In a two-caste Los Angeles, grifter Ella Locke falls into the deadly world of corporate espionage when an autocratic megacorporation catches her infiltrating its opulent walled-off city-state
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Curious About 2090 Untamed
Utop’s territory, Los Angeles Realm of North America
Thursday, March 16, 2090
I dangled upside-down, arms roped to my sides, my skull six feet above the grimy concrete floor of the Vipers’ drug factory. The blood pooling in my head and the burned plastic fumes had me wheezing and delirious.
In that haze, I pictured a rainy morning: Dad, Mom, and my sister stooped at my grave. The vision warped, replaced by them working late at night to keep our repair shop afloat without me, only to lose it and our house to the vipers. My throat tightened as an even darker image formed—my family, homeless, catching Kebola and dying in a puddle of their own blood.
Enough. I needed to think of a way to scheme the Vipers into granting me an extension on my debt if I didn’t want those visions to become reality. But my drug and seizure damaged brain couldn’t, too distracted by the bone-wrenching pain of being strung up by my ankles.
The surrounding chaos fought for what little attention I had left. Hundreds of rusty barrels hauled chemicals in lines like ants, their AI-powered wheels groaning. A horde of Vipers roamed the factory in black hazmat suits and skull-shaped gas masks. Some dumped buckets of white powder into industrial mixing drums. Their masks’ red eyes and connected dual hoses made them look like grim reapers orchestrating humanity’s destruction.
Sweat drenched my blouse and dripped down my throat and face, so much I had to shut my eyes to avoid perspiration from burning them.
Something screeched like a fork on a plate, and I flinched.
Through my blinking, sweat-burned eyes, I caught a blurry silhouette closing in on me: a lanky, green-skinned henchman.
Zee.
Forked tongue flapping, Zee scraped the ground with a barbed baseball bat. The same one that crippled Dad in 2078. My weird photographic memory pushed a vivid replay of the night the Vipers crushed Dad’s knees, his quavering chin and shriek as the bat connected. Him wincing after each step for the past twelve years. His easy laughter dulled by his lost pride as Mom and I took over his workload. Unlike Dad whose knees got busted by the Vipers, mine were above batting distance. But not my face.
Zee slit eye contact lenses and full-body tattooed snake scales signaled his lieutenant rank. “Mayron isn’t a patient man, Ella.”
Maybe Zee could be fooled into believing I needed more time to sell the pills. It was my first deal after all. I willed an impish grin. “Thanks for the pep talk, but I can sell H faster when I’m not tied up.” My voice came out rough—the factory’s fumes having sandpapered my vocal cords, chain-smoker style.
Zee remained aloof as he snatched a gutting knife from the steel table and stepped closer. At his height, his slit pupils reached my upsid
Zee remained aloof as he snatched a gutting knife from the steel table and stepped closer. At his height, his slit pupils reached my upside-down face. “Such a 3D star look—smooth skin … cute nose … blowjob lips. Sucks if something bad messed that up.”
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Ly Ann
The Author and The Psychologist
Ly Ann has a Ph.D. in psychology and works as a clinician to offer children and adults neuropsychological assessments and individual psychotherapy.
You can talk to her on Twitter @lyann888.
Click below to learn more about her journey and see pictures of her.
