K.A. Wiggins's Blog, page 15
March 6, 2018
Cover Reveal
If you���re subscribed to the newsletter, you already got your sneak peek yesterday. For everyone else, surprise! In addition to a brand-new, professionally-designed cover, I���ve got some other exciting news: Blind the Eyes is competing in Kindle Scout!
What does that mean?
Kindle Scout is the American Idol of publishing
Readers vote on pre-published books during a 30 day period
Editors read the manuscripts at the end of voting
Amazon publishes the best of the combined editor- and fan-approved books in ebook format
Amazon sends a free ebook to everyone who voted for (���nominated���) a book that gets published!
So if you want a chance to get a free copy of BTE, head on over to the Kindle Scout website, nominate it and hope it wins!
And hey, why not vote for some other faves while you���re at it? You get up to three nominations at a time.
What happens if it doesn���t get chosen for publishing?
You have to have a fully edited, finished book to compete in Kindle Scout. If BTE isn���t chosen for a publishing contract, that just means I���ll be able to indie publish it even faster because it���s already complete and ready to go out the door!
Look for the release date announcement by mid-April. It���ll come out by May 30 or earlier. And for those of you who aren���t fans of e-reading, yes, I���ll be putting out a bound paperback either way (and an audiobook as soon as possible afterwards). Plus, since I���ve already hashed out the plot of the next Threads of Dreams trilogy book with my awesome editor Lisa Poisso, you can look forward to the sequel coming in 2019!
What happened to all that querying you were doing?
Wow, it���s been over half a year and there are still some outstanding queries! There���ve also been several agents requesting the book, so that���s a great sign that it���s a good quality read. The thing is, I���m just not ready to spend another year or more (at least!) working on connecting with traditional publishing, and it���s not the right choice for every book or every author, either.
I���ve done a lot of research on the writing business and what���s best for books, for authors, and for readers. I���m confident that the indie path is right for me and Blind the Eyes. So, sorry for the long-ish wait while I sorted that out!
Cover Reveal:
Isn���t it amazing?! Feel free to share across social media and blogs, but please be sure to credit my incredible cover artist, Regina Wamba, at Mae I Design (http://www.maeidesign.com/) when you do. :)
And don���t forget to nominate Blind the Eyes on Kindle Scout for your chance at the free ebook!
March 4, 2018
Calling all bookbloggers~~
If anyone has an opening on their blog or whatever social channel you're rocking and would like to get involved in sharing the news/boosting the signal, please DM!
For everyone else, subscribers get exclusive first looks, breaking news, & previews at http://kaie.space/newsletter
February 5, 2018
Turtletime
Official announcements plus some updates for the new year! Where things are at:
I just pulled all the preview editions from ebookstores. The three chapter special preview edition of Blind the Eyes has done really well on Amazon and the other usual suspects, but it���s also been up for half a year longer than I expected, since I pivoted from indie publishing to querying. It���s a little hard to continuously build momentum while also pushing the release date further and further into the future, so for the moment I���m pressing pause on all book marketing initiatives. However, I���ll still be present and active on social media, and the onsite and newsletter-exclusive extended downloadables will remain available!
& on that note, yes, Blind the Eyes is still under query until at least March 2018. There���s been some good feedback and several agents have asked for additional materials to review. I���ll review opportunities in March and update you all accordingly! I���ve been eyeing the Kindle Scout program, so if I do go indie, that���ll be my first stop (after the cover reveal! You guys, it���s SO GOOD and I���ve been waiting over half a year to show you!)
but the other reason I���m turtling into my introvert shell for the rest of winter, besides, y���know, just straight up waiting for tradpublishing to get a move on, is because I just finished developmental consultation on book 2 with my awesome editor last week! Friends, it���s gonna be good! Blind the Eyes is just the tip of the iceburg, and things get crazy FAST in book 2 . . . at least, that���s the plan. I start writing this month.
Speaking of book 2, it doesn���t have a name yet because I finally clued in that you can���t just ���borrow��� song lyrics for titles. Oops! Which means the trilogy needs a new name. I was thinking ���Threads of Dreams��� would be a good one. What d���you all think?
Other stories are still on hiatus too, but hey, I managed to word-vomit one short story. No you can���t read it (yet). I took a shot at writing a topical contemporary piece, and instead it turned into a weird, profane, and decidedly paranormal take on the Fentanyl crisis in Vancouver. So . . . yeah, I���m thinking I should take some time cleaning that up before sharing. But yay accomplishments - anytime I finish something with a beginning, middle, and end, it���s a good thing!
Freelance writing and consulting work is picking up for the new year, which is another reason to pull back. Find me at Business Writing Solutions for website, technical, and copywriting, among other stuff.
