By Lee Bond
Who's Garth ‘Nickels’ N’Chalez?
Don’t ask him, simply because he’s no longer fullyyt definite himself. past a number of easy proof, he's, in a universe of mysteries, one of many maximum mysteries of all. He has amnesia of the worst kind, leaving him clueless approximately pretty well every little thing that any one may locate fascinating.
Why is one guy one of these mystery?
Well, for starters, he's thirty thousand years outdated. Granted, so much of that point used to be spent in suspended animation, yet subsequent to the Trinity AI, he's the oldest factor within the identified universe. outdoor of 2 others, he's additionally the single dwelling who is familiar with whatever approximately speedy nutrition, pop track, and different lifeless stuff like rock and roll and undesirable technology fiction movies.
Saddled with a badly hacked synthetic intelligence nicknamed Huey, Garth units off on a direction that takes him to Latelyspace, domestic to the Latelian Regime and final of the sovereign structures this facet of The Cordon.
His activities, pushed through a reckless want for solutions, will irrevocably make him a 'Foreign Devil'.
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Additional info for Foreign Devil (The Latelian Cycle, Book 1)
It jutted up at a steep angle, piled on three beneath it. Like spilled matches. He jumped. The log split, and he frantically leaped off again. Desperately, he clutched for purchase. His fingers slipped; he fell back. He dug in wildly, trying to draw his body up on a flat surface. He made it. Gasping, panting for breath, Barton lay stretched out on the log, waves of relief flooding over him. Finally, he pulled himself to a sitting position. If he could go a little farther he should be able to catch hold of the truck itself.
I even made up a special golem with an extra-large brain, but it couldn’t tell me anything. Maybe you can help me with that. How are you on the clay? ” He came close to Barton and lowered his voice. “Nobody around here knows anything. There’s actual opposition. I have to work completely alone. If I had some help…” “Yeah,” Barton managed. Good Lord, what had he got himself into? “I’d like to trace one of the Wanderers,” Peter continued, with a rush of excitement. “See where they come from and how they do it.
He had almost fallen asleep over his dinner plate. His coffee had cooled to a scummy brown; the greasy potatoes were hardening fast. ” he muttered. The man sitting next to him pushed his chair back and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He was plump and well-dressed; a middle-aged man in a dark blue pin-striped suit and white shirt, attractive tie, heavy ring on his thick white finger. “My name’s Meade. Ernest Meade. ” He smiled a gold-toothed professional smile. “I’m a doctor. ” “Just tired,” Barton said.