Into Twilight (Stefan Mendoza #1)

by P.R. Adams

The shakes had me bad. They always did when shit was about to get real. I got up from the bed, felt the warmth of the silk-smooth hotel bedspread transition to coolness. The air conditioner droned, struggling against my anxious heat. My clothes—brown button-down shirt, gray slacks, grayer wool socks—clung to my skin. The Koreans handled the humidity so much better. As if I didn’t already feel like a foreigner: my maternal grandfather’s six-foot-tall, thick-chested frame; my father’s black hair, pale brown eyes, and faintly copper-brown skin; my maternal grandmother’s pronounced nose, broken during Krav Maga sparring gone a little too far.

Although I had pages of notes going back to the 1990s on the On the Brink setting (Rimes Trilogy, the ERF series, and other works), the start point had always been intended as Jack Rimes's story. A couple reviewers suggested a prequel to delve into some of the background elements. The hardest thing to do was to choose a specific event or events and to make those come to life in an interesting way. I knew that North Korea nuked Seoul before suffering devastating retaliation. We see in "Momentary Stasis" that unification has happened and mutations and radioactive scarring are a thing. And I knew the Intelligence Bureau's predecessor had its dirty little hands in a lot of what happened. Enter Stefan Mendoza. He's the classic anti-hero, used and abused by a system he scorned. I wanted a cyberpunk-meets-Cold-War-spy feel because of all the things going on in Stefan's story. What is that story? At the core, it's the birth of the metacorporations that become so central to the future destruction in the setting.

Danny. That was Danny Chowla, my sniper. Former Marine, ace sniper, expert drone operator, and about as laid back as a human could be. Until it was go time. Then he became the one person you wanted watching you from the sky. To those who didn’t know him, he was a lean guy with a big nose and twitchy brown eyes, someone who could be Arab or Indian or maybe even Hispanic like me. But get on the wrong side of him, and he could drop you with a right hook you never saw coming. Or take your head off with a sniper round. I kept him separated from Jacinto normally. It was the only way to keep the little shit alive.

If you've never heard of Dan Harmon ("Community," "Harmontown," "HarmonQuest," "Rick and Morty"), he's something of a brilliant, creative train wreck. I stumbled across him because of "Community," which--although I'm not a fan of TV, especially sitcoms--has some of the funniest sitcom TV episodes ever. Danny Pudi's character Abed is probably the biggest standout from a group of standout characters. It's how I envision Danny, social dysfunction and all.

“This is Chan,” Danny said. It was the first time he’d spoken since introducing me to Heidi, and he seemed uncomfortable even with that little bit. “Systems expert?” I extended a hand; Chan just glanced at it. “Don’t touch people.” Chan looked back down at the display. Red LEDs flickered off and on from ear lobe to top. “Dirty.” I cocked an eyebrow at Danny as he headed for the kitchenette. “Systems expert,” he confirmed. “Gridhound. Ran in the same snowcrash Jacinto used to.”

Chan. How do you create a character like Chan and not make that character the protagonist? I didn't want to write a story about that sort of broken character (everyone in the cast is broken...that's the point), but boy oh boy, Chan is so compelling to talk about. Most of the time, when I create a character, I either have an actor or model in mind for the part and snag a photo for reference, or I go looking for someone with the right look. I couldn't do that with Chan. Chan is Chan. I wanted so badly to make this character memorable, irritating, and yet lovable, someone the reader could pull for. The character arc is complicated, and there are some really, really tough and uncomfortable scenes for Chan. I hope that makes the end result memorable.

Across the street, the SUVs came to a stop in front of the crowd, which had easily doubled in size. Five men in dark suits exited the vehicles and moved into the crowd. Two continued on to the library entry, one of them—dark-haired, tall, with slightly large ears—continued on inside. Seconds later, Senator Weaver stepped out, bracketed by two more of the dark suits. Weaver was nearly as tall as her bodyguards, taller than one who appeared to be a woman. The senator’s hair was light brown with gray sprinkled in and cut into a no-fuss, layered bob. She wore a dark blue jacket and skirt, and when she finished working the crowd, I caught a glimpse of toned calves.

Killing a senator running for president. That was the impetus of the first story. What's a freshly rebuilt agent going to do when that assignment is tossed into his lap? Stefan is about as apolitical as anyone could hope to be. He had to be to be willing to do his job. I wrote the final few chapters of "Into Twilight" at ConQuest 48 in Kansas City. That was the Memorial Day weekend in 2017. I had plotted the trilogy out the year before. Who knew foreign powers meddling in an American election would be a thing? I thought a rogue agency and corporations gone mad with greed would be comfortably unlikely for a reader in 2017/2018, something they could accept seventy or so years in the future.

“Gillian McFarland.” Another file opened on the device. The young woman, scruffy, glaring, heavier: a mug shot. A tattered, buttoned sweater, open on a simple shirt with stains and a tear. I drilled in closer. Despite puffier cheeks and a scowl that made her look older, the face was still attractive. “What’s this from?” “Student protest. University of Pennsylvania. Poli-sci and communications majors. Graduate degrees. Protest turned violent. LEO assault. Charges dropped. Thought there might be more, but…”

Harrison Ford's biggest complaint about "Blade Runner" was that Deckard never did any detective work. I think that's a little harsh, but the point is still there: For a mystery to work, there does need to be a bit of a breadcrumb trail that's played out. And for a true noir feel, there needs to be a femme fatale. Gillian McFarland.