In a thrilling, science fiction adventure novel, Mind Masters takes you to a world where no one can lie, not even to themselves. Your thoughts are no longer yours; your mind, no longer your private refuge. A world where viral nanotechnology causes global telepathy.
Magan, jobless and aimless, is suddenly forced into the middle of global mayhem as she struggles to remain alive. Terrified, she watches humanity tear each other apart and empires fall as truth is revealed⌠and itâs all her fault.
Hiding in a forest cabin with a group of survivors, Magan must learn to master her thoughts to become a fierce warrior. Evolved skills are discovered in her quest to stop one who can mind-control others to their end. Risking her life, her soul mate, and her new family of survivors, she must abandon her old ways that hold her back. In the final battle, she uncovers a surprising revelation about the power of love that forever alters her fate.
In a thrilling, science fiction adventure novel, Mind Masters takes you to a world where no one can lie, not even to themselves. Your thoughts are no longer yours; your mind, no longer your private refuge. A world where viral nanotechnology causes global telepathy.
Magan, jobless and aimless, is suddenly forced into the middle of global mayhem as she struggles to remain alive. Terrified, she watches humanity tear each other apart and empires fall as truth is revealed⌠and itâs all her fault.
Hiding in a forest cabin with a group of survivors, Magan must learn to master her thoughts to become a fierce warrior. Evolved skills are discovered in her quest to stop one who can mind-control others to their end. Risking her life, her soul mate, and her new family of survivors, she must abandon her old ways that hold her back. In the final battle, she uncovers a surprising revelation about the power of love that forever alters her fate.
SOMETHING FELT WRONG. Swerving through cars and running red lights, Magan sped through side streets in her old green Dodge. She was running late. Sheâd barely rolled out of bed; the cold shower didnât help, nor did the triple espresso. Her distressed jeans felt awkwardly snug and her long auburn hair tangled like a ratâs nest. Fighting the pit in her stomach, sheâd grabbed her belongings and reluctantly dashed to an âexclusiveâ study on intuition.Â
âDamn it,â she hit her hand on the steering wheel when the stoplight turned yellow, slammed the gas pedal, and zoomed through the intersection. Car horns blared. âSorry!â she yelled back and slid down in her cracked seat. Her mind scrambled in anticipation. âWhat is the worst that could happen? I have to guess some flashcards?â Being wrong about every life decision from men to her career, she didnât have an ounce of intuition and questioned why theyâd selected her. Shrugging her trim shoulders, she took a deep breath and drove down a tree-lined Oregon road.Â
She had no choice: rent was already late, and sheâd maxed out her credit cards. With the studyâs initial payment, she could placate her landlord and pay her bills. A win-win. Assuming these researchers didnât kick her out once they realized she had no intuition to study. Hmm, there was that.
Hesitantly following her GPS, she turned down a narrow, winding road, graveled and rutted, heading into an unfamiliar valley. She had lived in this town all her life but never knew this old road existed. Easing up on the gas pedal, Magan noticed the bushes growing thicker and the road becoming dark, with dead branches reaching down to her like crooked fingers under the thick canopy of trees. Inhaling slowly, she softened her pounding heartbeat.Â
Finally, a clearing appeared with a field of dead grass surrounding an old brick building. Spotting a small, wooden sign with fresh paint that read âResearch Center,â she pulled into the driveway, up to large double gates. A tall guard with a crew cut and black uniform lifted his right hand robotically, motioning her to stop. In his left hand, he carried a digital black box with an 8-inch square display.Â
âHello, maâam, are you Magan Silver?âÂ
âAh, yeahâŚhow did you know?â
Without glancing at her, he continued typing in his wireless display box and then shoved the display in front of Maganâs left arm. With a deep, booming voice, he said, âI need to see your driverâs license, acceptance letter, and please place your hand on this scanner.â
Maganâs jaw dropped. âYou need to scan my hand? Isnât this a little much for a simple study?â
The guard didnât blink, just squared his broad shoulders. âStandard procedure, maâam.â
Magan stared ahead and gripped her steering wheel, fighting every muscle that screamed to turn around and go home. Ignoring her better judgment, she gave him the documents and slapped her hand on the cold metal scanner. As the lasers traced her hand, she noticed three cameras pointing straight at her from the top, left, and right of the gate. Feeling violated, she pulled up to the main building mumbling, âI hope the money is worth it.âÂ
