glitch. Are you sure you have the right file?"

Delores narrowed her eyes, seemingly attempting to use them to burn through mine. My charm had been ineffective.

"There is no one else in the system with only one name, Mister Kraft." She stood as though she was a giant. "You should feel lucky you had it for a year and a half as is. If you have a problem with your situation, I suggest you take it up with your employer, Glowing Future Technologies."

With that, the glass divider displayed a large, screaming red text: move along. I suppressed the urge to unleash every curse word I knew, dropping my hat back onto my head. Glowing Future Technologies. I knew exactly who to talk to. The only man at Glowing Future that had a score to settle with me. I spun around and smacked Skullcap's phone away before leaving. Showed him.

* * *

Glowing Future Technologies' head office was not far from the southern edge of Montreal Island, in the coincidentally named Glowing Future Tower. There were no short buildings outside the train's windows, only dozens of glass skyscrapers scattering light. I hopped off the train in the center of the Lighttech District, where most — if not all — the key developers of Lighttech-based technology were stationed. Stairs brought me to the streets where fleets of people bustled around south New Montreal.

"Sir!" A stick-thin vendor cut through the crowd. I lengthened my strides, but he slid through the mob like a snake through grass. "Are you in the market for a new screen? I have the Infitex Neo."

"I have a phone." I hurried to cross the street. The do not cross light came on and the crosswalk lines turned red. I halted at the curb and did my best to ignore the screen vendor I was now stuck with.

"Perfect, I suppose. If you want to deal with a tiny screen." He pulled up his sleeve to reveal a wristscreen. "This is great for on-the-go data management. I also have flexile, optic and the ol' reliable solid body."

I stared at the second-tier street a dozen stories up, trying everything to show my disinterest.

"I can see by looking at you, you're worried about the price. Well, it's nothing to concern yourself over. These are cheap, brother. In cost, not quality."

See by looking at me? My coat was a little faded, my jeans a little worn, and my stubble was a few days beyond the normal shaving schedule, but I didn't think I looked homeless.

"Don't tell me you're one of those Lighttech-bashers. Neo-Luddites are out of fashion these days. Look, brother, we're talking about the fastest connection to the Network here. Check out the net, update your status, even start your car faster than you ever have before."

I had to take a second to comprehend that. "You ... You can't be faster than instantaneous. It's not possible. Or at least not worth it."

"Not possible is not a word to me, brother! This is the hardware the transit line uses to manage all those trains and buses."

Now he was straight-up lying. The hub that New Montreal Transit uses to communicate with the Network is the size of a small car. NMT isn't even the biggest transit line on the planet, so he definitely wasn't trying to compare his

dinky screen to a place like London, Mosgrad, or Nuevo Tokyo.

The crosswalk turned white again and I started to cross, vendor on my tail. Glowing Future Tower had an impressive pavilion out front. The kind of display you'd expect from New Montreal's key producer of Lighttech. The head office was a full ten stories taller than any other building I could see and had twin videos playing on either side of its front door that expounded on every screen, hub, and receiver chip made by them. A gleaming tower among many more gleaming towers.

Suffice to say, with my ball cap and dirty coat, I stuck out against the polished architecture.

"You're not going to want to pass up these deals," the vendor said.

I had almost forgotten he was still shadowing me.

"Look at me, man." If I was going to be confused with a vagrant, I might as well abuse it. "Does it look like I have money to throw around?" I pointed at a group of people huddled around a table. One of them was playing something on his tablet. Their badges identified them as interns. "Try them, maybe they're looking to upgrade."

The vendor charged off toward his new prey. "Brothers! Are you interested in some top-of-the-line Lighttech?"

I never liked the word "Lighttech." It seemed far too obvious. Then again, there does seem to be a distinct lack of subtlety with these corporations. Or maybe everyone needs a pavilion and I just missed the memo.

With the vendor gone, I was free to return to the problem at hand, Glowing Future. Through the doors, I marched across the spacious glass and marble lobby. The entire first floor was a painfully cavernous void. A few chairs against the distant walls, but other than that, it was depressingly sterile. I pulled my black Gloves on as I approached the security area. A skinny security guard with an upside-down name tag, Daniels, sat next to a white bot. Daniels looked to be in his early twenties and was repeatedly trying to fix the knot in his tie. I tapped the gate as I passed, the circuits etched into the Glove's fabric pulsing slightly as I did.

"Hey, y —" Daniels started to say something but stopped in his tracks as I swept through the scanner. No sound, not even the slightest beep, molested my stalk.

"Uh, alright, sir."

The guard returned to his seat, satisfied by the scanner's result. I scoffed inside my head at the lame guard. They were taught to trust the equipment. Unfortunately, the equipment didn't always work for them.

I arrived at the admin desk and knocked on the counter. The clerk across the desk took one look at my unshaven mug with my Righteous Beer tee-shirt and stuck up a finger in a "one-second" gesture. He turned back to his phone.

He had an Acog Theory phone. Acog made fairly secure devices, but "fairly" isn't always enough. I tapped a few icons on the back of my right Glove. Not even a second later, the clerk's prattling about his weekend plans stopped. He frowned at his phone. Call failed blinked on the screen. With a sweet smile, I gently knocked on the desk again. "I'm here to see Mr. Godwin."

