Hey 0.0 readers.
Bookshelf Q. Battler here, proprietor of bookshelfbattle.com
That’s my blog dedicated to the entertainment of 3.5 and only 3.5 readers. Never 5. Never 10. Never 100. Always 3.5. If you want to be one of the 3.5, feel free to check it out.
The site you’re on right now is a blog to promote my upcoming serial, “The Last Driver.” Currently, the first part is with my editor and I hope to have it released soon, by the end of 2018.
Picture it. The year is 2050. Frank Wylder doesn’t recognize the world he lives in anymore, but not just because he’s an old timer, because the entire planet is under the control of the intrusive One World Order.
That’s right. At some point in the 2020s, the forces of globalism and nationalism collide in a big way, with the globalists emerging as the victors in 2032. Free will is gone as the Order now micromanages every last detail of an individual’s existence, from the job he holds, to the place he lives, even down to the person he marries and the food he eats.
Does Frank care? Not really. In his youth, he was a badass getaway driver for an organized crime family’s heist ring. In his middle age, he was a driver/fixer of problems for Hollywood’s most glamorous (and scandalous) stars.
Now he’s an old geezer who can’t scratch his butt without three of the government’s invasive, ultra-nosey AI drones asking him a question about it. As far as he’s concerned, he’ll just sit around the shitbox house he was assigned and drink the six and only six beers a week that a Class 7 citizen such as himself is allowed to consume.
Naturally, The One World Order is not without an enemy. The Nationalist Front is a group of rebels who seek overthrow the global government and return the world to a time when it was carved up into petty, bickering nations. While they’re big on free will, their methods are such that one wonders if they’ll be any better than the powers that be already in place.
When the Front learns that Frank was once a badass with his foot on the gas, they offer him a deal he can’t refuse, namely, to be the driver on a series of missions designed to strike at the Order’s ability to run the world effectively, or else never see his thirteen-year-old granddaughter alive again.
Why Frank? Because self-driving cars are the norm and this old man is the only one who remembers how to put the pedal to the metal.
Thanks for stopping by. I’ll be checking in every so often with updates and discussions.