She walked through the sterile white lobby for more security checks. Guards dissected all her bags, made her walk through a biometric body-scanner, and had her sign a lengthy non-disclosure letter before entering the main hallway. But when they tried to confiscate her cell phone for âsecurity purposes,â her hand death-gripped her device. âNo way. This is my lifeline. Look, I will turn it off.â Another young, fully-armed guard in a navy-blue security suit walked up, âMaâam, Iâm required to secure your phone. It will be safely returned after the experiment.â Clenching her teeth, she glared at the guard as she slowly placed her phone in her designated metal box. The guard turned toward the elevator. âYou can follow me now, maâam.âÂ
They stepped into an elevator with padded gray walls. The guard scanned his hand on a display in the elevator wall, looked through the device for a retina scan, and typed a code on a black keypad. The elevator doors squeaked closed. Magan felt her stomach turn as the elevator traveled downâŚdownâŚand down some more. She cleared her throat and muttered, âUm, how far down does this go?âÂ
Without moving, he answered, âThat is confidential maâam.âÂ
The stale air thickened as they traveled down in silence. A digital display indicated they had traveled past the 20th level when the elevator shuddered to a stop, making her stomach drop. When the doors finally squeaked open, Magan lunged to the opening door to breathe in fresh air. Even though it smelled like recycled hospital air, it was better than the dank elevator. She followed the guard through a stark white hallway with white tiled floor. They entered into a cramped waiting room with more white walls, tile, and buzzing fluorescent lights. She sighed when they walked in, breathing in more musty air. The guard signed release papers, then nodded and walked outâleaving Magan standing at the door, sweating with anxiety.Â
Magan wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, brushed back her long hair, took a deep breath, and shuffled past the waiting area to the front desk. She tried to ignore the dozen women and men sitting quietly in fold-up chairs. A woman in thick round glasses and a collared, pea-green dress glared at her from behind the desk. She squinted while pushing her glasses up her narrow nose. âPlease place all materialsâjackets, wallets, keys, jewelryâin this container and have a seat.âÂ
Magan rolled her eyes and surrendered the last of her personal belongings. She turned around and noticed the other twelve participants. All looked dumbstruck and equally naked of any belongings.
A squeaky air vent was the only sound heard. She looked for a seat while passing a middle-aged man whose left eye twitched as he grinded his teeth and stared at his feet. Next to him sat a large bald man flaring his nostrils and cracking his knuckles while a bony woman sat biting her nails and bouncing her left leg up and down like a piston. One girl in her 20s twirled each strand of her sandy-blond hair as she nervously smacked her gum. Another woman stared at the ceiling while gnawing on a pen. Magan gulped at the scene and sat down in a cold metal chair, wondering how she fit in with this group of nervous oddballs. Then again, since nothing in her life seemed to work out, maybe this is exactly where she belonged. The thought made her slump in her seat.
After a few minutes, a rotund doctor with a gray beard and soft white hair walked into the room. His wrinkled lab coat bounced slightly as he stepped before the nervous participants. He glanced at the air vent and smiled, taking a deep breath. âMm-hmm,â he studied each individual intently, adding another âHmm,â as they stared back at him blankly. As his gentle eyes danced slowly around the room, Magan felt like he could see right through each person.
He pushed his glasses up his button nose and spoke with a resonant but calm voice. âHello ladies and gentlemen. My name is Dr. Kowalski and I am responsible for the Human Preternatural Psychogenic Project, also known as HPPP, the study of mental telepathy, the process of sending or receiving thoughts from one person to another. Thank you for coming today and enduring the arduous questionnaires and surveys over the last few months. We interviewed over 1,000 individuals and due to a variety of factors, each of you has been carefully handpicked for this experiment. We feel this is a rare opportunity. Each of you will need to answer a few last questions before we can begin.â
As he was leaving the room, he turned back, half chuckling, and casually mentioned, âOh, and I do recommend that you answer these questions honestly, for us and, more importantlyâŚfor yourselves. Thank you and good luck.â With a twinkle in his eyes, he smiled slowly at each person and left.
