Here Be Brave New Worlds by @libraryoferana et. al. is a Dystopian Festival pick #dystopian #bookish
Boxed Set Title: Here Be Brave New Worlds Bundle
Story Titles and Authors:
Platypus J. D. Brink
Six Sci fi Stories Volume Four Robert Jeschonek
Dystopia Charles Eugene Anderson
Of Myst and Folly Leah Cutter
Utopias Book 1 Don Viecelli
Brainwaves Barbara G.Tarn
Ultraviolet Joseph Robert Lewis
Terra Incognita Karen L. Abrahamson
The Reckoning Russ Crossley
Ice Monarch Michele Laframboise
The Last Ant Dawn Blair
The Consensus Harvey Stanbrough
The Last Forest A. L. Butcher
Genre: Dystopian/SciFi/Dark Fantasy
Worlds on the brink of apocalypse, or already there.
Nature’s wrath and dominion over humanity, and humanity’s folly incarnate.
Dark magic, terrifying tech, greed, ravaged environments, rare courage and grim hope in lost cities and fallen worlds.
Brave new worlds or last best hopes -- Dare you glimpse the future?
Excerpt 1 – Brainwaves by Barbara G Tarn
"Kayo's Liberty Summer Camp Checklist," she read. "What's that?"
"Let me see!"
Bel grabbed it and quickly went through it. Thank heavens for Kayo's habit of using obsolete pens and paper notebooks! He had even kept a journal at some point, but she didn't see those notebooks anywhere around the living room.
What was this, though? Not fiction, not a journal. Maybe notes or research for something he was writing?
"It's a list of things for a long journey," she said, disappointed. "This looks like an expedition with no return!"
"Well, he didn't come back, did he?" Shani said.
"No... and this doesn't say which way he went."
"Any chance of finding those notes?"
Bel put the booklet in her pocket, resuming her search.
"He used notebooks, he can't have taken them all. He had too many."
Shani was staring at a painting at the head of the bed. "That has a subliminal message," she said, pointing. "You don't see it at first, but if you stare at it long enough..."
Puzzled, Bel stood next to her. It looked like a normal painting of Rainbow Town, done with a pixelated technique that meant digital painting. Not even a 3D one, but it looked strange.
Soon pixels started dancing in front of her eyes and sort of rearranged themselves into a sentence.
"Find the Darknet, it's the only way out," she whispered.
Excerpt 2 – Platypus by JD Brink
Reassigned. That’s what the men in white suits had said. Jackson had been reassigned.
When Benjamin had arrived at work that morning, there had already been two men in blazing white jackets and ties rifling through Jackson Toller’s desk, collecting everything into a cube of darkness; a black box with no apparent opening.
Today was not white suit day. In fact, there was no white suit day. Today was Tuesday and the prescribed male wardrobe for professional men on Tuesdays was the sable-black suit with a charcoal bowtie. These men, whoever they were, wore only white. A white so clean and bright that it almost hurt the eyes to look at it.
That was strange. Anything out of the ordinary in Risen Cleveland was strange.
Excerpt 3 – The Last Forest by A L Butcher
The whine of the chainsaws, and the rumble of iron machines cut through the growing sound from the forest. Death came on tracks of metal and wheels of rubber. The monkeys who commanded the machines waited, smoking and pointing towards the edges of the forest. “Where do we start?” one asked, eyeing the trees.
“Make your way to that big old one – the tallest. That will take out plenty when it falls. Look it’s three-quarters rotten anyway! Break the heart of the forest and tame it! That is how it’s done, lad.” The speaker pointed towards the Great Oak, satisfaction creased his face, and power gave his countenance a smirk. The monkey who walked on two feet was lord of the land and knew it well. He had brought death to flora and fauna of this land, and their sap and blood soaked the soil. And he ignored the cacophony of music around him.
“This is the last patch of woodland in the country, the only unspoiled wilderness left,” someone said, from the back. “Must we?”
“It’s coming down. It’s needed for houses - people are more important than trees. They are just plants.” The foreman glared at the speaker, as the wind began to blow around them. “It’s not the last, there’s that coppice over in Haydock, and the Amazon of course.”
“The Amazon went a decade ago, boss. And that place in Haydock was bulldozed last year.” The first speaker reminded him.
The boss shrugged. “Not my problem. We have our orders. Now get to it, there is no place for conscience or sentiment here.”
The machines snarled, they spat their poison breath and rumbled forward, inexorable, awful. Monsters of modernity, some had called them. Progress had been their name from others. All the trees understood was the choking stench and the inexorable roar of impending death. Trees are not complicated, but they are not stupid. The knowledge of the wood pulsed through every branch and root; the force of nature, the will of life to survive surged.
Crack! The sound of tons of wood uprooting drowned the roar of the engines. It was the sound of defiance. Earth showered from roots, and leaves swirled as the mighty trees moved. Nature stopped; from red fox, and blackbird to tiny grey mouse life paused – the cry of war flowed through the ground, squeaked from the lowliest and sung from above. ‘We come! We stand! We fight! Nature Rises!’