Still in the Pacific Northwest - I totally had a trip back to the UK planned, and then realized I���d double booked over my nephew���s first birthday! But hey, I���m more likely to get that book in your hands sooner if I���m not digital-nomadding my way around the world anyways, right?
Thanks for sticking around for this (looong) journey! If you haven���t already, sign up for the newsletter for freebies, previews, and news when books are available, or follow me on social media, Goodreads, or BookLikes for reviews of recent and upcoming YA fantasy. Links on your left.
December 19, 2017
Booktree 2017
Microupdate plus #booktree end of year shout outs to everyone who sent me books this year!
Where things are at:
Blind the Eyes (G&S book 1) is still under query, so the tentative indie release date has been bumped to March 2018. There���s been some good feedback and it may still get picked up by tradpub, thus the long runway. :)
G&S2 plot is mapped out and undergoes developmental consultation on Jan. 10, so hopefully I���ll be at least mid-draft by the time book 1 comes out! Currently expecting G&S will be a trilogy.
Serial fiction Things Got Out of Hand is finally getting a proper plot map! I haven���t decided whether to continue its draft zero as a serial or take it down yet, so keep an eye on Wattpad in the new year just in case :)
Tiptoeing into some short story writing, since the serials are necessarily on hold for a while yet. The zero drafts need some polishing, but expect some short reads in the new year in a wider variety of genres (I tried for contemporary, but so far I can���t help sneaking in some fantasy or supernatural elements into every story)
Been rounding out my freelance portfolio and recently launched Business Writing Solutions in beta on the boring grown-up side of my life. The part of me that isn���t compelled to write about monsters and magic tends to geek out over template automation and well-crafted copy, lol.
Still in the Pacific Northwest for the foreseeable future. Travel���s on the radar, but there���re just too many bullet points to tick off to make #digitalnomad-ing practical right now!
So! On to the shout-outs. Special thanks to Goodreads, 49th Shelf and artist & book blogger Iryna Khymych who have taken the trouble and expense to send me books this year!
As promised in the social media posts that you probably followed to get here, here���s the full list of books with review and shopping links.
Kidlit
A post shared by K.A. Wiggins | �������� bookaholic (@kaie.space) on Sep 6, 2017 at 12:35pm PDT
Mr. Crum���s Potato Predicament by Anne Renaud & Felicita Sala (Canadian Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
A post shared by K.A. Wiggins | �������� bookaholic (@kaie.space) on Dec 1, 2017 at 12:44pm PST
Dragonfly Song by Wendy Orr (Canadian Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
YA Reads
A post shared by K.A. Wiggins | �������� bookaholic (@kaie.space) on Dec 20, 2017 at 1:25pm PST
Son of a Trickster by Eden Robinson (Giller Prize Shortlist, Canadian Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
A post shared by K.A. Wiggins | �������� bookaholic (@kaie.space) on Dec 19, 2017 at 12:15pm PST
Daughters of the Storm by Kim Wilkins
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
A post shared by K.A. Wiggins | �������� bookaholic (@kaie.space) on May 2, 2017 at 8:31am PDT
The One Memory of Flora Banks by Emily Barr
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
A post shared by K.A. Wiggins | �������� bookaholic (@kaie.space) on Aug 17, 2017 at 12:35pm PDT
Riven by Jane Alvey Harris (Indie Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
A post shared by K.A. Wiggins | �������� bookaholic (@kaie.space) on Nov 16, 2017 at 11:56am PST
Enough Space for Everyone Else edited by J.N. Monk and Lee Black (Comics Anthology)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
Adult Reads*
Bellevue Square by Michael Redhill (Giller Prize Shortlist, Canadian Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
Minds of Winter by Ed O���Loughlin (Giller Prize Shortlist, Canadian Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
Transit by Rachel Cusk (Giller Prize Shortlist, Canadian Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
I am a Truck by Michelle Winters (Giller Prize Shortlist, Canadian Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
A post shared by K.A. Wiggins | �������� bookaholic (@kaie.space) on Aug 31, 2017 at 12:07pm PDT
The Felix Chronicles: Freshman by R.T. Lowe (Indie Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA | UK
Floating City by Kerri Sakamoto (Canadian Read)
Goodreads | Amazon US | CA
December 3, 2017
Books to check out NL3
This edition of book recommendations first appeared in Newsletter October 2017 (creepy reads) edition.
The Replacement by Brenna Yovanoff:For those who prefer their fae bloodthirsty and horrific instead of sparkly and romantic. This was a rare 5 star read for me. Excellent character development,��worldbuilding, and storytelling.
Also check out The Space Between for demonic thrills and chills, Fiendish for Southern Gothic-horror���yeah, just go ahead and add all her books to your TBR.
