Every night, Voodooâs nightmares force him to relive the past until suddenly they start to predict the future. At the same time, across the ocean in Japan, two world-renowned scientists go missing along with the secrets behind something called the âGod Algorithm.â
Fans of Tom Clancyâs Jack Ryan, Michael Crichtonâs techno-thrillers, or Jack Carrâs James Reece, will love this fast-paced thrill ride that puts you on the front lines of an A.I. arms race.
Can Voodoo find the answers in time? Or will his personal dreams morph into a world of nightmares?
Every night, Voodooâs nightmares force him to relive the past until suddenly they start to predict the future. At the same time, across the ocean in Japan, two world-renowned scientists go missing along with the secrets behind something called the âGod Algorithm.â
Fans of Tom Clancyâs Jack Ryan, Michael Crichtonâs techno-thrillers, or Jack Carrâs James Reece, will love this fast-paced thrill ride that puts you on the front lines of an A.I. arms race.
Can Voodoo find the answers in time? Or will his personal dreams morph into a world of nightmares?
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Bunkyo City
Tokyo, Japan
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Bam! Bam! Bam!
A fist pounded on the door, punctuated by the repeating jingle of the apartment doorbell.
The cacophony ripped Dr. âTakaâ Hawkins from her computer gameâinduced trance. She yanked her gaming headset off her head and rubbed her eyes as they readjusted to reality. Her mind, however, had no desire to readjust.
Most nights, she would be deep in a coding binge, her fingers orchestrating syntax, projecting scores of code like a cyber-Mozart. Instead, the music hall of her mind remained quiet tonightâno symphony, no opera, only the mind-numbing escape of a virtual fantasy world. She had been consuming the digital content of the role-playing game for the past three hours. A Michelin-starred chef at a cheap buffet restaurant. Just the fix she wanted, not the fix she really needed.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
She spun to face the front door.
âTaka-chan, Ichikawa desu. Hayaku doa akete kudasai!â
Dr. Hawkins sighed and shook her head. It was her mentor, Dr. Kenzo Ichikawa, the last person she wanted to see. Maybe I can ignore him? A glance at the clock: 1 a.m. What could he possibly want, or be able to say after what happened today?
She reluctantly traversed her small living space and spied through the peephole to see Dr. Ichikawa outside in a huff. With a click and a creak, she opened the door.
âTaka-chan, Iâm so sorry to barge in on you like this. Has anyone come by tonight or tried to get a hold of you?â He wrung his hands, his eyes wide. Sweat stained his blue dress shirt. His typically well-combed hair was a mess, and he appeared to have lost his rimless glasses.
âNo.â She frowned. She wanted to just close the door on him, the way she did earlier that day when she stormed out of their lab, but Dr. Kenzo Ichikawa always exhibited consistency and stability. Tonight, nothing about him seemed consistent or stable. âWhatâs going on? If youâre here to change my mind about quittingââ
The elderly Dr. Ichikawa waved off her words, stumbled through the entryway, flipped off his black dress loafers, and scurried inside.
The studio had a compact kitchen, an adjoining bathroom, a living space with a two-cushion couch, and a shelving unit built into the wall that held her futon and a television. A tiny desk hugged the far side where a gaming computer framed the frozen image of the paused game. The small and sparse quarters suited the scientist, who devoted her life to her work.
She folded her arms, both decorated in tattoo mosaics of birds, crashing waves, and the Anasazi god Kokopelli, and prepared herself for some elaborate attempt at reparation. Dr. Ichikawa indecisively fidgeted then settled on the couch, cradling his bag on his lap. At nearly six feet of height, Dr. Hawkins towered over him, glaring.
âIâŠI have something important I need to tell you.â His voice quivered. âI have made a grave mistake, and I fear I have put you at risk.â
âPut me at risk?â
âWellâŠsomeone. I have been keeping something from you even though the dreams told me this is inevitable.â
Dr. Hawkins blinked. Nothing is inevitable.
âDid you run the algorithm again orââ
âI ran it again and again. Nothing changes. I canât⊠It wonâtâŠâ He shook his head, then seemed to plead, âYou know, everything we have done has been to help peopleâŠbut Iâve gone too far.â His eyes drifted across the intricate blue and white oriental rug that overlay the tatami where she lays her futon each night. His countenance carried acceptance and defeat. He took a deep breath and shifted his remorseful eyes to meet hers. âI need you to trust meâŠas a colleague, as a friend, as aââ
âDonât even finish that sentence. After what youââ
âI know, I know,â he said with his hands raised in surrender. âJust trust me oneâŠlastâŠtime, please.â He swallowed. His heavy words clung to the air, pressing down on both of them.
Dr. Hawkins paused.
âWhatâŠwhat is it? Itâs not who I think it is, is it?â she asked, her brow furrowed. Perhaps he does have a foot in reality⊠Just one.
He reached into his brown messenger bag.
