Sometime in 2010, I read an article online about the creation of "bipaternal" mice, meaning mice with two genetic fathers, and no genetic mother.
The lead scientist was interviewed in a variety of popular outlets:
"Even if scientists can overcome all of the technical barriers, it won't be so easy to remove women from the reproductive equation. After all, even the mice with two fathers aren't precisely motherless. 'You need a uterus,' Behringer said, adding dryly, 'People always forget this'."
"Gee thanks, Doc," I remember saying. And: "Someone will write a book about this."
Every so often, I'd follow up. Two years later, seeing that no one had written anything , I started to write. Fitfully, hesitantly, and with no confidence. After two years, I had a bunch of disjointed fragments and put them aside.
In 2014, I had a fortuitous accident. My computer broke. I didn't want to go through the trouble of researching a replacement so I dropped it off at a local shop and I started writing everything by hand.
I, or rather my hand, returned to this abandoned project. What resulted wasn't about mice, it was about people who inherited a society in which experiments in reproductive technology were the norm. The characters got into scrapes and muddles and figured their way out of them, by tinkering and blind faith. As we all do. Always have, always will.
Five years and two hundred and fifty thousand words later, I had written a book. Two books, actually. To this day I can't decide whether I wrote them, or they wrote themselves.
In any case, welcome -- and enjoy the journey!
The Journey You Start Isn’t The One You Finish
It's year 0093 in the New Calendar, 2165 in the Old. The world is run by the fiercely competitive, hierarchical Council of the Brotherhood Orders. The Council has destroyed the nation-state and the family and for the first time in human history there is peace on earth. “All Men Are Brothers”—literally. Women are sex slaves or surrogates used to breed sons for high-ranking Alphas, and the Council plans to produce sons with two genetic fathers, using lobotomized women as wombs.
Half-brothers Jed and Max Kleer share little except an Alpha and a bond neither understands. The Council's grand plans don't concern them. They’re washouts and won’t be Alphas themselves.
Forty-nine-year-old Jed was booted from a top job in the prestigious Appraisal Department after an alcoholic breakdown. He toils in the dreary Archives Department with snotty interns, pops alcohol replacement pills, and yearns to return to Appraisal, where he had the power to order what to keep and what to destroy from “the Before.” Max is a forty-six-year-old adolescent, bartering junk in a squatter community, smoking pellets, rebelling against authority.
Jed's hopes come true when he is transferred to an outpost in the Sonoran Desert and reinstated to Appraisal. He misses Max, but he’ll soldier on.
In a drunken card game, Jed casually wins a prize: Hannah Joyner, a girl abducted from a village back east. Two weeks later Max shows up, needing to lie low. Jed and Max resolve to guide the lost girl home.
What could possibly go wrong?
The journey they start won't be the one they finish.
Technium defies the conventions of the dystopian genre by combining romance, humor, and lyrical meditations on the America that once was. It consists of two volumes: The Brothers Of Redemption, and A Daughter Of Her People.
The tsunami rages
Over the shore
The earthquake cracks
The world to its core
Buildings crumble, people die,
Where is the I
In the center of this storm?
All is torn, all is past,
Yet will transform
On some appointed day—
When the promised last shall be first.