Anna Dressed in Blood by Kendare Blake: Ghost hunter. Ghost girl bent on bloody revenge. Who wouldn���t fall in love with a girl ready to rip your heart out? Think Supernatural with teens.
Also check out another skilled WA-based author, Lili St. Crow���s Strange Angels for a super dark gender-swapped take on monster hunting.
The Summoning by Kelley Armstrong: Classic teens-with-powers, but one��happens to be a necromancer. The only thing worse than being trapped in a spider-infested, lightless��underground crawlspace is knowing something���s clawing its way up from below.
Also check out her YA thrillers Missing and The Masked Truth for horror sans paranormal.
The Near Witch by Victoria Schwab: Seems like this is the least-hyped of Schwab���s work, but��IMHO��definitely the creepiest. Seriously. Classic fantasy with a terrifyingly tangible setting and evil at every turn out to get you.
Also check out The Archived for even more ghost hunting.
The Diviners by Libba Bray: Left this one for last because it seriously pushes the limits of my horror tolerance - like, don���t-read-at-home-alone level scary.
The Roaring 20s historical fiction setting and over-the-top characters are lots of fun, but the monsters are��� yikes. Make sure you have a buddy to check under the bed for you.
November 26, 2017
Books to check out NL2
This edition of book recommendations first appeared in Newsletter August 2017 edition.
Best of Summer
A MONSTROUS REGIMENT OF WOMEN by Laurie R. King: I can���t believe I���m giving top billing to a non-YA, non-fantasy read, but this book honestly takes top prize for my summer reads.��All of King���s books seem to be excellent quality, and I���m still working my way through the Mary Russell/Sherlock Holmes series, but if you can only read one King book, make it this one. Adult historical fiction/mystery with a feminist twist.
��
Best Indie
GIVE UP THE GHOST & The Way We Fall by Megan Crewe: Canadian Indie author bonus points! Crewe writes disarmingly authentic teens with complex and conflicted motivations, awkward, slow-moving romances and a touch of the creepy. The Way We Fall is first in a trilogy of excellent and very Hollywood-esque plague���pocalypse thrillers. Give Up the Ghost is contemporary-paranormal, and it���s FREE��to Crewe���s newsletter subscribers.
��
Best Canadian
Missing by Kelley Armstrong: The best thrillers aren���t just action-action-action. This tense, surprising read has a lot of heart. The slow-burn romance and challenging, complex characters were incredibly compelling. Armstrong also has a gift for making remote locations sound appealing. Love all her YA books. Add to your list for Halloween spine-tingling horror-lite (no paranormal, just human creepiness!)��
Bonus Round
Lockdown by Laurie R. King: I really don���t tend to recommend novels about school shootings . . . or contemporary novels, period, but this is a must-read. The level of craft alone - King writes in a dozen distinct voices, each with character development arcs and backstories -��mind-blowing literary skill. But what makes this story readable is that it brings��a distinct sense of hope to the otherwise traumatic subject matter.
November 19, 2017
Books to check out NL1
This edition of book recommendations first appeared in Newsletter June 2017 edition
Best of the Best:
Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor: you need to read this. Seriously. Beautiful writing. Gorgeous language. Classic, epic storytelling. The richest worldbuilding you can imagine.
Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake best YA dark fantasy all year. Three competing protagonists with their own cast and setting. Plus, Kendare���s one of my fave writers who inspired the style and content of Blind the Eyes. PNW writers unite!
A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas: and the sequel is even better, an incredible accomplishment when most second books are the weakest of a trilogy. Mature content warning.
Canadian reads to check out:
Exit, Pursued by a Bear by E.K. Johnston: a strangely uplifting tale of teen rape. Non-explicit trigger warning for trauma, but an incredibly hopeful and instructive read of how to help in the aftermath, and how stepping in changes everything.
Missing by Kelley Armstrong: best YA thriller I���ve read in ages (well, since the last one she wrote, probably, lol.)��Just the right balance of compelling romance between complex, relatable and flawed people in a high-stakes fast-paced setting.
November 12, 2017
Book blog
So, I read a ton. Like, well over 150 books a year. And now that I���ve discovered Goodreads, I also rate and review most of those books, and then feature them with dubious quality photography on Instagram.
What I haven���t done is launched a book blog/reviews section here, because let���s be real; how often do I get around to updating? And how many of you hang out here on a regular basis? So.
However, just last month I discovered Booklikes, which not only shares reviews on-platform and pushes reviews to Goodreads, it collects them in a custom blog. Update one place with automatic syndication to all useful platforms? Yes please!
All that to say: Check out my book blog for (mostly) YA Fantasy recommendations!
I also do bimonthly book recommendations and ���best-of��� lists in my newsletter, and those I will to take the time to host on this site (eventually), so look forward to it!
November 3, 2017
BTE Targeting 2018
So there���s good news and there���s bad news.