Taking a deep breath, Magan took a good look aroundâeveryone seemed bewildered but one man with thick black hair at the back of the room. As she sat up in her chair, their eyes locked. She looked down but could still feel his crystal blue eyes gazing at her. Toes curled and face flushed, she glanced back and noticed he had casually looked away. She could barely see his striking eyes as his shag hair fell gently over his tan face and defined cheekbones. He wore a black sweaterâjust tight enough to reveal his broad shoulders and muscular build yet loose enough to fall over his tight, faded jeans. He looked like a sculpted model with rough edges, and it surprised Magan that she had missed seeing him before. Perhaps she had been too distraught to notice.
Most of the women were politely glancing at him. Calmly detached, he studied the lady behind the desk, not caring if she noticed his curious stare. Magan noticed that just watching him created a stir in her stomach, a nervous thirst that made her twitch and look away, only to be forced back into gazing at his relaxed stillness in a room of thick tension. She had been married for only a year, realizing that they were both too young to settle down at 19. Despite an amicable divorce, and years since passed, taking an interest in any man was petrifying. Somehow, this mysterious man captivated her. She shook her head to snap out of the trance.Â
For the first time in years, Magan took inventory of her appearance. She pulled back her hair to reveal her hazel, almond-shaped eyes. Straightening the light-blue sweater that accentuated her fit figure, she smiled inside, relieved sheâd put on some lipstick before she ran out. But the mysterious man never looked back. Figures. He was way above her caliber. Humiliated by her mindâs useless ability to hope and daydream, she slumped back down in her chair and joined the others by looking down at her shoes.Â
The lady behind the desk finally broke the dead silence by calling one name at a time and ushering each person down the hall.Â
âMagan Silver?â Magan jumped up and followed the lady through a door, down a corridor, and into a cramped interrogation room. Relieved to escape the pull of the mystery man, she followed the lady apprehensively, wondering again why theyâd chosen her for this study.Â
Magan sat on one side of a wooden table facing Dr. Kowalski and the two women by his side. They all had a foot-high file in front of them with her name on the top cover. The gaunt woman in the middle with large rectangular glasses spoke first. âHi Magan. My name is Dr. Helen Stern. I know you must have many questions, but first, we must brief you on security measures. If you decide to participate, you will need to verify your agreement to the secrecy of this experiment.â The womanâs thin lips attempted a smile but missed the mark. Everyone stared and waited for Magan to respond, so she nodded.
âGood,â the not-quite smile disappeared as she continued, âYouâre strictly prohibited from discussing any aspect of what you see, hear, or experience to anyone, including family, with no exceptions and no recourse. Appropriate actions will be instigated if you violate this requirement. Do you agree to these terms?â
Magan sat back in her chair. âUh, wait. If I talk to someone, I agree that you can take⌠appropriate actions?â
The woman shoved a black handheld device in Maganâs face. âI need a confirmed âYESâ spoken directly into this recorder.â
Magan felt herself bristle. Yes, sheâd heard. Would she be sued? They waited for her response. Finally, she replied, âLook, I have no need to share this⌠joyfulâŚexperience, okay? Besides, it would be social suicide.â
All three stared blankly at Magan, ignoring her sarcasm, the recording device pushed a bit closer. She wanted to ask more, but the womanâs cold stare was even more condescending than her tone had been.
She figured this had to be like that Area 51 thing sheâd seen on documentaries, where even years later guards and technicians still kept mum about the little green aliens they dissected. But, hey, she wasnât involved in more than using her intuition to see or hear or know stuff. And, she sighed, soon enough theyâd know it would be only a guess on her part anyway.Â
Looking up to the ceiling to hide her fret, Magan rubbed both hands through her hair to calm her thoughts. The original interviewer had confirmed she could keep their initial payment, even if, as the man had said, âthings donât work out.â She desperately needed the money since sheâd quit her pathetic job, and it wasnât just chump change. And she had no family to tell anything to anyway, except her brother.
