Sneak Peek at A.M.P. Phase 1

Greetings from the Author's chair,

I've been working on my new concept series called:
A.M.P. Augmented Mental Projections - Phase 1 The Gamma Project

Got the prologue written and decided to give you all a tease. Keep in mind, this is a very rough draft start.

Enjoy....
Author, Brian K. Larson
#TheDyslexic Author

A.M.P.
Augmented Mental Projection

Phase 1
The Gamma Project

Prologue 

Ben sat in his old rundown basement apartment. The sofa was tattered and his floor was littered with rolled up paper balls, pencils, and unused torn paper. He held his Glock 22 .40 caliber pistol. After loading the rounds into the clip, he snapped it in and cocked a round into the chamber. His hand shaking, he holstered his gun and stood to zip up his leather jacket.

He sighed as he ran his nervous fingers through his hair, “Get ahold of yourself… you can do this…”

Ben picked up his billed cap from the arm of the torn sofa and placed it on his long brown hair, letting it flow down his back. He needed to blend in with the regulars of the city center where he could find an underground accelerator module.

He detested the thought of having to go down to this district, but he needed too. He only needed one more session in order to complete his new pulse drive engine schematic.

His early drawings, he provided to his client, had already paid off handsomely, however the majority of his upfront payout would be spent getting AMP’d so he could finish the project. His client promised four-million when he had the completed drawings. They even fronted Ben fifty-thousand in good faith. They knew he was getting this tech from being AMP’d. Accelerator delivery modules were illegal to be AMP’d with, but they didn’t care.

Bell town was a bad place to be in the middle of the night alone. But he had to go. He craved the feeling of being jacked. He wanted that payoff. He could retire. Move to a better part of town and have plenty of funds to get AMP’d as often as he wished.

Walking across the room, he picked up his data pad and tucked it inside his coat pocket and locked the door with a wave of his hand. He had a forty-minute walk to the rail line. Then another fifty-minute ride to the stop a few blocks from his contact.

He stepped off the rail and walked the few blocks to find J, his accelerator hook. He quickly made his way to the 5th Avenue Jammer club.

Bell town was home to many jammer dens, where those that have the implant can get a cheap fix. But they were nothing like the illegal accelerators that Ben accessed in the underground. Those fees could add up to several thousand for one session, depending on how much time you buy. The simple jammer pays a hundred dollar entry fee for a night of accelerated dancing. However, they don’t get the long term benefit of using an accelerator, and the jammer loses the feeling as soon as they leave the protection field that shields the building. These clubs were legitimate establishments, and regulated by the local government. The guidelines imposed were only enforcing ways to prevent those with implants outside the club, not to experience any spillover from the AMP signal inside.

Getting an implant was still expensive, 10k for a dirty implant and up to 50k to 100k for a good one. Not many could do it, but once jacked, you will never want it removed.

Getting jammed at the elite clubs is the wave of the future. This tech has begun to replace the more toxic substances that people used to put into their bodies to get high. Since the implant is a chip, and not a chemical, the FDA couldn’t stop their licensing.

Ben stepped up to the dark window and leaned in to shout over the loud music that did invade his eardrums, “Where’s J tonight?”

The tall burly man inside the booth leaned closer to the mouth hole in the glass, “I think he’s down on Seneca. If he’s not there, then try James.”

“That’s clear across town!”

“That’s the way it is… you jammin’?”

“No thank you… I need to find J.”

“Ok, have it your way… cover is twenty off tonight.”

“Maybe later,” Ben answered.

Two skimpily dressed women stepped up and grabbed his arms on either side, “Come on honey, jam with us.”

“Yeah, mister. You look like fun.”

Ben pulled away and smiled, “Thanks honey, but I have to go.”

The two frowned, turned and left, looking for another who might buy them into the club.

Another half-hour passed and Ben finally saw J leaning on the wall of Stewart and James, “J!”

“”Wus up, Bennie my man?” the tall black man said. He was heavy-set figure with broad shoulders and was dressed in an upscale pin-striped suit. He sported a light colored straw hat on his head. J spread his huge arms with the large knuckles wide, appearing to be glad to see his client.

