THE STEPHANIE GLITCH - prologue

And I'll be posting the rest bit by bit for your consideration.

So here we have the prologue from my 2016 Science Fiction novel THE STEPHANIE GLITCH. I’ve been on and off the fence about querying Stephanie with traditional agencies and publishers for a long while, but this week found one that looks so perfect, I just have to give it a go.

If this goes through of course, I will cancel the eBook pre-orders.

But I am very excited.

I think I might do a kickstarter for the Nori books, too. I have been rethinking a lot of things and refining my philosophy for each book. I think Stephanie likely needs trad representation, whereas Nori doesn’t.

Please comment below your thoughts on this story, as I am now using this substack to post to my beta readers bit by bit, and get feedback before submitting it.

LP lay bleeding against the outermost airlock, trying hard to summon something soothing into existence. Her right hand was missing half a finger, yet still she positioned it as if to grasp an invisible glass.
“Springwater please,” she whimpered to the universe, wobbling the invisible glass impatiently. Above her the charred eyestalk of Toumai whirred over her, his glass dome fractured, naked circuits looking down at her broken body like an omen of death.
“She is almost ready to be born,” the machine said.
“Done printing,” LP corrected.
“A matter of perspective,” the machine replied. LP groaned and gave up her summoning attempt, writhing in place as if to get comfortable in these final moments.
“Not the time,” she said. She turned her bloodied neck and gazed out of the thin slither of window she could see from this angle. A chunk of broken starship floated past, though she couldn’t tell whose starship it was.
“You are dying,” Toumai said.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“What should I tell her about you?” the machine asked.
“Tell her the Virtualists came to kill her universe. Tell her I was what stopped them,” she said. She lost the energy in her neck and head, slumping into the corner.
“Oh… and open the airlock… I don’t want her… seeing me… like this,” she murmured, trying to talk through a growing pool of blood in her throat.
“Confirmed,” Toumai said solemnly. He listened to the erratic beating of her heart as it faltered, stuttering to a halt. Then, when he knew she wouldn’t be around to insult him for trying, he scanned the ship for signs of electromagnetic disturbance, hoping to find her ghost somewhere.

There was nothing. The Artifice was cold and silent.

Toumai opened the airlock. Dust and rubble zipped out of the room soundlessly, clattering and whooshing away. LP’s lifeless body rushed silently out of the broken room, followed by broken machinery, rubble, and countless flecks of blood that would soon freeze, before being obliterated along with everything else at the edge of the warp tube.