A Space Western collides with Cyberpunk.
"After a surveillance culture has taken control over the galaxy, itâs up to an eclectic group of misfits from disparate corners of the cosmos to rediscover the forbidden concepts of life, love and liberty."
"The Helix was created to revolutionize the way we communicate, connect, and share. It brought the entire galaxy to our doorstep. It gave us the ability to collaborate with a single thought, but even the purest of intentions can spawn terrible evil. After a surveillance culture has used the Helix to take control over the galaxy, itâs up to an eclectic group of misfits from disparate corners of the cosmos to rediscover the forbidden concepts of life, love and liberty.â
The Amaranth Chronicles: Deviant Rising, a compelling sci-fi novel written by Alexander Barnes & Christopher Preiman tells the story of a colony and its people fighting for its freedom from a mandatory type of technology designed by a corrupt government to surreptitiously take control of the human mind.
A Space Western collides with Cyberpunk.
"After a surveillance culture has taken control over the galaxy, itâs up to an eclectic group of misfits from disparate corners of the cosmos to rediscover the forbidden concepts of life, love and liberty."
"The Helix was created to revolutionize the way we communicate, connect, and share. It brought the entire galaxy to our doorstep. It gave us the ability to collaborate with a single thought, but even the purest of intentions can spawn terrible evil. After a surveillance culture has used the Helix to take control over the galaxy, itâs up to an eclectic group of misfits from disparate corners of the cosmos to rediscover the forbidden concepts of life, love and liberty.â
The Amaranth Chronicles: Deviant Rising, a compelling sci-fi novel written by Alexander Barnes & Christopher Preiman tells the story of a colony and its people fighting for its freedom from a mandatory type of technology designed by a corrupt government to surreptitiously take control of the human mind.
LITHIA KNEW WHAT was in the crates in front of her. She had ordered this particular batch herself. Having both dreaded and waited for this moment, she took a few steps forward. Her boots echoed on the deck plate of her ship as she leaned down to open one of the smaller crates.
She keyed in a sequence on the crateâs safety lock. A split second later, the lid yawned open, exhaling a soft mist from its lips. Inside was a single plant. It seemed to be reaching up to greet her with its burgundy brushlike bristles. The aroma of damp soil washed over her. Lithia scooped up a handful of dirt from the inside of the crate. She moved it to her face and smelled it before letting the soil fall through her fingers. It smelled so alive. Itâs amazing how a smell can bring back a vivid memory. A simple, familiar scent can trigger a moving recollection, like a key opening a door you forgot was locked. For Lithia, the aroma of wet soil was home. It transported her back to her childhood, when the world was new and vibrant. It was the smell of the first chilled breeze on a cool summer evening. It was the moment the sun dipped below the trees and began to wink away beyond the edge of the world. It was the perfume of satisfaction after a long day of helping her mother tend to the arboretum. Even after all this time, she could still remember the sound of the little dolphin wind chimes that hung from the porch.
The family arboretum was always an adventure waiting to happen. Every plant and every flower was a character in a story. Her mother had told her countless tales about each of them. About why each flower was important and why it was unique.
Lithia had been only seven Earth years old the day her mother told her the legend of the amaranth. Lithia had found her in the back of the family arboretum working on a patch of flowers. Lithia thought she had smelled, sneezed at, and picked the petals off every flower the universe had to offer, but she had never seen one like this before.
âWhat kind of flowers are those, Mommy?â the young Lithia had asked, furrowing her brows at the crimson, brushlike appearance of the plant. Lithiaâs mother looked up from her work; she raised her eyebrows and smiled. Her motherâs smile was beautiful, and the swell of her pregnant stomach lent to the nurturing warmth of it. It radiated all the goodness and happiness in the world. When her mother smiled like that, Lithia almost didnât mind that her father was rarely there.
âIf you come over here and help me, I will tell you a story about it.â Her mother beckoned to her with a small trowel.
She loved her motherâs stories. They were nothing like her fatherâs, which were all about swashbucklers and cowboys. Her motherâs stories were legends and fairy tales. To this day, Lithia didnât know whose stories she liked better.
Lithia had run over and hugged her mother, who let out a chuckle. Sheâd gotten so big, it was all Lithia could do to get her arms around the bulge in her stomach.
âTell me the story, Mommy!â Lithia had exclaimed.
âNot so fast,â her mother had said. Sheâd held her at armâs length for a moment and examined her face before letting her go. âYou know . . . youâre beginning to look more like me every day. I wonder if your brother will look more like me or Daddy.â
Lithia wasted no time and knelt in the dirt to help. She had been helping her mother since sheâd gotten too big to garden comfortably on her own. Sheâd flung dirt to the side, making a hole for the flower sitting in a large pot.
âThese flowers look strange, Mommy. Iâve never seen anything like them before. What are they?â
Lithia had little interest in gardening, but as long as she could hear a story, sheâd keep working. At least until the story was over.
âThese . . . these are very special flowers.â
âThey donât look so special,â Lithia had said.
âLooks can be deceiving. If I tell you a story, do you promise never to forget it?â
âYes, Mommy.â
âOnce upon a time, an amaranth and a rose grew side by side in a garden just like ours . . .â
âThis is just a story about growing flowers? I thought it was going to be about magic!â Lithia had exclaimed, jabbing the trowel into the dirt and standing up.
Lithia had been an obstinate child, but luckily this was matched by her motherâs patience. She remembered her mother smiling and silencing her by pressing the flowerpot into her hand. âRemember what I said. These are special flowers.â
âTheyâre just flowers! They donât look special,â Lithia had whined.
Her mother had struggled to her feet and smiled down at Lithia. âWould I tell you a story just about flowers?â
Lithia had looked up and cocked one of her eyebrows. Her mother had the upper hand. Lithia poked at the ground faster, making up for lost time.
