Cyber Puppets

Angus McAllister

Description

His life was like a soap opera, but that was only the start of his troubles... Scott Maxwell was worried. Not about his wife Fiona's unfaithfulness, or about his brother-in-law Wilson Laird's devious scheming, or about his other brother-in-law Roddy's alcoholic excesses. As a member of the wealthy Laird family and part of their distilling business, such things came with the territory. Scott was more concerned about his lack of free will, his frequent memory lapses, and the fact that no-one seemed to notice when his father-in-law Hector was replaced by an imposter. And when the reality around him collapsed, plunging him into a devastated future world, it was time for Scott to be seriously alarmed! The Cyber Puppetsis a satirical comedy written as a science fiction story. Angus has invented a soap opera plot in the style of 'Dallas' and 'Dynasty' relating to a rich family of Scots-Americans which drives the narrative. This book will appeal to science fiction readers and comedy fans alike, and will also be enjoyed by fans of Angus's previous work.

Sujets

• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 mai 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781789010541
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

The action has moved on

The penthouse suite was reassuringly as Scott had left it, but there was no longer anyone there. He was trapped on the top floor of a skyscraper whose bottom forty-eight storeys apparently did not exist.
At least from here the familiar skyline of Primeburgh was back in place. Until he was almost at the window the view seemed normal.
Then he looked down, and saw that the bottom half of the city was missing. It was as if the city were half submerged in a white, impenetrable sea, or consisted of a backdrop, only the top half of which had been painted.
Someone spoke to him, a man’s voice. It seemed to come from all around him, or perhaps from inside his head.
“There’s no one here, Scott. The action has moved on.”
By the Same Author

The Krugg Syndrome
The Canongate Strangler
Close Quarters
The Cyber Puppets

Angus McAllister
Copyright © 2018 Angus McAllister

The moral right of the author has been asserted.


Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.


Matador
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ISBN 978 1789010 541

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
Contents
Preface

PART ONE
THE LAIRDS OF GLENDOUNE

PART TWO
FULLER’S EARTH

PART THREE
JOKER IN THE PACK
Preface
This book was written many years ago. When I began it in the late 1980s, glossy American soap operas like Dallas and Dynasty were still being broadcast, though by the time I had finished the book a new decade had begun and these 1980s gadflies had already begun to pass into history.
However, although the glossy soap opera may have lost its 1980s dominance, it has never totally disappeared. In any case, soap operas were never the only target in my satirical sights, and the ridiculous soap plot I devised provided a structure for my narrative. Even after the science fiction plot has burst out from it, like the alien from John Hurt’s stomach, the soap narrative continues in tandem with the science fiction story until the former’s ludicrous season finale.
But of course my book is not set in the 20th century at all, but in the 22nd century, in a world devastated by global warming and other environmental disasters. And these themes, still emerging when I wrote my book, are now completely dominant.
I didn’t want my soap family to be oil barons like those in its famous models, so I instead made them a Scots/American family of Scotch whisky distillers. This allowed me to take a gentle swipe at expatriate Scots. The number of people in the north American continent alone who claim Scots ancestry substantially outnumbers the actual population of Scotland, and the exaggerated love shown by some of them of all things Scottish, both real and stereotypical, can be a little irritating to those of us who actually live there.
A major influence on my book was the work of Philip K Dick, whose novels I had been reading extensively at the time. It’s not for me to judge the success or otherwise of my clumsy homage, but one thing is clear: several decades after his premature death, Dick’s star has never shone more brightly, and the flood of film and TV adaptations of his work shows no sign of abating. The market for paranoid visions of the future appears to be secure.
The new millennium arrived without my book having found a publisher. Then it was accepted by a new science fiction publisher called Big Engine, founded by the writer Ben Jeapes. Unfortunately, they got into financial difficulties, and they went out of business shortly before my book was due to appear. Eventually, in 2012, it was issued as an E book by Brain in a Jar Books, founded by the science fiction writer Gary Gibson. The E book version is now being reissued by Matador, in conjunction with a paperback edition.
If the above rationale for my book has failed to convince you, then take note of one thing. It is intended to make you laugh, and if it doesn’t, then I’ve failed. The response of some Kindle readers suggests that, in this modest aim at least, I may have succeeded.