Rolling her eyes at the annoying lady, figuring these were just stupid scare tactics anyway, she leaned forward. âUghâŚwhatever. OkayâŚYes.â
Why would anyone care about someone just guessing some square or circle behind a card anyway? She wouldnât be intimidated by absurdity. It was probably just some stupid legal formality.Â
âGreat, meet Dr. Admins, who will now give you the details.â Dr. Stern nodded at the plump woman with bright blue eyeshadow to her right, got up, and left. The womanâs hairpins jingling as she giggled, her presence seemed oddly mothering and familiar.Â
She clapped her hands. âOh my dear Magan! You canât imagine how excited we all are to start this experiment. We could have the most profound impact on humanity.âÂ
She pulled up her sleeves and leaned forward. âNow honey, this may get technical but just bear with me. Through a simple injection, you will receive a harmless medibot, a medical nanobot, which is a cell-sized, electro-mechanical robot that will travel to your brain through your bloodstream to literally âwake upâ your seventh sense, your ability to perform mental telepathy. The nanobot can sense and respond to your bodyâs changes, move to specific locations, communicate wirelessly, perform molecular assembly, and self-repair. They run on nanobatteries, nanostructure anodes and cathodes that are smaller and more powerful than traditional batteries. We have already confirmed that you are not allergic to any of the nanomaterials used in the medibotâs construction. Isnât that just amazing!â
Magan stared blankly as her breath stopped, wondering what the heck she just got herself into. âHuh? You want to inject a small robot in my brain? Youâre joking, right?âÂ
The doctor smiled and cleaned her glasses. âDonât you worry now, once I explain the science, it wonât feel so scary. You see, the medibot will create molecular bonds to activate more of your thalamus, thatâs the biological gateway or switch to the frontal lobes of your brain, and expand your ability to decipher more frequencies, such as those produced by othersâ thoughts. It will stay there for the duration of the experiment, four weeks. And when itâs over, itâs programmed to break those molecular bonds, detach, enter your bloodstream, and exit through defecation.â She folded her hands in satisfaction.Â
Magan didnât breathe but felt a slight headache emerging.
The doctor sighed. âOh honey, you simply poop this little robot out. You wonât feel a thing. We track it throughout the entire process to make sure youâre safe. Weâve experimented on hundreds of monkeys and even human volunteers. All procedures were done successfully with no known harmful side effects. We are now taking this technology out to the public,â she smiled, her eyes lighting up, âAnd you get to be a part of our first testing group! Donât you feel lucky?â
Magan didnât smile. âThrilled.â
Magan examined Dr. Admins carefully, oddly soothed by her bouncy cheerfulness after the baffling admittance process. She noticed that the way the doctor styled her hairâshort and simpleâto the blue blouse she wore and white tennis shoes all created an uncanny remembrance to a favorite neighbor from childhood. It took a minute for her words to entirely sink in. Dr. Admins noticed Maganâs suspicion and began again, attempting to gain Maganâs confidence.
âIt will be like a little vacation for you. You get to try something new, meet new friends, explore your potential. Magan, I know itâs strange to not have any contact with the outside world until the experiment is done, but you will be surprised how fast a month goes by. Honey, you donât have to worry about a thing, all your food and housing will be supplied here at the Center. You get to start today! You can make one phone call, which we must listen to, to notify your brother in Washington. And then you can help us embark on technology that could bring world peace and understanding across many nations. Isnât this exciting? Are you ready?â Her hair pins jingled again as she grinned.Â
Magan sat up straight. âWhat do you mean, I can only call my brother?â
âOh honey, your phone call can be to anyone. We just know heâll be the one you call.â Dr. Admins glanced knowingly to Dr. Kowalski as he smiled back.
Magan sighed. âLook, Iâm happy I finally got a solid scientific explanation for whatâs going on. For, um, gaining telepathic abilities. But I havenât talked to my brother in months. I guess you think because Killian is the only family I have left, after my parentsâ death and my divorce, I would call him? Heâs some Washington bureaucratâtoo busy to involve himself with my âmundane Oregon life.â Nah,â she looked down at her hands, feeling tears well up, âhe wouldnât care if I called.â Even so, the doctor was right. Because she had no one left in her life, Magan knew he still would be the one.Â
Wiping her eyes, Magan shook off the stark reality of her lonely life. Besides, feeling like no one cared was nothing new. âSo, what happens if this nanobot thingy doesnât detach? How do I know you wonât fry my brain?â
âOh no, honey, we have no guarantees. Thatâs why we must have you sign all the release papers. But as you know, great gains require great risks.â She raised her eyebrowsâexposing her thick blue eyeshadow. âHey, donât look so down. We havenât had one malfunction yet.â Magan looked at the wall.