"He ... uh, do you have an appointment?" the clerk asked, barely looking away from his phone.

"Oh, he's expecting me."

* * *

The elevator played repetitive synthesizer music that drowned out all of my thoughts. I let it play for thirty seconds before touching the wall and shutting the song down.

"Name not found, Kraft," an overly cheerful voice said. "Do you find yourse —"

"None of that." I shut off the advertisement just as quickly.

It had been a long time since I had gotten to hack anything with my Gloves. Back with the Information Bureau, I was constantly putting them through their paces. These days, I'm lucky if I get to break into my apartment when I forget my phone.

I mentally slapped myself. Thinking about the charms of a spook's life was pointless. Warren Godwin was waiting for me at the end of the elevator ride. The clerk had rung him, so he knew I was coming. Who knows what kind of show he's planning to put on for me.

I exited the elevator with the ding and approached Warren's office. A screen next to the door read warren godwin: head of network operations. Warren was twenty-nine, only a few months older than me if I remembered correctly. Some say it's impressive for someone as young as him to be the head of anything at a company as large as Glowing Future. I say the impressiveness diminishes when your father is the company's largest shareholder. And your job could be replaced with a sign that says "DON'T FUCK UP."

I peered carefully into the dimmed office. Warren Godwin leaned back in his large leather chair, chewing on a fat cigar. A video projected onto the wall from the small cube on his desk. A smooth female voice talked over black-and-white images of war and destruction.

"It's been one hundred years since the Third World War destroyed much of our world. Tens of millions dead from the biological warfare, with tens of millions more deaths to come from the fallout. It was a setback, technologically and sociologically. The remaining population seemed unlikely to survive, forced to abandon the land poisoned by biological weapons. And yet, humans are not only surviving, but thriving."

The images changed to views of New Montreal and the laboratories of Glowing Future Technologies. Smiling scientists and citizens filled the screen. I rolled my eyes and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. Warren was showing off, acting as though he didn't know I would stumble upon this video.

"The Lighttech Boom has revitalized a dying world and Glowing Future Technologies stands at its helm. They are ready to push the United Americas into the future. Lighttech and smartglass will be —" The video froze. The last syllable repeated until the system gave up and shut down. I had heard enough of it. The office was left substantially darker.

Warren touched the display on his desk to bring the lights back to full. He paused for a long second, blowing twisting smoke into an outflow vent on the ceiling. Only once the last wisp disappeared did he turn to me. "Kraft, what a surprise."

"Nice digs, Warren." I leaned against the doorframe, motioning to the extravagant room that surrounded me.

Warren smiled and followed my motion. "I think it has its charms."

The office was mostly wood with a regular interspersion of screens. Like a glass factory had thrown up in a farmhouse. It was much like the lobby far below though. Too much wasted space.

The massive bookcase to my left brimmed with information on everything from virtual intelligence to post-Third World War rebuilding, but it was purely aesthetic. Warren Godwin was not the kind of man to waste his time reading, and if he did, it would be an ebook. An office bookcase was a vestigial ideal from times long past to give an impression of scholarly aptitude. Most of the pages were probably blank.

Warren chuckled to himself, moved the projection cube into a desk drawer, and stood from his chair. He adjusted his expensive looking pinstripe suit and ran his hand over his heavily slicked black hair. I've seen this act a dozen times from business types. He wanted to sell me something. He dropped his cigar into an ashtray and sauntered toward me.

"When did you start smoking?" I asked. "Weren't you the guy who brought salad every day?"

"It's the style." He showed off the dark vest beneath his jacket. "Pre- war retro. You need to advance with the times, not ... wear the same coat for two years. Your green's starting to fade."

"At least I don't look like a target, rich man."

Warren gave me an unsettling wink and turned back to his desk. "In university you occasionally wore sweaters."

"I'm surprised you even noticed me at school. What with your nose so far up the faculty's collective asshole." I pushed off the doorframe. Warmth radiated off the heaters in the slate gray carpet. It was pleasant compared to the November chill outside. But I would be damned if I let Warren know I was happy in any way.

I nearly leaped out of my skin when I saw the hideously large portrait of Warren — smirking his bastard smile and holding his suit's lapel like some pretentious Napoleon wannabe — next to the door.

"I always had an eye for potential, Kraft." Warren leaned on his desk, brushing a slight amount of dust off the surface. "I am to assume you hacked the scanner downstairs?"

"Yes." I had to tear my eyes away from the portrait's discomforting expression. I was sure it was a total coincidence that it was perfectly positioned to be seen from Warren's side of the desk.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Endless Hunger"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Kevin Weir.
Excerpted by permission of Hades Publications, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Editorial Reviews

"Weir's debut is a riveting, genre-blending adventure that will keep you guessing on every page." -- Jodi McIsaac, author of The Thin Veil series

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"Endless Hunger is a delightful combination of believably-constructed SF future tech and dark fantasy, all wrapped together into a noir mystery. The book doesn't stop there: the nature of identity, of love, and of humanity are all questioned as Kraft fights demons and outsmarts mega-corporation CEOs. A fast-paced book full of twists and turns that readers will devour (pun intended)." -- Susan Forest, Aurora Award-winning editor

From the Publisher