When a software time bomb shuts down the mentally controlled construction equipment on the Sunworld launch cat project, it leaves expert spyder-driver Mike Hayden temporarily idled. Waiting for secure software upgrades in the subterranean city of Hyumbar, he spends his free time profitably—gambling in the bad part of town. But when he intervenes to stop a beautiful young woman from being mugged in a deserted service corridor one night, his life changes forever.
Drawn by love into a web of deceit, violence and political intrigue, he finds himself at ground zero in a bloody coup d’état.
Forced to fight for his life and for the lives of those he loves, Mike must fall back on the only weapons at his disposal: subterfuge, cunning and the skills of his craft. As the situation worsens and events careen out of control, the truth becomes painfully clear. As always in the human political universe, nothing can prevent the triumph of fascism and madness except grim determination, a level head, and proficiency with naked steel.
This author bio does not follow the rules. Such blurbs are supposed to be written in the third person and be an impersonal recitation of biographical data. I have chosen to ignore these dictums. In doing so, I am inspired by the same impetus that causes a dog to lick his private parts; he does it because he can.
About a hundred years ago, in a misguided attempt to understand why human beings act the way they do, I earned a degree in psychology. Employment opportunities being what they are in that lucrative field, I have worked as a wage slave in chemical plants ever since. Those twin experiences instilled in me both a visceral distrust of experts and a profound aversion to honest work. These moral defects, in their turn, caused me to become a writer.
In 1960, at a moment when reptilian behemoths still stalked the Earth, I borrowed a book from the Bane Elementary School library. The tome was entitledPeter and the Rocket Ship, and pouring over Peter’s adventures engendered in me an inveterate appreciation of science fiction. This being the case, it was natural that, when my authority hating, work-avoidance compulsion (writing) finally actualized, it did so in that same genre.
A factor further cementing my fate was an unfortunate addiction, one characterized by Robert Heinlein as being “…worse than marijuana, but not as bad as heroin.”
I read. I read a lot. I have always read, a lot. The result of this sad, escapist habit is that, over the decades, I have amassed (quoting a former co-worker here) “…a vast compendium of useless facts.”
In an epoch before the advent of the inter-webs, this caused me to be a source of some amusement during bouts of heavy drinking. These days, the inter-webs having gained some acceptance and me having sobered up, my rantings (a long speech in which someone complains about something in a loud, excited, and rather confused way) have no outlet but the written word.
And so I have written a novel—Where Madmen Rule, available on Amazon—praying that some ridiculously swollen number of my fellow, printed word addicts (Hello, my name is Gene, and I’m a reader…) will discover some small measure of diversion, and perhaps even amusement, within its pages.
I hope none of us will be disappointed.
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