I’ve been writing books since 2013. Since then, I've learned a great deal about writing and storytelling! That’s why I’m going back and reworking all of my books.
So far, I’ve completed work on all three books in the Alban Saga: BEATRICE, BLACK GROTTO, and my newest novel, VORTEX. It is a current-day fantasy thriller that takes place in Scotland.
As of today, I just finished reworking, ROOMS, which is the first in a two-book science fiction series called The Rooms Series. This latest version can be ordered on any Amazon site around the world. If you decide you want a copy, it’s available in the U. S starting today. If you live outside the U. S., I would recommend waiting until the fifth of January to ensure you receive the latest version.
Description
The human race had abandoned Earth over five hundred years ago, and just as a person might skip across a shallow pond from rock to rock, our species gradually spread across the Milky Way, hoping to find another Earth-like planet.
During this time of exploration and colonization, the people on each of these desolate outposts lived in protected settlements called lifeglobes. Their lives had a surreal consistency that eventually gave rise to the Rooms. These were extremely sophisticated, holographic, and multi-sensory game rooms that helped fill the void created by people having to constantly live inside an enclosure, separated from the outside world.
Rad had just moved to a lifeglobe on planet R-131. Before arriving, he had been an elite player, addicted to the Rooms on the other planets where he had lived. Realizing that they were completely taking over his life, he made the decision to move to R-131 to focus on things other than engaging in these Rooms. However, upon arrival, he heard rumors about a new and unique Room on this planet—supposedly unparalleled for its graphic realism and complexity. However, he heard something else as well: you could not choose to play this Room—it chose you. Rad’s curiosity and ego got the better of him, rekindling his obsession. However, neither he nor anyone else knew that this particular Room had never been designed for entertainment or pleasure; it had been created to change the course of human history.
Chapter 1
O-244
Ever since he was very young, Rad had always been able to see his life laid out clearly in front of him. He would travel from one lifeglobe to another, do his job during the day, and then spend the rest of his time training, preparing, and educating himself to play the Rooms circuit at night and on free-days.
Becoming an elite player was all he had ever wanted, and as he conquered one Room, he would move on to the next. It was his identity; it was what most young people inside a lifeglobe thought about. It took them places holographically, provided experiences, challenged them, and gave them a sense of the universe they could never have had otherwise. And as the Rooms improved and advanced technologically, they also became more demanding, enticing, and addictive. So, what happened? What made Rad do what he had done that night?
***
Rad returned to his flat and looked in the mirror. His hair, although a bit disheveled, was still black and full, his eyes still pools of blue, and his skin browner and darker than most who lived in a lifeglobe. But something was different. His face now carried a series of red blotches, making the memory of what he had done come flooding back. And there was something else—something that no one could see in the mirror but him. He had changed inside.
Rad slowly pulled himself away from the reflection and sat down on his bed. He stared through the outview of his flat, looking out towards where it had all happened. It had only been thirty minutes or so since the event, but it had been long enough to already feel a bit surreal. He could still see it in his mind, but the memory was slightly skewed and caused him to shiver. Why had he taken such a chance?
As the minutes passed, one word kept intruding on Rad’s thoughts and eventually escaped his lips. “Outside!” Outside, beyond the barriers, the walls, and the plastishield dome lay a forbidden place—a dangerous, wild, and unforgiving place where few from any lifeglobe ever ventured. Sure, the maintenance crews, engineers, miners, and scientists had to go there at times, but the normal populace would never consider it. It had been an unwritten law throughout the galaxy for generations: you could fry your brains or be exposed to hazardous chemicals and toxins. You could easily die of exposure. Your survival suit could malfunction. There was no air, no water, no food… But Rad had done it. He had been there; he had survived, and he never wanted to forget it. It was more than just an experience, far more than a simple holographic Rooms adventure. He knew that it would forever be a seminal moment in his life.
Walking over to his desk, he took out pen and paper, sat down, and started writing it all down—every feeling, every thought, every second.
O-244 was my first assignment on a lifeglobe away from my parents. Everything was new and vibrant. I loved every part of it. I had a great job, was meeting people on my own, and the lifeglobe I was on was a lot more exciting than the one where I had lived with my family. I’d chosen this assignment because of its Rooms circuit, and it was also close enough to my parents’ home that we could visit each other once in a while.
O-244 is a lunar planet. It has no atmosphere. It hovers far from its parent planet, which happens to be a gas giant. Its surface is rugged, with colors of black and tan due to the minerals and rocks within its crust. Viewing it from inside the lifeglobe seems immediately mysterious and beautiful. When I first arrived, I remember thinking, ‘I wonder what it would be like to walk outside on its surface?’
After I got here, I quickly settled into my first real job. I was part of the governing and planning council and enjoyed the work. We heard people’s complaints and problems and worked with the scientists, engineers, miners, and maintenance crews to help keep the lifeglobe running and functioning properly.
In the evenings and on my free-days, I began my preparations to become an elite Rooms player. The Rooms are an unbelievable form of entertainment, but you never enter them without a good deal of preparation. That is, unless all you want to be is an observer. If you plan on actually playing, you must study and train. Competing against other players, as well as advanced computer arrays, nanos, and holographic simulations, is not something to enter into lightly. I studied yoga, meditation, and planetary history. I also conducted as much research into the development of the Rooms as I could, and during that process, I learned a great deal about the human race’s ancestral home—Earth.