Dr. Admins leaned forward to gently place her hand on Maganâs. âMagan, we selected you because youâre not afraid to take risks. You have untapped potential.â
She shrugged. âOr you know I have nothing to lose.â
Dr. Adminsâ eyes softened as she grabbed Maganâs hand firmly. âThen together we help you create a whole new life. A new beginning. You are ready for this, Magan. You need this!âÂ
Magan sighed and sat in silence. Dr. Admins was right. She loved adventure, learning, and especially helping others. However, after countless disappointments of never finding the right purpose, relationship, or job, that passion had disappeared. Too many adventures had morphed into misadventures, and helping others had turned into obligations instead of appreciated effort. And a tolerable job? Or a Mr. Right? Wrong. Dr. Adminsâ words were almost too perfectâshe loosened her hand from the doctorâs grip and looked at the wall to think. She desperately needed a change, to do somethingâanythingâmeaningful. And the money. She needed rent money.
 Thinking about her brother made her pause. He would kill her if she got herself into another âembarrassingâ predicament. Then again, never calling to just say hi, he cared more about his precious image than her happiness. She was tired of living in his shadow. What did he do all day that was so important anyway? Write useless legislative bills that solved nothing? He had never discussed his job with her; he probably felt she was too stupid to understand. Maybe she could finally prove him wrong.
In sync with her thought, Dr. Admins leaned in and whispered, âTogether we can change the world.â
Magan sighed and agreed to their terms, signing the final document. She then signed a receipt for her initial payment, filling in directions to transfer a portion of it to her landlord and deposit the rest in her minuscule banking account. Dr. Kowalski, who still had not spoken, looked at Magan, smiled, and slowly nodded. An assistant guided her to the only room with an outside phone line.
Magan left a âlab approvedâ message for her brother, âHi Killian, just telling you to not freak out if you canât reach me for a month. Just taking a little vacation. And, yes, I have money, and no, Iâm not doing anything stupid. Chat when I get back. Ciao.â The technicians recorded the call.Â
As the doctors sauntered away down the hallway, Dr. Admins whispered to him, âYouâre sure itâs safe to use Magan, especially considering where her brother works?â Dr. Kowalski sighed with concern and said, âMagan doesnât know where Killian works or what he does, and she has the perfect psychological profile for what we need. You know how hard that is to find. Itâs worth the risk. Just donât tell the Board.â
As Magan was escorted to her private room, she noticed a wooden framed white poster hanging in the hallway with bold black lettering that read:Â
âYOU ARE NOT YOUR THOUGHTS.â
A courageous woman takes on a chaotic force in this dramatic sci-fi from Bridget McQueen. Magan Silver is desperate for money and has nothing left to lose and as a result, she agrees to participate in a study on telepathy. When sheâs selected to continue through the process, the doctors implant a small robot into her brain that will allow her to read the subtle frequencies of the brain, and therefore read minds. Sheâs joined by another selected participant, Steve Binder, who has been training for this moment his entire life. When a virus is unleashed on the public, Magan and Steve have no choice but to use their mind reading and mind controlling abilities to save humanity.
McQueen has a generally compelling conceptâthe world building around how the science works behind mind controlling other humans, as well as the idea of unlocking new abilities by conquering oneâs own fears and insecurities, is executed effectively. In addition, Magan is a strong female warrior who many readers will enjoy getting to know. Unfortunately, where this story comes up short when one looks at the relationships between characters.
The relationship between Magan and Steve is immediateâthe issue is not love at first sight or the immediate physical attraction, but the fact that the connection feels unearned. The audience is expected to recognize the deep love between Magan and Steve without the foundation to support it, thus making the relationship unconvincing.
In a similar vein, the stakes are too high at the beginning. Within the first quarter of the novel, the reader is told that the world will end if Magan and Steve do not take action. However, there is no specific crisis occurring at this time. As a result, itâs difficult to believe that the world is actually on the brink of destruction because the world is just as messed up as itâs always been, and the stakes donât feel high enough even though the reader is told they are. This is later remedied when a virus spreads, causing chaos to tear through the nation, but the pacing feels off.
While the main charactersâ personalities, actions, and thoughts are relatively detailed and intentionally written, the side characters are more cartoonish and less developed.
This book would be good for someone looking for a fast-paced, quick action read, but others may be deterred by the book's uneven relationship developments and plot execution.