The good news is, all that querying attracted some attention after all, literary agents do like Blind the Eyes, and the full manuscript has been requested. It���s not a publishing deal (yet, lol), but it���s actually pretty rare to get that far and it took less than 50 queries (many books take over 100 to even get that sort of response), so it���s definitely cause for celebration!
���The bad news is, now I can���t publish BTE in November like I was hinting at, which is super sad because my proofreader did an amazing job AND turned the project around in half the time I���d had scheduled, so it should have been right on target for a pre-holidays release.
Back to good news: this means I can (ahem, should) get the sequel(s) plotted out and written for fast, consecutive releases when BTE does come out. But, yet again, sorry to make you all wait longer and thanks for your patience!
While I���m at it, huge shout out to my awesome team:
Lisa Poisso did a spectacular job helping me work through the multiple rounds of develoid a pmental and line editing to make BTE a book worth reading
Catherine Milos caught the embarassingly obvious logic errors, typos and generally polished everything to a shine
Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign crafted a gorgeously artistic and iconic cover design (that one of these days I will finally get the chance to unveil, I hope!)
I highly recommend these guys if any of you are looking to form a publishing team of your own!
So what comes next? Well, there���s a lot of waiting. The waiting period for the querying stage wouldn���t have closed until this December (yeah, I was jumping the gun with a November release no matter how you sliced it) and, for a full mansucript request, you normally add at least six months. If an agent offers representation, that���s another week or so to alert any outstanding queried agents that they need to throw their hats in the ring, then paperwork to hire the agent, then they go to work selling the manuscript to editors. So, more waiting. Years of waiting. And at any point in that, potentially more edits and rewrites.
But, as I���ve said all along, traditional publishing isn���t right for every book and every author, so while it���s very exciting to see a positive response from the establishment, given the current market and opportunities, BTE may do better as an indie book, and as new information comes to light, I���ll be making a judgment call on whether to release it sooner. Again, all the pieces are in place except for final layout design, and I���ll probably book that and get it ready in the coming month or so too, so an independent release could happen fast.
For those of you book bloggers/reviewers who���ve gotten in touch, and those who are thinking about it, feel free to keep signing up, just know the timeline���s been pushed out to next year. I���m keeping a database of everyone who���s shown interest for when the ARCs are ready to go.
Until next time,
K.
October 19, 2017
Limited Preview Edition of Blind the Eyes
Blind the Eyes YA dark fantasy Limited Preview Edition also available as a free ebook at:
Amazon: US
Canada
UK
Kobo: [US](https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/blin...
Canada
UK
Chapters/Indigo
Nook/Barnes & Noble
Chapter 1: Before
It was the dead man���s expression that drew me, the depth of feeling on it, bare and exposed and unashamed. It called to me.
That���s a lie.
It was his perfect stillness, the blue-grey cast of his skin shamefully exposed where his mask had slipped in the night.
That���s also a lie.
It was my own distorted shadow, wavering against the pearly sheen of his blown pupils, the unmistakeable mark of the Mara-taken.
That might be closest to the truth.
It might have been why I reached out that night, forgetting the danger. It might be what starts the tingling at the base of my skull even now whenever I think of the dead, the fluttering itch in my fingers that sets them tapping and twisting.
But it���s not the truth.
I don���t know what possessed me to slip out from under the covers and pad across the crumbling tiles of the Corrections dorm that night, ignoring just how many rules I was breaking.
I remember waking, peering across the sleeping rows of failures. There should only have been the faint radiance of blue light marking the locked doors. Instead, it was as though a spotlight illuminated the unnatural stillness of the corpse. He���d been Mara-taken in the night, punished for failing to conform, to obey.
Ignoring the indecency of his shameful nakedness, the line of his jaw and the ridge of his nose uncovered, I reached out to touch the dense roughness of his night-stubbled face. I traced the lines etched there, the deep brackets around his mouth, the ridge and hollow where his cheek stretched over bone. Brushed the faint softness of his lashes, flared wide as if to flee the blank orbs between them.
I spent the night surrendered to the sparkling, tingling fascination of it. They caught me like that the next morning, one hand pressed to the dead man���s twisted face as if, tracing my way through the echoes of his horror, I could know what he knew, feel what he felt.
This is the truth of it: I don���t know why I broke the rules so spectacularly. But the Mara haven���t come for me yet.
I���ve learned to suppress the wanting, hide my reactions, obedient. From the protective gold threaded through the walls and spun into the ward that haloes the hoods of good workers, to the careful drilling in how to turn over all desire and wanting to the Mara before they can kill us, Refuge ensures the survival of the obedient. But those sheltered, obedient workers only live on Floor 10 and above.