âI need you to sit and face toward the kitchen. I donât want you to see what I have in my bag until Iâm ready.â
âYouâre not making any sense. What do you have in the bag?â
âI just need you to trust meâŠplease. Everything will make sense in a moment.â
âFine,â she conceded, flinging her folded hands free. She knew deep down Dr. Kenzo Ichikawa held no malice. He was a troubled man after all. She had always known that. He was troubled in the way that peasants and commoners in mythology are troubled by meddling godsâtroubled by tragedy, troubled by gifts, troubled by time, of which Dr. Kenzo Ichikawa seemed to have too much, too many, and too little. So, she sat, settled in with her back to her mentor, her knees together, and her hands on her lap. Black yoga pants hugged her legs, and a baggy T-shirt with the print of some heavy metal bandâs skeleton mascot holding a gun defended her torso. Her long, dark honeyâcolored hair folded behind her ears and flowed along her tall, thin frame like water pouring from a pitcher.
âOw! What theââ She spun and grabbed her left shoulder. In his right hand, Dr. Ichikawa brandished a spent syringe.
âIâm sorry. I need to keep anyone from getting it. And this is the only way I knew how to do it.â He scrambled away from her, cowering from her anticipated anger.
âKenzo! You sonofaââ
She rubbed the point of injection on her shoulder.
He shoved the syringe back into his bag as his phone pinged. He scanned the text message, his face turning pale.
âI have little time. I must go. Thank you, Taka-chan. When all this is over, let history be kind to me.â A faint smile quickly bent the edge of his lips before dissolving. His seventy years of life passed and vanished in that simple expression. It wasnât an apology, it was a farewell. He rushed to the door, speared his shoes with his feet, and sprinted off into the rain.
âWhatâre you talking about? What did youââ
In a rush of emotions, her initial confusion shifted to waves of anger.
Dr. Hawkins, or Taka-chan, as she was known to her Japanese colleagues, suddenly understood. Our lives are in dangerâŠ
She popped up to run after him and stumbled when the room started spinning. She bobbled at the step before the entryway, one hand holding the door open, the floor pulling at her. She propped her other hand on the wall to catch herself as her eyelids grew heavy. She dropped clumsily on the step; the front door closedâŠthen her eyes.
              The Hawk Enigma is an action-rigged trigger-happy technothriller that follows the story of a team of optogenetic researchers in Japan who have created a tool with the potential to predict future events based on peopleâs dreams. Enter a team of American special ops when the scientists are disbanded and persecuted by (communist) corporations for access to this device in thirst for power.
               J.L. Hancockâs writing reads fluently and is balanced perfectly between humour and gravitas. The pacing is fast yet takes its time with proper explanation and description which makes the writing overall interesting and the story enjoyable. The characters are mostly well fleshed out and authentic, except for the reliance on villain clichĂ©s for the main antagonist. The writing incorporates some naturalist imagery (especially at the beginning) which works very well in portraying the emotional range and mindscape of the characters; additionally, it creates space in which the story can move away from the otherwise panoptic technophilia.
               Plotwise, the work done by the optogenetic research team is genuinely interesting, with enough holism to the science for it to move beyond the initial tech layer of cyberpunk. However, the book is steeped in Americanisms that fall prey to traditional military fictions. With phrases such as âAmericans are just more moralâ, âthey donât care about ethical issues like we doâ, âwe can help ourselves by helping the governmentâ and being âhonored to work with American militaryâ; the story is rife with the sentiment that Americans, particularly the military, are benign entities that are involved in foreign affairs for the sole purpose of aid. Progressively the book becomes more and more blatant and aggressive in its binary political views, using expressions like âaggressive communist countriesâ that are against the âfree worldâ freely in dialogue where speech like this is not necessary. Throughout the book the United States is explicitly equated to a leader of the so-called free world without a single hint of criticism or irony. The idea that the American military is a concerned and ultimately benevolent outfit is an extremely prevalent sentiment in American science fiction, and especially so in debut works. Itâs an overworked topic that is a disadvantage through the predictability that it brings to the outcome of the plot.
              Very generally speaking, the essence of science fiction imagines futures or realities that in some way present cultural shifts to modern problems. In form it provides small countercultures that question the current state of the world and the futures that can be envisioned, rather than relying on the structures and ideologies that already exist with no modifications. In this sense, this novel falls rather short of the essential alternative future-thinking trait that is so necessary to science fiction and to cyberpunk.
              The essential worldview that is presented in The Hawk Enigma is undeniably a cheer towards American military operatives which can certainly find an audience in American science fiction and military fiction readers. Yet as a techno-thriller that is marketed as a science fiction novel, it doesnât quite seem to understand itself. However, J.L. Hancock is certainly a very talented writer who is undoubtedly in his element when imagining A.I. realities and incorporates landscape and spirituality that are in general missing from cyberpunk works, and this is a welcome perspective to the otherwise uber-urban genre. Hancock is also knowledgeable about Japanese, Japanese culture and Shinto religion (at least to a layperson) and incorporates this actively into the plot. One can only look forward to an improved attempt at cyberpunk fiction. Â