âOnce upon a time, an amaranth and a rose blossomed side by side. The rose was beautiful, lush, and red. It was the color of love and passion. The amaranth felt plain in comparison. It was so jealous of the rose that one day the amaranth said in frustration, âYouâre so beautiful and you smell so nice, no wonder youâre everyoneâs favorite!â
âThe rose was shocked. She looked at the amaranth and replied, âBut my beauty is fleeting. My petals will fall, and my beauty will die. Your blossom will never fade. You are everlasting.ââ
âYou mean, amaranths never die . . . not even if you donât water them?â Lithia had asked as she finished planting the mysterious flower.
âNo. You still have to water them, but they are a symbol of everlasting life. That which never fades, even after being cut.â
âI donât get it . . . they live forever?ââYouâll understand someday, Lithia. Just promise me youâll never forget the story,â her mother had said, pulling her daughter into an embrace.
Lithia then pulled away, giggling. She buried her face in the freshly planted flower and inhaled. The cool, crisp aroma filled her lungs.
Lithia pulled herself from her childhood memory and back to the real world. The memory of that warm summer afternoon so many years ago got fuzzy, blending into all the other magenta-colored afternoons from her childhood. She slid back to the present, away from the family orchard and the habitation dome sheâd grown up in. Snapping back to a cold metallic room, bathed in a soft amber glow, she felt a sudden longing for those warm, fresh, fragrant days back on Venus.
The cargo control room she was standing in began to blur as a few soft tears beaded in her eyes. Sheâd known this trip would bring back memories like this, and she reassured herself she could handle it. That those warm, naive childhood memories were far behind her and in a place that could no longer get to her. She knew things were different now as she stood in the cargo area of her vessel, surrounded by industrial loading equipment, and staring at a large stack of shipping crates marked: FLORA.
Lithia leaned her face toward the flower in the middle of the crate and inhaled again. The cool, crisp aroma filled her lungs like it always had, but this time there was something different. Those warm, innocent memories seemed more real for only a few fleeting seconds as sensations from simpler times washed over her before fading into smaller disjointed recollections. She remembered how tall the roof of the dome theyâd lived in had seemed, and how the glass shimmered at night. She remembered leaning back on a hill behind her house, wondering if the sky over other planets, like Earth, was just as beautiful. She remembered that, at the time, sheâd had no idea Terrans didnât live in domes like her family did on Venus.
She took a few steps back from the crate and away from her flashbacks. Her world had changed so much since those days.
If only time machines were real, maybe she could go back and tell herself to truly treasure those afternoons with her family. They would all be gone one day.
She needed to draw the line and stop herself. When the impending dark cloud of her teenage memories began to collect on the horizon of her mind. When the smell of freshly cut grass and curried chicken began to dissolve into the smell of ash and embers and the terrible things that took those wonderful, blissfully innocent days away.
Lithia found herself pushing those dark clouds away with the resolve of the present. She needed to seal up the crate and get back to the bridge to take control of her ship.
She dug around in her jacket pocket and pulled out a large, shiny metal earring. She cocked her head to the side, never losing eyesight of the amaranth in the crate. She snapped her earring in place and ran her finger along the outside edge as it covered the length of her ear, finally coming to a loop at the base of her earlobe.
There was a split-second tingle, like ice-cold water running down her spine, as little twinkling lights in her field of view assembled into strings of numbers before arranging into a little computerized helix symbol. The word âConnectedâ blinked below before both images faded away.
Lithia knelt to close the crate and then left the cargo room. She considered washing her hands before returning to the cockpit but decided not to. She wanted to keep the richness of those memories with her as long as possible. Sometimes her memories brought her so much peace and comfort. The smell of dirt triggered it every time. Now it was hers to take back in the delivery ship she affectionately named the Amaranth, to a place far away from where she grew up. A placed called San Francisco.
Imagine a world where a giant corporation uses its social media technology to influence its users while controlling and manipulating the worldâs information. Sounds familiar, right? Now imagine what this scenario would be like 1,000 years into the future, with its technology spanning across galaxies. Such is the premise for Deviant Rising, book one of The Amaranth Chronicles, a fun sci-fi adventure with a summer blockbuster action-movie sensibility.
The Helix is more than just an earring, itâs a wearable search engine with a holographic display that has access to almost all data in the universe. While useful, itâs a controversial piece of tech that has created further rifts in class divide, among various other problems. Yet, shadowy figures behind the Helix are attempting to spread it across the galaxy with nefarious intentions. After a peaceful demonstration against the Helix turns deadly, our characters become entangled in a growing rebellion until they find themselves harboring a secret that could change humanity. Oh yeah, thereâs also indestructible, cybernetically-enhanced monsters after them, so, uh, good luck with all that.
There were a few issues that stood out while reading this. Thereâs some minor stuff, such as a case of âinsta-loveâ where two characters decided theyâre in love only 24 hours after meeting each other. That level of forced romance is more grating than endearing. Another time, a character picks up a gun for the first time and learns how to shoot⌠and a few hours later, that character has a few kills to their name while winning a gunfight against a squad of trained military officers. Hmm. But the most glaring thing that bothered me about the writing was how little credit the authors seemed to give the audience. There was a tendency to overexplain everything. There was no use of subtext, no chance for the audience to think for themselves. Every characterâs emotion and motivation were spoon-fed to us. I would have appreciated the story more if I wasnât told what everyone was thinking all the time.
Above grievances aside, this is an enjoyable read that builds steam and gets better the further it goes along. The characters were likable and the authors have laid out plenty of world-building groundwork for the volumes ahead. Although it doesnât add too many new ideas to the genre, I can recommend it for those who enjoy a fast-moving, action-heavy space opera that leaves the door wide open for many more adventures to come.Â