So I learned to face forward and ignore the draw of the dead, to focus on stilling the wilful twisting, reaching dance of my fingers by pinching them bloodless into submission. I made it all the way to Floor 18.
But I can���t ever mess up again. I���m only there on probation. One more failure, and the Mara will take me. I have to stop obsessing over the dead.
Which would be a lot easier if I wasn���t haunted.
Chapter 2: Now
Her name is Cadence.
Like me, she���s unsequenced. Singular. Defective. Refuge discontinued her production series after only one unit. Not broken enough to destroy, but not valuable enough to bother making more of.
It may be why I messed up, why I got sent to Corrections in the first place. It may be why she���s able to haunt me even now I���ve reached the shielded security of Floor 18.
Unlike me, Cadence refuses to learn her place. It���s probably how she got killed (she says she doesn���t remember). If I���m not careful, it���s going to get me killed, too.
���So I had this dream last night,��� she says. ���It was about trees. I miss trees. I miss climbing with������
���Stop it,��� I say quietly, so none of the other workers notice. I don���t have time for her lies.
She blows a rude noise in my ear and proceeds to singsong something that mostly consists of the word trees looped at different pitches.
I don���t know what trees are. Probably just another one of her made-up stories. And she can���t have dreamt. She���d be . . . well, dead.
My skin crawls in a not entirely unpleasant way.
���Dreeeams of treeeeees,��� She warbles.
���Shut up!���
I swat at her. My hood snags on one finger. The band securing it goes flying off. I scramble to yank the pale fabric back down over my hair. I clap the other hand over my face to keep my mask from sagging any lower down my nose. The last thing I want is the entire room staring at the uneven splotches on my naked face. Forty bland grey workers sit in bland uniforms behind bland consoles in the bland room. The floor is neutral carpet, the walls an unbroken expanse of neutral paint except for the supervisor���s mirrored observation window and the two doors. The lot of it���s bathed in artificial light. I���d stand out like a dark smear on the face of its perfection.
���Probationary Worker 18-Cole.��� The voice is nasal, cracking and uneven. ���I might���ve known.���
Division Supervisor Kistrfyv���s shoes nudge my shamefully distinctive black probationary hoodband on the floor. Embarrassment flushes my skin even further.
His damp, bulbous gaze is neatly framed between the loose mask drawn over his nose and mouth and the crisp, even spread of his hood under the dual bands of a supervisor. They���re proper wards, of course, gleaming with protective spun gold. He���s dressed perfectly to regulation: baggy, form-obscuring pale tunic and pants hiding light shoes, gloves under drooping sleeves, hood with its gold wards, and an opaque, veil-like mask covering every inch of admirably grey skin except the narrow opening around his eyes. His stance isn���t quite regulation, though; he leans forward, as though eager. If he weren���t the supervisor, he���d be at risk of a violation.
���I don���t like him,��� Cadence says. ���He���s a bully. And creepy. Why do you stick around this boring place, anyway? Let���s go already.���
I clench my fists to keep from swatting at her again. She knows perfectly well how important it is I pass probation and get promoted to full worker. I can���t afford any more mistakes. There���s no way I���d make it out of a second stint on Floor 6.
Some days, I wonder if we���re all grown with a Cadence, if she���s not a ghost at all but a sort of built-in temptation. But it���s not as if I can ask. The downside of strictly regulated isolation: no one to bounce ideas off of except your ghost, who���s probably a design defect in the first place.
Cadence is a forbidden distraction no matter how I look at it. We���ve been together so long I can���t really bring myself to blame her for all the trouble she causes. But if she makes me blow my chance to pass probation, I���ll never forgive her.
���Probationary worker,��� Supervisor Kistrfyv says again, leaning in too close to be strictly regulation. ���I don���t know how a worm like you managed to squirm its way up to this level, but I will not have you destabilizing my division. Submit. Now.���
I ease up out of my seat. The chair squeaks. I wince, and surreptitiously stuff hanks of overgrown hair out of sight. My mask droops from one side. I tuck my chin, partly to keep my hood on and my face shadowed, mostly because the supervisor twitches and glares whenever my head rises higher than his. Head bowed, I shuffle around the console and pick up the black band that marks my inferior status. It reminds every other worker of what could happen to them if things go wrong. Best case: survival as a pariah. Worst: death.
But I worked hard to make it this far. I snug the mark of my shame down over my hood, smooth the mask across my nose, and stand, appropriately slouched and modest once more. What I wouldn���t give just to be invisible���but no, I must not want. I must forget the shivery feeling I get when confronted with the thought cloudy eyes and chilled, stiff skin. I���ve worked so hard not to let Cadence distract me with her made-up stories, her childish fantasies of an imaginary world, her deceitful insistence on a place that is not Refuge.