Angus McAllister
May, 2018
PART ONE
THE LAIRDS OF GLENDOUNE
…meet it is I set it down
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

William Shakespeare
Hamlet, Act I, Scene 5
ONE
Scott Maxwell realised later that his doubts had been growing for some time. But he only became fully aware of the problem when his father-in-law Hector returned from Scotland with a head transplant. The shock of that homecoming was impossible to ignore. Even five colourful years living with his wife’s family failed to prepare him for it.
It even managed to eclipse the news his wife Fiona had brought him earlier that day. For most people, two such traumas at the same time – Fiona’s announcement and Hector’s new face – might have been too much. But less so if you were a member of the Laird family. For them troubles coming doubly meant a quiet period.
Fiona had called unexpectedly at his office during the afternoon. As usual, she looked as if she had just walked from the page of a fashion magazine. “Hello honey,” he said. “It’s great to see you.”
She accepted his kiss perfunctorily and sat opposite his desk. “It isn’t exactly a social call.”
“Never mind. I’m glad you’re here. Why did you come?”
“I’ve something to tell you.”
“Good news?”
“I hope so. I’ve just been to the doctor.”
“What’s wrong? You didn’t say anything about it this morning.” His manner showed alarm and concern. Inwardly, he took the news much more calmly.
“I’m pregnant.”
“But that’s impossible.”
“So they said. Apparently they were wrong.”
“There’s no doubt about it?”
“None.”
“But that’s great news!” he said, coming round from behind the desk and embracing her. “It’s what we always wanted.”
She responded half-heartedly. “You’re pleased?”
“Of course I am. And Hector and Kirsteen will be delighted.”
“You can be sure of that. A new addition to the Laird dynasty is always welcome.”
“That’s unfair. You know how much they’ve been worried about you.”
“I know. You’re right.”
“Anyway, what did the doctor say? Will there be any complications?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll need more tests, and they’ll have to keep a close eye on me because of the miscarriages. But so far everything seems OK.”
“Well, that’s just wonderful!” He kissed her again. This time she appeared to have relaxed a bit and responded more warmly.
When he paused for breath, he said, “I love you.”
“And I love you too, darling.”
Scott wondered which of them was being the more insincere. He decided it was a close-run thing. So the bitch is pregnant, he thought. Who’s the father? Is it that bastard Walton or that snake Doberman? Why do I stick by her? She doesn’t love me and I can’t stand her. Why don’t I walk out on her and her goddamned family? Without them I could have a good life, as well as a much quieter one.
“Does Kirsteen know yet?”
“No. I’m going straight home to tell her.”
“She’ll be delighted. They both will.”
“So you said. Well, I’d better get going.”
“It’ll be a great homecoming present for your father.”
“Yes, it certainly will.”
“That doctor better know what he’s doing. Otherwise, he’ll have a lawsuit on his hands.”
“Oh, Scott, stop being a lawyer for once. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll see you tonight.”
Scott continued to observe himself display the predictable series of reactions, as she took her prolonged leave, as they kissed again and re-affirmed their mutual devotion. What was wrong with him? It was more than just hypocrisy. It almost seemed as if he had no control over his speech and actions, as if the real Scott were trapped inside a body that was being operated by another person.
After she had left, he sat looking out of the window of his office, at the view it commanded of Primeburgh city centre. His modest premises were only a few blocks away from the giant Laird building, but his south-facing window allowed him to pretend otherwise. So far he had resisted all attempts by the Lairds to absorb him into their distilling business, though he spent so much of his time dealing with their legal work that they had managed to get him anyway.
He had a lot to think about and would have liked more time for contemplation. But, after only a brief period, whoever was controlling his actions decided it was time for him to call in his secretary.
“I’ll be leaving early tonight, Dorothy. Are you nearly finished typing those letters?”
“Just about, Mr Maxwell. I hope there’s nothing wrong.”
“No, Dorothy, just the opposite. I’m going to be a father.”
“That’s wonderful, Mr Maxwell! Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Dorothy. I’m so excited, I can’t think about anything else for now.”
I really sound as if I mean it, he thought. I’m wasted as a lawyer. I should have been an actor.
TWO
On the top floor of the Laird building, the one which S