“I need to get AMP’d.”

“Big surprise,” the man said with slyness, sliding a toothpick to the other side of this mouth, “How much time today?”

“Another 40 hours.”

“40!?”

“Yes, only 40.”

“Well, you might want to jump up to the next price level. You sure you don’t want 60 or 70?”

“I would like more… but…” Ben said, looking over his shoulder.

“Relax, Bennie. The feds know, oh they know.”

“What do you mean they know? They know about me?”

“Yeah, they know. Just don’t care.”

“Why not, it’s illegal.”

“Yes, but like I said, they don’t care anymore.”

Ben continued to look over his other shoulder, “How much?”

“Ten-thousand”

“Ten?” Ben shouted, “You only charged me five last time, and I was for 70.”

“Monthly special,” J smiled.

“Come on man, give me a break… I don’t have that much left.”

“Uh huh, that’s what they all say.”

“No really, I’ve already given you 20k.”

“You want to get jacked or not?”

“Well, yes.”

“10k.”

“I’ll give you five.”

“It’s a better deal if you pay for ten; you’ll get 72 hours.”

“I can’t stay awake for another 72 hours… I only need 40 to complete my project.”

“Tell ya what, you give me 7k and for 50 hours.”

Ben hesitated for a moment, then agreed, “Ok, ok, you got a deal…Come on, come on, come on… let’s do this.”

“Payment first,” the man insisted.

Ben held up the back of his hand and J ran his data pad across, “Thank you… nice doing business.”

“Ok, where to?”

“Follow me,” J said as he reached down and picked up a brief case, “This way.”

He walked up the street and then down a dark ally. There were several addicts that still used the chemical method of forgetting their pain. Many of them were passed out in their own vomit. The ally had a stench to it that imbedded in his clothes. It took three washings to get the stink out the last time he ventured on down to one of the accelerators stations.

J quickly walk down a dark stairwell and sat the case on the step, “Sit down,” he instructed, then unlocked the case using the back of his hand and opened it.

“Wait,” Ben interrupted, “Here? How?”

“This is the latest model,” J smiled, “Portable accelerator model… now lean forward.”

Ben followed his instructions and placed his head down, exposing the back of his neck. J moved Ben’s hair and uncovered a small jack on the back of his neck. He reached into the case for a cord and then carefully plugged it into Ben’s jack.

“Ok, relax,” he instructed, “This shouldn’ hurt a bit.”

“Shouldn’t?”

“You’ll be fine… really, really.”

J flipped a red switch and powered on the box. He moved the control dial to the 50 AMP setting and waited for the unit to complete the charge.

“What’s taking so long?” Ben asked, his hands shaking again, “It never takes this long.”

“It’s a portable unit, man, an’ it takes a few to bring the power up… give it a minute,” he looked down on the control console and noticed a message being displayed which read: “Dispense package number 9.”

He raised his eyebrows and softly whispered to himself, “Ok, whatever you say boss,” and punched in the special code.

The unit began to spin up making the squeal of a high powered flash unit and then Ben lost consciousness.

When he woke up a few minutes later, J was nowhere to be found. He crawled up the cement stairs and looked down the ally in both directions. The alley was empty where before it was littered with passed out bodies.

He began to feel the effects of the AMP and started to remember his drawing. He thought for a few moments and then smiled. He suddenly knew how to complete the schematic. But he felt different this time; no euphoric effect during or after being jacked, “What a rip off! I’m going to Sly next time.”

  He began to walk down the alley and then stopped. He held his shaking hands up and then noticed he was sweating profusely. Losing his balance he fell to his knees and quivered.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispered. Then his right hand stopped shaking as he reached for his Glock. Unable to stop himself, his smile turned into a look of horror. Placing the gun in this mouth, he pulled the trigger.

“Sir,” the government aide said, “We have successfully downloaded the schematics.”

“Excellent,” General McKenzie said, “Is he dead?”

“Yes, sir,” his aide said, “Very.”