���Probationary worker,��� she mimics in a whiny tone so like Kistrfyv���s it makes me cringe, ���I demand you extract my head from my butt. Probationary worker, I have nothing better to do with my time than stand here and blink like a fish. Probationary worker, I������
���Probationary worker.��� The real Kistrfyv speaks over her in warning tones. ���You���ve held us all up from our work long enough. Submit, and be quick about it.���
���He���s such a weenie,��� She huffs.
I twist my hands in the loose fabric at my sides to keep them still. Then I fix my gaze at the point where Kistrfyv���s mask drapes over his uniform and try to look contrite. I mumble through a comprehensive list of my violations: distracting behaviour, unnecessary interaction, immodest dress, lack of focus . . . It helps that he���s unusually short, and I���m enough taller that I have to tuck my chin, making me look submissive without really having to try. He still glares.
���Weenie, weenie, weeeniiie . . .��� Cadence chants in my ear, distracting me.
I finish with the rote submission to the Mara: ���I call upon the Mara to eat my dreams.���
It must be repeated three times. I string the words together under my breath, silently begging the Mara not to come at the same time. The only thing that could make this day worse is the Mara actually showing up and hollowing me out.
Rote submission is different than being Mara-taken. It���s meant as appeasement, a sort of pre-emptive measure. Void your disobedient impulses, turn over your hopes and desires to the Mara fast enough, regularly enough, and they���ll take the offering and leave you intact. I���ve performed submission hundreds, maybe thousands of times since they woke me from the Growers��� tables. Sometimes there���s a rush of emptiness left in their wake. Other times, they must not hear me. I know it���s for my own good, but I still don���t want them to come and eat my dreams. Better not to have any in the first place.
Kistrfyv makes me repeat the summons again. Louder. Clearer. Again. I scrunch my eyes shut and tighten my fists. This show of terror seems to please Kistrfyv, or maybe he just gets bored, because he finally lets me stop.
���Weee-neee . . . Weee-neeeee . . .���
Cadence starts breathing the words in a sort of singsong, gasping air in and puffing it out, drowning out Kistrfyv, who has started in on a lecture on the importance of submission without giving me leave to sit. My thighs tremble.
I twitch, suppressing the futile but tempting urge to swat her away. Instead, I lower my chin another inch, concentrating. Visible contrition might trim the length and severity of the lecture, and I need Kistrfyv to be pleased with me. Pleased enough to arrange a probationary trial soon. Pleased enough to grant me a promotion to full worker and hand over the gold ward to replace my black band. Pleased enough to erase my failure once and for all.
Kistrfyv strokes the dual wards around his forehead as if to emphasize his elevated position.
���Betcha he���s bald under that hood.��� Cadence improvises an ode to his presumed follicular deficiency and warbles it directly into my ear.
I burn to give her a good kick. My legs are starting to ache from standing with my knees locked, but I don���t quite dare to shift my weight under the force of the supervisor���s damp gaze. To make things worse, the pants on this latest uniform are too loose. They���re edging past my hipbones, one anxiety-spurring fraction of an inch at a time. I pinch the end of my tongue between my teeth. The sharp-edged, familiar sweetness of blood and pain helps me focus.
Meanwhile, Cadence is losing interest in her little song. She now seems to be occupied with sucking the words in and out again in a breathy sigh. It���s annoying. And distracting. And kind of amazing. What it would be like to just do whatever I feel like, the way she does? I clamp down on that thought.
���Aren���t you sick of it all?��� she says, as if she knows what I���m thinking.
I flinch. I prefer it when she���s picking on other people.
���Why do you put up with it?���
As if we haven���t been over it. As if she doesn���t know just as well as I do. Better, even.
���Fight back! Defend yourself. Look at him. He���s a shrimp. He���s scared of you. You can���t be satisfied with this. How can you be so passive? Do something���anything! Do you have a pulse? Hellooo . . .���
I can���t respond. I���ve got to hold it in. She���ll get bored with me���or Kistrfyv will, if I can just hold out long enough. I can be smart. I can obey. I can wait them both out.
I can survive.
���Don���t you want more? You���re really going to let that weenie bully you for the rest of your life?��� she demands.
It���s clear she would do things differently, if she could. The tragedy of her life is that she can���t. The tragedy of my life is she���ll never let me forget it.
I struggle to hold back another eye roll, but Kistrfyv seems to see past my mask to the dissatisfied twist beneath. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and trails of indecent moisture seep out as his cheeks threaten to engulf them in a sneer so wide it escapes the upper edge of his mask. The effect is unpleasant, but not nearly as much as his punishment will be: extra cycles of rec and more Noosh���the dense, flavourless goop that meets all nutritional requirements while ensuring uniformity among the populace. Or it���s supposed to, anyway. I���m too dark, too tall and too bony���which adds to the misery of the rec cycles. On the bright side, every time they increase my allotment, it seems to dull Cadence���s voice and make it easier to stay on task.
