Excerpt: The Fields of Elysium (Working Title)

You know it’s going to be a bad day when you wake up with a revolver in your mouth. There’s a biting edge to that kind of morning. It’s the sum total of the revolver, hanging dully from the corner of your mouth, the cold barrel covered in fresh drool. For John Cassidy, it has to do with the fact that he fell asleep last night like an addict, passing out in his father’s recliner. He must have been hungry to shove his father’s revolver in his mouth before falling asleep.

The call came in six minutes after Cassidy’s shift began, and he was still sitting in that recliner, still in yesterday’s slacks and shirt. He was disoriented, looked around his apartment to try to find the source of the ringing in his ears. But it was in his head and in his HUD. And now, Cassidy stands without breakfast in a tiny craphole apartment, staring at the team of hackers lying prostrate on the floor. He gets the cold air from the open door. It’s November, and outside, on the streets of San Francisco, it’s raining.

“Goddamn fucking hacks,” Cassidy mutters under his breath. He cinches his overcoat around his burgeoning waistline and sighs. The air fogs in front of his lips....

Welcome to San Francisco, California, 2040. A city of paranoiacs and schizophrenias, of memory constructs and transhumanists