JohnAR

“Don’t bother trying, kid. I’ve been trapped here a week, I think. – With fucking numbers that don’t make sense!” “Alpha, everything okay?” a young man asked with a tray in his hands. “Fucking Wittgenstein is easier to understand,” he screamed again through the office, childishly throwing a book against the wall. He rubbed his temples in the desperate hope for enlightenment. But those numbers gave him a headache. And why the hell did those Europeans use ‘,’ as ‘.’ and sometimes ‘.’ inste

I appreciate your enthusiasm. ad 1) No twitter account. ad 2) Dystopian out-of-earth clone soldiers setting. Let hope by the end of this year.

Be sure I will make lots of noise on GA whenever the first chapter gets published ...

@athanos (Un)Fortunately, I'm not working on another Meta book. However, my new project Ten^One is progressing nicely.

The thumping and dumping and 'rumping' made me jerk out of my sleep. Instinctively, I understood a Parisian garbage disposal truck wanted to let everyone in the 2nd arrondissement know that they were not on strike today and would be doing their duty according to the prescribed speed and appropriate noise level – i.e. very slowly and very loudly. As usual in those rare instances – well, once a month at least – I tried to mentally close my ears to the noise barely dampened by the excuse of gla

“Eric, get the fuck moving!” Only a voice that knew how to scare boys who thought they were already men shitless, was trained by constantly barking across wide barrack drill squares, and had the authority of having survived more than one cluster fuck, could sound like this. A young man, barely 18, came running. His hair nearly black as the night, his eyes dark-brown, and healthy stubbles around his broad chin screamed as much wolf as any physiognomy could. “Sir, reporting as ordered!” Ga

“I’m going to kill him,” Colt moaned, slowly gliding into the hot tub. “Depending on how you’ll do it, he might enjoy it,” Prime answered with slight amusement. He had massaged Colt’s calves for 15 minutes. Of course, that had resulted in massaging some other muscles for another 15 minutes and even more ‘pain’ for Colt. Poor Meta, so abused. “He drove me up every winding road on that hill as if I was a goat, why can’t we just run along the lake?” Colt continued to complain. “Or he ca

‘Are we almost home?’ Seb wanted to smile when he remembered this very spot, and his words. He felt he had uttered them only yesterday, like every child who wanted to get back to his holo-games as quickly as possible. His father, Forest, had shaken his head with gentle disbelief, but wouldn’t change direction. For hours they hiked through snow-covered forests up the hills of ShadowLands. His smile – if he could have had a smile on his snout – froze in the very same second. He missed his

“When were you going to tell me?” Colt asked nearly benevolently grandfatherly. Prime took a deep breath, put the plate with a sandwich for his hardworking Meta on the nightstand – the desk was utterly cluttered – and sat down on Colt’s unmade bed. “I guess the numbers tell you now.” Colt’s pen pointed at the screen of his laptop. Several printouts, a pocket calculator, his phone and a tablet were placed around it, all screaming: ‘Beware. Dangerous accountant hard at work.’ “If I were

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Colt whispered when he looked into the mirror. Slowly he put the blond wig on his ¼ inch cropped head, pushing the braids behind his ears. Nonetheless, the tips landed where the wearer of such braids should normally have tits. He sighed again. He might have killed Evil itself, two vampire queens, fuck over-sized wolf marines and nowadays having turned 40, impress even Isaac with his marksmanship, but after all, he always was the girl … and today showed it again.

He jerked out of his sleep as if hit by a bullet. No, because he had been hit by a bullet. In his dream. And years ago in Iraq. On his first tour as a marine as green as the uniform he had worn during boot camp. “It’s okay,” a deep voice trying to be comforting told him; not that his friend wasn’t trying hard enough. But it seemed his own anxiety had affected the man next to him. He pushed his head under the warm water to clear his mind. The naturally warm springs made for a fantastic

“Do you think we can do it again?” one of the guys asked eagerly – he sounded like the oversized cop. “I mean hosing him down when we’re all done with him. It was fun.” ‘Fun?’ Rob screamed in his head, but his shock was quickly replaced by the next horror. “Maybe after Colt’s done with him. But now it’s your turn, Bradley, you’re doing this the first time, but don’t screw up the tattoo completely!” Prime ordered sternly. “Sir, yes, Sir!” Tattoo? Rob screamed even harder.

When the TV turned on and the logo of ‘WolfNet Communications’ filled the screen, Colt instinctively looked at his watch. Who would video call at midnight? Quickly, Andreas’ picture appeared and Colt pushed his notebook aside to accept the unexpected call, instinctively calculating time zones. It was 0900 in Frankfurt. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” the man in the archetypical lab coat of a scientist apologized. Colt shook his head. “You know, I’m a vampire, active at night …” Andrea

“How much longer do we have?” “They should be finished any …,” Terrence answered when a deadly shower of chilly cold descended on the canteen. As if controlled by some puppet player nearly everyone looked at the gates that swooshed open letting several men in uniform in; lead by the source of the petrifying freeze: Major Varq. The Major seemed to ignore the sudden change of atmosphere and temperature in the hall and proceeded to the counter as if nothing had happened, making him appear

“Colt!” A baritone voice used to being obeyed without question shook the whole floor. Colt put down the checklist he used to ensure he hadn’t forgotten to pack anything for his travels to France. He still had to snicker that this very pack list nowadays included two individually vacuum-wrapped T-shirts (a rather conventional gray-USMC one and a black one saying: ‘Is sex dirty? Only when it's being done right.’ Strangely, it showed a pickle as well, leaving room for many dirty interpretation