I can see my probationary trial receding further with every blink of his bulbous, judging eyes. He has no intention of letting me live down my failure, letting me blend in with the crowd. He just likes watching me squirm.
I make no further apology, though Kistrfyv eyes me expectantly. He���d probably appreciate a little bow or a few tears. Maybe I should make more of a show of contrition. Maybe it would motivate him to promote me sooner.
Or maybe it���s hopeless. He tops off his lecture with a group chorus of benevolent regulation, watching me the whole time. After, I���m allowed to sit.
I move too fast, desperate to rest my quivering muscles, and bump my thigh. The skin burns, and I know it will bruise bright, invisible patterns under my uniform. Great.
I shift, all sharp angles at odds with the smooth, ergonomic curves of my seat, another reminder that I���m never right, even for something as simple as a chair. A wheel squeaks, high and thin, and I freeze.
���You���re both weenies,��� Cadence says.
I���d like to tell her to shut up. I���d like to tell her I have no choice and she knows it. I���d like to tell her I���d rather be a weenie with a world to live in than like her, forever complaining and never able to do a thing about it.
I���d like to, but I won���t. She���s all I have. And she���ll back off soon, because I���m all she has. All she���ll ever have.
Chapter 3: Strangers
I don���t hate my job. Hate is dangerous. Hate is not stable. Hate is a wish for change. A wish is a dream that can draw down the Mara.
So I don���t hate my job. I merely appreciate when I no longer have to be at it. The pressure to focus, to keep from drifting off, to keep from being distracted by Cadence���s extravagantly expressed boredom . . . It���s exhausting.
Which is the point of work, after all. It���s the point of everything. Keep us just occupied and numb enough to stay out of trouble. Even water breaks are subject to regulation, carefully scheduled to avoid interaction between workers. But I excel at maintaining a modest perimeter, and my posture is flawless. Stooped shoulders, chin tucked, elbows in, small steps to maintain balance and avoid disruption. It���s not easy. I���m still growing, and I have an unfortunate tendency to trip over my own oversized feet. I clamp my gloved hands together in front as I walk to keep the fingers still.
���I miss colour,��� Cadence says out of nowhere. Like she does. ���When was the last time you saw a proper, rich blue? Or orange? I miss orange. And fruit. And eating.���
My mouth goes dry as a tingle buzzes the base of my skull.
���Shh.��� I glance to either side and roll my neck to make the buzzing stop.
���Oh, come on, it���s not as if they can hear me,��� she says.
Not good. She has to stop doing this to me, reminding me she���s a ghost. It makes me think of what comes before. And then I can���t stop thinking about it . . .
���I can hear you,��� I say, though my mind whipped past ���ghost��� and went straight to ���death���.
���You oughta thank me for breaking the boredom. How you can stare at that screen all day, I���ll never know.���
No, she never will.
I hurry back to my desk and squint at the screen. Maybe if I pretend she���s not there, she���ll back off. I start scanning from the submerged lower levels, deserted except for the occasional sub-aquatic Refuge Force patrol and work my way up floor by deserted floor to the ebb and flow of the Corrections division on Floor 6 and on to the tangle of codes on the higher divisions. Floor 14 is reliably busy, the cleaners coming and going all day long. Floor 18 looks empty, though of course it isn���t really. The system doesn���t track surveillance workers. There���d be no point in sitting here monitoring myself sitting here monitoring . . . yeah, no point at all. The snarl of codes is heaviest between floors 15 and 30, tapering off on the higher levels. As far as I can tell only a few enforcers and a handful of division leaders ever go that high. Apparently the Mayor lives up there, but if she has a code in the system, I haven���t figured it out. Cadence interrupts.
���Oops. You missed one. Hey, if I help you find five more errors, can we leave early? I���m so done with this scene.���
I scan back across the display. A surveillance feed on Floor 10 is patchy, the handful of codes flickering in and out too quickly to represent the actual movements of workers. I flag the anomaly to the field team for investigation and go back to scanning the display.
���Hey, don���t ignore me. Say thank you. Manners. Honestly, were you raised in a barn?���
I don���t understand. Barn? But she���s teasing, playful, which is better than nagging. She did save me from an error, after all. She was also the source of my distraction. I���ve got to do better.
���Thanks,��� I mutter into my mask. ���Now will you let me concentrate?���
She makes a rude sound in my ear. It���s only a few minutes before she starts up again, complaining about things I don���t understand, distracting, harassing, and occasionally helping, just to change things up.
I won���t admit it helps me get through the day. A good worker doesn���t need release from the boredom. A good drone lives for the boredom���or rather, the boredom is what lets us live. So I don���t let on that I���m struggling to focus, counting the minutes through the day. Not even to Cadence.
