Retrofuturistic DieselPunk
Date Published: April 4, 2014
For over a thousand years, a powerful oligarchy known as the Worldwide Order of Lightnings has oppressed us. With the help of the prying eyes of the chronomancers, the Lightnings have torn us from our homes; have forced us to do their bidding; have stripped us of our rights, even our names.
I have spent my life in hiding. Please understand that an unrated telepath like me is a commodity, not a person. If it s not the thought-police come to call on me, it s the Lightnings, or worse, a suitor who won t accept no as an answer.
Peace. Security. Love. They all elude me. When I manage to grasp a little of them in my shaking hands, they are all but snatched away by outside powers beyond my control. My heart groans with black tears from all this folly.
He’s a
giant of a man, perhaps just clear of the two-metre mark. He wears leathers and
a fur overcoat that gives him a feral, bear-like look. To make matters worse,
he wears giant-sized boots. The thick type that he could probably use to stomp
through a steel animal trap and emerge unscathed. His horse is bigger than any
horse I’ve seen before. Black, with hooves as thick as the rider’s legs. I bet
its eyes glow red in the dark to match the clouds of frothy air jetting from
its flaring nostrils.
I park
and walk ahead of the motorcycle, blocking off the road. This could get ugly,
so I unwrap Kwan’s scarf from around my neck. I set my rifle down on the road
and remove my helmet.
Minutes until the hunter arrives. Minutes to show life what I’m made of
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