Decoherence

Decoherence

By

Liana Brooks

Single or Series:  3^rd and last book in the Time & Shadows trilogy

Length of Book:   400 pages/ 87,000 words

Genre:   Science Fiction

Author Bio:
Liana Brooks writes science fiction and sci-fi romance for people who like fast ships, big guns, witty one-liners, and happy endings. She lives in Alaska with her husband, four kids, and giant mastiff puppy. When she isn’t writing she enjoys hiking the Chugach Range, climbing glaciers, and watching whales.

Social Media Links:

New Release Newsletter | GoodReads | Amazon Author Page 

Website: www.lianabrooks.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LianaBrooks

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ByLianaBrooks/

*****

Blurb:
Readers of Blake Crouch's DARK MATTER and Wesely Chu's TIME SALVAGER will love Liana Brooks' DECOHERENCE--the thrilling, time-bending conclusion to the Time & Shadow series!

Samantha Rose and Linsey MacKenzie have established an idyllic life of married bliss in Australia, away from the Commonwealth Bureau of Investigation, away from mysterious corpses, and—most of all—away from Dr. Emir’s multiverse machine.

But Sam is a detective at heart, and even on the other side of the world, she can’t help wonder if a series of unsolved killings she reads about are related—not just to each other, but to the only unsolved case of her short career.

She knows Jane Doe’s true name, but Sam never discovered who killed the woman found in an empty Alabama field in spring of 2069. She doesn’t even know which version of herself she buried under a plain headstone.

When Mac suddenly disappears, Sam realizes she is going to once more be caught up in a silent war she still doesn’t fully understand. Every step she takes to save Mac puts the world she knows at risk, and moves her one step closer to becoming the girl in the grave.

Buy Links: Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo |  HarperCollins | Google Play | iBooks

*****

Excerpt:

“Decoherence (n): a period of time when all iterations collapse and there is only one possible reality.”

~ Excerpt from Definitions of Time by Emmanuela Pine, I1

Day 247

Year 5 of Progress

Capitol Spire

Main Continent

Iteration 17—Fan 1

… three. Rose stood and peered through the frosted, warped glass of the conference room as the speaker turned away. It didn’t matter which iteration she was in, Emir was predictable. She had seven seconds to do a head count. She didn’t need that long.

A quick head count was all it took to confirm that the einselected nodes she’d been sent to assassinate were where they belonged.

Every iteration had nodes, people or events that kept that variation of human history from collapsing. Dr. Emir had created a machine that allowed people not only to move along their own timeline, but at critical convergence points, it allowed them to cross between realities. But the Mechanism for Iteration Alignment’s greatest ability was the one that allowed Dr. Emir and Central Command to steer history by erasing futures they didn’t want.

Rose knelt beside the door, did one final sweep for alarms, and nodded for her team to move in. It was her job to cross at convergence points, kill the nodes, and collapse the futures that no one wanted.

One look at the version of herself watching this iteration’s Emir with rapt fascination was enough to make Rose want to snip this future in the bud.

Chubby was the first thing that came to mind. Rose’s doppelganger was enjoying being at the top of the social pyramid and probably gorging on whatever passed as a delicacy here. The squared bangs with a streak of riotous red only accented the corpulence and lack of self-control the inferior other had.

Even with a heavy wood door between them, Rose could hear that this iteration’s Emir was hypothesizing things the MIA was never meant to do. Everyone with half a brain knew that decoherence didn’t combine iterations, it crushed them. Only the true timeline, the Prime, would survive decoherence. Planning to welcome and integrate doppelgangers into the society was pure idiocy.

The techs sealing the door shut gave her the high sign.

Rose nodded to her hacker.

“Cameras locked. Security is deaf and blind, ma’am”Logan’s voice was a soft whisper in her earpiece. He was a genius with computer systems, a fact that had saved him when they collapsed I-38 three years ago. “We have a fifteen-minute window.”

 1. How did you get started writing?

My first creative writing experience happened in grade school in Illinois where they had a Young Authors Competition. Once I learned I could tell a story I was always scribbling something, usually instead of taking notes in math class (which probably explains my geometry grade). But I didn’t get serious and start writing regularly until after I graduated college. I was suddenly out of Academia and bored. Daily writing gave me a sense of accomplishment at a time when the work I was doing wasn’t easily measured by my usual metrics.

2. Name three things on your desk right now.

Post-it notes with quotes, word counts, and scenes to write; am original piece of art that’s blue and green with gold sparkles, and a fish fossil.

3. Hamburger or sushi?

SUSHI!!!! Yes, please! I love sushi! It’s my comfort food! When are we going? Are you buying?

4. If I were your favorite cookie I would be what flavor?

Dark chocolate with mint chips.

5. Open your new release to any page and tell us what is happening.

Let’s see… page 213 in the word document for DECOHERENCE… Rose is stepping out into a moonlit glade with cicadas and starlight. She’s disoriented and confused, also, very angry. She is about to make a very serious mistake.

