It's 2020. The world has gone to shit, but you already know that.
If you're this deep down in the Amazon search, you must be desperate for something new. Well, you certainly have found it with this hidden gem. Sci-fi, conspiracy, thriller, melted humans, guns, aliens, coffee, and snooty east Melbournians. This book has it all. That is if you can dare to sit through the drunken ramblings of a raving lunatic. Don't worry, I've edited most of it into an understandable format.
Oh, you thought I was the author? God no. I'm just some guy that was walking passed Ted Erikson's apartment. Wrong place. Wrong time. I was walking my dog when a manuscript, large enough to hold all the truths of the universe within, flew from his window. I was about to throw it back over his chain-link fence and continue on with my day when an envelope full of cash flew out of his window. Anyway.
Meet John Glenn, a good for nothing, beer drinking, coffee guzzling, pizza munching, sci-fi watching, horror consuming, Xbox gaming loser. And that's putting it kindly. He spends most of his time running around the virtual world with his online only friend GR.
John Glenn is the kind of guy that uses his one hour of exercise per day to waltz down to the local coffee shop and perve on the barista. I've always wanted to punch that kind of guy, but I have a family to feed and assault charges will not help me in that endeavour.
When Rylee Danson, who suffers from a severe case of germaphobia, was stuck taking out the bin after already having washed her hands. The only person she could think to call on was John Glenn. Probably the biggest mistake of her life. If there's one thing you need to know about John, it's that he continually sticks his nose where it's not wanted. So, John comes over, thinking all his dreams are about to become a reality, lifts the bin like a champ and saunters to the sulo bin outside. Then he slips, and it smells foul!
He tries to get up but can't. He scrambles around and feels something hard. He grabs it, and pulls it to his face. Looking back at him is a decomposing skull. Eyes falling from the socket, tufts of hair shredded, and a tongue swollen to twice it's size. John looks down to the rest of the man who is now mostly a sickly brown goo. Yet, scraps of a jumpsuit remains. White, cotton, and a single 'A' embroidered on the breast pocket.
John freaks. He flails about, but that only serves to make it worse. There's nothing like the smell of rotten human flesh all over your body. Fear takes Rylee and she wants nothing more to do with this. She runs inside and locks the door. Sucked in John Glenn. John spends half an hour squirms and sliding his way out of the goo, and sulks back home.
So shaken up, John is no longer a passive character. The catalyst has hit, an inciting incident has occurred, and this bastard is ready to bash someone six ways to Sunday. His first point of call is to contact his good mate GR. But GR is nowhere to be found. Dropped off the face of the planet. Next point of call is the internet. He searches for his mate, but nothing. The only thing that comes up is a news report of the disappearance of a elite gamer, tagged with #theacademy.
So, John searches The Academy, and is greeted by a glitchy website that only displays the letter 'A'. The same that was on that melted dude's jumpsuit. John goes out and tells everyone he can. He posts it on forums, goes to police stations, television stations, newspapers, and even has an argument with some bum on the street. But he resolves to one simple fact. The only way to know more about these dudes, to bring them down, is from the inside.
Surely that's enough to get you to hook into the rest. Go on. Why not?
REVIEWS
"Readable" - some guy.
"Good grammar, mediocre writing" - reviewer from Fiverr
"The worst thing I've ever read" - Ted's Mum