I did all of that, and after living, working, and playing the Rooms on O-244 for over three years, I finally arrived at the present, making me wonder, ‘Why was life here not enough for me?’ I had friends, my work was satisfying, and my training and education had gone well. I was doing what I had always wanted to do. I was an accomplished and talented Rooms player—not elite yet, but better every day.
However, the confines of living inside a lifeglobe, along with a yearning that had developed from my studies, began eating at me. I was happy, and of course, I loved playing the Rooms—but something was missing. I found myself thinking about how the human race had once lived on Earth. Yes, they had to have shelters and clothes to protect themselves from the elements, but they were free to breathe the air, drink fresh water, and eat food that had been grown from Earth’s rich soil, and they could feel the sun, wind, and rain upon their skin.
As I went about my daily life, my mind fixated on that ancestral experience. It made its way into my dreams. I found myself looking out through the domed lifeglobe at the surface of this beautiful moon, wondering how it would be to walk outside on its surface without anything between it and me.
So, the day came when I started planning. I spoke with a friend in maintenance who would lend me a survival suit, and another friend, a scientist, who often went out onto the surface of O-244 to conduct experiments. Because of my standing on the council, I was able to get permission to exit the lifeglobe on the condition that I would go with my friend to look at his experiments and then return after no more than thirty minutes. Everything was ready.
The day came, and I met Charlie after work in the dressing room of Airlock-12. We casually chatted for a while and then entered the airlock. My survival suit was gray, featuring a simple, functional design that sealed my body from head to toe. An external airpack on the back had tubes that connected to my helmet. The facemask was made from thick plastishield and was tinted with a dense, yellowish film to protect my eyes and face. The whole suit was designed to minimize radiation exposure while remaining light enough to not be cumbersome. Charlie helped me into it, and I had him explain all the connections and features so that I understood how it worked. I also practiced taking the facemask on and off a few times just to make sure I could do it efficiently.
Before we exited the lifeglobe, we checked each other’s suits and intercoms. Everything worked. Charlie entered his code into the exterior door’s keypad. The door opened and automatically sealed behind us once we were outside. I can still remember the “whooshing” sound.
I immediately felt lighter and off balance. The gravity on the moon’s surface was about a tenth of what we were used to inside the lifeglobe. It was an awkward sensation for a short time, but with Charlie’s help, I adapted.
Making our way to a shed nearby, we walked into it. Charlie explained his low-grav experiments where he was growing certain types of bioengineered plants in the protective structure. It was interesting, but of course, that was not why I had come.
When we were done, we started walking back to the airlock. I was behind Charli; he didn’t notice that I had stopped. The sun had just set. In the distance, I could see pinpoints of stars in the dark sky and a slight glow from the gas giant on the horizon. It would soon rise into the sky and become visible. I could also see the edge of some craters and a series of low mountains several kilometers away. I knew the colors of the soil and rocks should be black and tan, but through my tinted facemask, the colors were distorted. The same was true for the glow from the gas giant and the stars, blinking above me.
The time had finally come. I glanced over my shoulder one last time; Charlie had continued walking towards the airlock. I reached up and prepared to unlock and remove my facemask. My heart was pounding, and I could feel my hands shaking. I wanted this, but it was not going to be easy. Once the optical shield was removed, I would only have a few seconds before I had to replace it.
I glanced once more towards Charlie, took a deep breath, and unclipped the shield. I can still remember the sounds and sensations as it happened. There was a click as the shield released, followed by a loud rush of air moving past my face. I kept my eyes closed for the first several seconds but then opened them, feeling a moment of utter astonishment. My strong emotions made it extremely difficult to hold my breath, but I steadied myself and focused on the moment. The clarity and beauty of the world that I now saw—viewed without obstructions or plastishield barriers—was glorious. The horizon was crisp, the mountains larger and more pronounced, the stars burst across the black sky, clear and bright, and the glow from the slowly rising gas giant was massive and multicolored as it began to stretch across the horizon. All of it magnificent, unbelievably crystalline, and real.
But then the hazardous nature of my situation transcended my excitement. I began to ache from the severe cold, which threatened to freeze my skin. My lungs throbbed from the need to inhale, and my eyes watered and clouded over from exposure to the elements. I hung on, but I was beginning to feel light-headed and dizzy—my head and ears pounded from the change in pressure.
My brain shrieked at me to replace the plastishield orb and repressurize my suit before losing consciousness. Yet even then, despite the pain pulsing through my body, I maintained for a few more seconds. Alive! I was alive, and this was beyond my wildest dreams!
I replaced the cover just in time. My suit and helmet rapidly filled with oxygen, and my burning lungs took it in. I immediately felt the warmth from my suit as it relieved the incredible cold. Then a hand forcefully grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. I looked up into the frightened eyes of my friend and heard him yell, “What the hell were you doing, Rad? Is this why you brought me out here? You could have easily died! You crazy bastard! Damn you!”
I recovered and did my best to explain, but he was still angry and refused to discuss it. I did convince him to keep what had happened to himself, but I think I may have lost Charlie as a friend that night. Even so, seeing and experiencing the world without anything blocking or limiting me was an unbelievable phenomenon that I would never forget. Everywhere I had ever been, there was always the necessity to look through something—some barrier continually protecting me from the “out there.” Everyone was forever protected from the “out there.”