6. Heels, flats or sneakers? (or nothing at all)

Hiking sandals when it’s warm enough, otherwise I’m usually in my wellies (boots) that are good to -20 and that I really need to get ice cleats for. High heels and Alaskan ice are a bad combination unless you want to break a bone.

7. Tell us one tip you would pass on to new writers.

Let your rough draft suck and keep writing.

8. Plotter or pantster?

A punster by nature, but I’ve learned to lay a loose plot so I don’t meander too much. These days I plot out who my antagonists will be, and the four plot twists I’m writing towards. That gives me a general direction without making losing the spontaneity of pantsing.

9. What is your favorite movie or book and why?

I have so many favorites it’s hard to pick one. Let’s go with THUD! By Terry Pratchett. It has one of the best modern commentaries on racism and hate, and it’s beautifully written. Yes, there’s trolls and dwarves, but what genre fiction does best is examine our reality by restating our problems in a new way. Pratchett was a master of social commentary and he completely dismantled arguments in favour of racism and hatred and war. It really should be required reading in schools. We’d be a much more peaceful species if we all realized how much hate hurts everyone.

10. What's next on your writerly horizon?

Novellas! All the novellas! I have a new novella series starting next spring with BODIES IN MOTION from Inkprint Press, and Even Villains 4 is going to the editor this winter (in about 6 weeks so I need to write faster). And then there’s some behind-the-scenes stuff going on with a new novel series that I can’t talk about in too much detail yet. I probably won’t be able to make any formal announcements until 2017.

Dancing With the Flame: Poems by Jamieson Wolf

Dancing with the Flame

By

Jamieson Wolf

Third collected works of poetry  *  212 pages

Author Bio:

Jamieson has been writing since a young age when he realized he could be writing instead of paying attention in school. Since then, he has created many worlds in which to live his fantasies and live out his dreams.

He is a Number One Best Selling Author (He likes to tell people that a lot) and writes in many different genre’s. Jamieson is also an accomplished artist. He works in mixed media, charcoal and pastels. He is also something of an amateur photographer, a poet and graphic designer. 

He currently lives in Ottawa Ontario Canada with his cat, Tula, who is fearless. 

Social Media Links:

Website: www.jamiesonwolf.com

Blog: www.jamiesonwolfauthor.wordpress.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/jamiesonwolf

Twitter: www.twitter.com/jamiesonwolf

Blurb:

Following the Number One Best Sellers, Talking to the Sky and Talking with the Earth, Dancing with the Flame contains poems that are part memoir and part journey towards self-love.

They are Wolf’s attempt to not only find balance but to love all parts of himself, even those that are most difficult to love. 

They are a testament to the strength of the human spirit. The poems show us that whatever life throws at us, with courage anything is possible.

With unflinching honesty, Wolf talks about disease, sexuality, physical disability and the healing power of love.

Buy Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Dancing-Flame-Jamieson-Wolf-ebook/dp/B01AL29MDM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1453425375&sr=8-1&keywords=Dancing+with+the+Flame+Jamieson+Wolf

Excerpt:

What I Had Become

When the New Year began,

I looked into the mirror.

I saw a reflection of myself

from long ago. I was

lying on a bed, weak,

my whole world changed.

I watched as my reflection

lifted a hand and beckoned to me.

“Come on.”

He said.

I touched a hand to the glass

and it was as if

there was no glass there.

The veil between the present

and the past was thin.

I stepped through the mirror

and found myself in a place

that I remembered but fought

so hard to forget.

It was dark and there was only

one small light in the room.

Even so, by that light I saw

who I used to be lying

on the bed, my past self,

my other self. He regarded me,

and I looked at him.

I remembered that day,

how the night before the New Year

my life had changed forever,

never to be the same again.

I knew just how he was feeling

as I had been him, he had been me.

He was weak and disoriented,

unable to walk very well at all,

his whole world seeming to

move around him, unable to keep still.

He regarded me with tired eyes,

the fear in them so total.

He knew that something was wrong.

“You forgot about me.”

He said.

“You forgot our anniversary.”

It was true. I had forgotten.

Every year since that day,

I always wondered if this

would be the year that it happened,

the year where I lost control

of my body once more.

For a while, I lived in fear

of December 31^st, of who I had been

and of what I had become on that day.

“I’m sorry,”

I said.

“I did forget. I did forget you.”

“Why?”

He asked.

“Because I left you behind. Because I’m so much stronger now. So much happier.”

He regarded me with a blank expression,

the fear increasing in his eyes until

they were full of tears.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so afraid.”

“I know,”

I said kindly.

I sat on the bed beside him and took his hand

in my own. It was cool and sweaty and

I remembered how warm I’d been,

how nothing had felt right,

and how my own body had turned against me.

“You’ll have to be strong,”

I said.

“There is a lot more pain coming, but you’ll have to be stronger than you’ve ever been. Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t know how.”

“You don’t, but you’ll learn. There will come a moment when you’ll want to quit, where you’ll want to give up and head towards the darkness. But I promise you, good times are coming.”