I can���t dream of a different life, a better one. That���s not allowed. But can I help it if I���m forced to listen to Cadence imagine wild and beautiful alien worlds? She doesn���t always nag and tease and pester. Sometimes she tells stories, wild fantasies of people and places from the Outside. Colours, not just shades of bland off-white, forms that aren���t purposelessly shapeless and food that���s something other than flavourless and slurped through a straw twice a day. More often than not, her stories end with her trailing off in confusion, usually when she tries to talk about herself instead of just making things up. Because, you know���ghost.
None of her stories are real. She doesn���t remember her past. She doesn���t know any more about the world than I do. So instead of dreaming with her, I do the smart thing. I focus on my screen. Flag the anomalies. Repeat. Build a record of obedience.
I���ve only just sat down after my second water break of the day when I see it. I have to look twice to be sure. Surveillance is down across a full half of Floor 20.
���Is that . . . ?��� Cadence sounds awed. ���Full crash? How would that even happen?���
It���s a major anomaly. If there were warning signs, whoever missed that is going to be in a lot of trouble.
It wasn���t me, right? Please don���t let it have been me.
I flag it for field service in a flurry of clicks that highlight the breadth and severity of the situation. Whoever gets assigned to investigation on this one is going to be busy for a while.
An alert takes over my screen: ���Surveillance Technician 18-Cole-: Assigned to task.���
That can���t be right.
���No way,��� Cadence says. ���You get to do a field investigation? Awesome.���
That definitely can���t be right. Only senior surveillance technicians are assigned to field duties. I glance at the supervisor���s office door and swallow a rising tide of panic. I should report something���s gone wrong and get the task reassigned.
Unless he did this.
The buzzing in my head settles into a deep, pulsing ache. I push back at it, rumpling my hood. He wouldn���t, would he? Purposely assign a major field investigation to me, just to see me fail? Or���
I take a closer look at the notation buried in the attached files. Two words jump out at me: ���Probationary Trial���.
It���s finally here: my chance to leave failure in the dust and blend in with everyone else. I can���t believe it. I���d thought after this morning���s incident, I���d be waiting months, years even. I wring my hands. It���s here it���s here it���s here it���s���
Impossible. It���s a trap. Kistrfyv is setting me up to fail. I hardly know anything about field missions.
But there���s no way to refuse the task, not without admitting failure and giving up my shot at normality. So, fine. I���ll show him. I���ll show them all. I can do it. It���s the smart thing to do, just stand up and head out. Show no weakness, no distraction. In fact, I should get going. The sooner I complete the task, the sooner I can crush that weenie���s hopes of being rid of me.
���Really?��� Cadence says as I push back my chair. I almost collide with a passing worker. ���You���re actually going? This is so cool. What do you think Floor 20 is like?���
She keeps up a steady one-sided commentary. I try to breathe and walk at the same time. My fingers tap and twine. I clench them into stillness.
I don���t notice the figures at the elevators at first. When I do, my fists jump to my throat, tangling in the loose lower edge of my mask in undisciplined panic.
Refuge Force. It was all a trap. Kistrfyv set me up, and now they���ve come for me and they���ll drag me back down to Floor 6 to die and all of this trying will have been for nothing and���
Wait.
There are several pale-uniformed figures standing there in front of the elevator. Which is weird. They���re too close together���even weirder. Most of them cringe, eyes shadowed under their hoods as if they���re just as afraid of being caught out in an error as I am. And those uniforms . . . Don���t enforcers wear dark, close-fitting uniforms?
���You just gonna stand there or what?��� Cadence sounds annoyed. ���Let���s get going already.���
It���s as if she doesn���t even see them, doesn���t realize how impossibly creepy this is. It���s a bunch of workers. Together. In the same place, at the same time. Nearly touching, even.
Other than their astonishing misconduct, they seem pretty normal���except for the one in the middle. He���s tall, his shoulders pulled back to show the clear line of his body beneath a carelessly disarranged uniform that obscures his ID code. Where the others keep their heads modestly bowed, he stares right at me.
I blink. His hood is shoved back, exposing dramatic blue-black strands against glowing, golden skin. But even properly covered, he would stand out with those eyes. Bold, fearless, and direct, he stares back with molten gold irises. It���s not the shape that stands out ��� like most of the workers, his eyes are long and flared, though a fraction wider and more upturned than my own. But such vibrancy and movement, the way they seem lit from within . . . I didn���t know it was possible for a worker to have eyes like that.
Is he an only, too? There can���t possibly be another like him, not in all of Refuge.
I step forward to get a better look.
���About time,��� he says.
End, Limited Preview Edition (Oct. 20, 2017)
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