He looked at me with such

an open expression, one of yearning

for something better. I remembered

wearing that look, wishing and hoping

so fiercely that it was painful.

“Okay,”

he said.

“Okay.”

I heard my partner calling me from

the other side of the mirror,

his deep voice making the liquid glass

move in ripples. I took one last look

at who I used to be and patted his hand,

leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead.

“I have to go now.”

“I know you do. Don’t forget me, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise.”

With that, I stood and moved towards the glass.

When I stepped through the glass,

I left behind what I had been

and into what I had

become.

1.     How did you get started writing?

I’ve always been a writer. I wrote as a child, mostly stories, since I was eight or as soon as I was able to string words together. I was nineteen when I decided to make it a profession.

2.     Name three things on your desk right now.

A Tarot guidebook, my cup of coffee in a Harry Potter mug and a statue of Buddha.

3.     Hamburger or sushi?

Always sushi!

4.     If I were your favorite cookie I would be what flavor?

Macadamia and white chocolate without question!

5.     Open your new release to any page and tell us what is happening.

It’s a poem called Floating on a Sea of Stars. Here it is:

Floating on a Sea of Stars

I walked into

the room and

tried not to

shiver. The hospital

was cold, especially

so in my

gown with my

back exposed for

all to see.

The technician smiled

weakly at me.

It was late

and who knew

how many MRI’s

she still had

left to do.

She gestured to

the machine, sitting

larger than life

in the middle

of the room.

“Here are your ear plugs. And you even get a little party hat.”

She handed me

a disposable cap

that kept the

machine sterile. She

gestured again at

the MRI machine.

“I want you to lay down, putting your head here in this rest. I’m also going to prop a pillow under your legs.”

I nodded and

hefted myself up

onto the table.

I lay down

as she helped

me guide myself

into the proper

position. She attached

the camera that

would take close

pictures of my

head and neck.

This was the

moment I always

began to lose

it a little.

I felt I

was being shut

into a cage,

with no exit.

“Try not to move while the MRI is on.”

She said. I

knew I would

be able to

hear her voice

once I was

in the machine.

I nodded and

the table slid

into the long

metallic tube. My eyes

were closed and

despite whatever bravery

I possessed, my

eyes watered with

a few tears.

I opened them

and blinked a

few times to

chase the tears

away. It was

then that I

noticed the stars.

Someone had stuck

stars on the

inside of the

tube. I looked

at them and

marveled at the

sight of such

a happy thing

here. I heard

the clicks of

the machine starting

up and then

the MRI started,

shaking the table

that I lay on

as the magnetic

rings moved faster

and faster around

me. I closed

my eyes and

focused on my

breathing. After a

few breaths, I

was able to

breathe deeply. I

eased into

my breathing, letting

their rhythm compliment

the sounds of the

machine as it

thrummed around me.

After some time,

It began to

feel as if

I was sliding

out of the

magnetic tube. I

opened my eyes

and saw the

stars were still

in front of

me. I hadn’t

moved. I closed

my eyes again

and after a

moment, the sensation

of moving returned.

It was as if

an unseen wave

of water ran

beneath me, except

it wasn’t water,

but stars. I

could feel their

sparkle caress my

skin. I was

still moving, sliding

out of the

machine. I heard

a voice speak

in my ear.

“You’re doing so well. We’re almost done. Just a few more minutes.”

I opened my

eyes and saw

the sky, filled

with sparkling stars.

They joined with

the ones that

held me aloft.

I floated there,

held by a sea

of stars. It

seemed like I

could look into

them forever and

never see the

end. Below me,

the machine began

one last loud

round of thrums,

bumps and beeps

It sounded like

the music that

stars would make,

unintelligible to my

human ears. The

the voice spoke

softly once more.

“You’re almost done. You better come back now. You’re almost done.”

I closed my

eyes and relaxed,

floating downward until

I felt the press of

the sliding table

against my back.

The tickling of

the stars lessened

as the machine

began to settle

itself around me.

I felt the

stars leave from

beneath my body.

They slide out

as if made

of water. Then

the machine gave

one final click.

I opened my

eyes and was

once more looking

at the yellow

stars that someone

had stuck inside

the machine. I

said a silent

note of thanks

to that technician,

as those stars

had given me

a way to

float amongst the

stars that came

from forever. As

I walked out

of the room,

I looked behind

me and saw

that I left

behind a trail

of stars, sparkling

in the air.

I almost reached

out to touch

them, to run

my fingers through

them. Instead, I

made a wish

on one of

them and hoped

that it would

come true.

6.     Heels, flats or sneakers? (or nothing at all)

As I would kill myself in heels, always sneakers.

7.     Tell us one tip you would pass on to new writers.

Just keep writing. Is you have the will and want to write, just do it. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.

8.     Plotter or pantster?

Pantser. Whenever I try to plot, I get writers block.

9.     What is your favorite movie or book and why?

The Princess Bride, both book and movie. I just love that, despite everything, true love always wins.

10.  What's next on your writerly horizon?

I’m going to continue my current work in progress called Boy Friends and hopefully put out a book of short stories.