The Last Advocate is a cautionary tale of how things might progress in the world if we don’t change our ways.
THE YEAR IS 2098
In a desolate future where Earth is divided into zones of despair and privilege, Doctor Marcus Jarret has a life most can only dream of in the elite crystal zone. But when Anja, the woman he loves, vanishes, Marcus is thrust into the unstable yellow zone, a territory teeming with secrets. Accompanied by Finch, a watchful Associate Advocate, Marcus stumbles upon a horrifying truth – plans to wipe out entire zones and their desperate inhabitants.
With the fate of humanity hanging by a thread, they must unravel a conspiracy led by the enigmatic Leader and make agonising sacrifices.
Narrated by the Last Advocate, an unborn entity observing humanity’s final gambit, this gripping tale reveals shocking truths about our past, present and a perilous future.
Can Marcus and Finch defy fate and prevent a cataclysm before time runs out?
The Last Advocate is a cautionary tale of how things might progress in the world if we don’t change our ways.
THE YEAR IS 2098
In a desolate future where Earth is divided into zones of despair and privilege, Doctor Marcus Jarret has a life most can only dream of in the elite crystal zone. But when Anja, the woman he loves, vanishes, Marcus is thrust into the unstable yellow zone, a territory teeming with secrets. Accompanied by Finch, a watchful Associate Advocate, Marcus stumbles upon a horrifying truth – plans to wipe out entire zones and their desperate inhabitants.
With the fate of humanity hanging by a thread, they must unravel a conspiracy led by the enigmatic Leader and make agonising sacrifices.
Narrated by the Last Advocate, an unborn entity observing humanity’s final gambit, this gripping tale reveals shocking truths about our past, present and a perilous future.
Can Marcus and Finch defy fate and prevent a cataclysm before time runs out?
We are approaching the end of the 21st century. It is the year 2098 and darkness has come. Not the kind brought about by nightfall, nor that of an eclipse. This is an ice-cold darkness of the soul. It could have been of the devil’s own making if one believed in the concept of heaven and hell. I do not. Or rather, I currently cannot. And in many ways, this only serves to make the realisation so much harder, and the acceptance of what is happening so much more unpalatable.
As a child, my organic grandmother was brought up on a diet of science fiction novels that had once belonged to her great, great uncle. They were still paper based back then, and she found their yellow, and often crumbling, pages quite a novelty. What incredible imaginations these authors had, and what marvellous storytellers: Verne, Asimov, Wells, Dick, Bradbury, Herbert, Banks, and Crichton were some of the most revered in their time but there was certainly a glut of enthusiastic writers in the genre. Over a century ago they wrote of amazing creatures, and unearthly enterprises, daring space travel and breath-taking technology. Tragic and yet humorous in so many ways given what we know now, but gallant and entertaining, nonetheless. In some cases, they even proved to be inspirational to the scientists of the day who challenged themselves to try and make many of their ideas reality. There were, on occasion, strong links between science fiction and science fact, but on the whole these authors were not to be the collective Nostradamus-like figures many had dreamed of, and some had prayed for. Indeed, had any of these writers benefited from the genetic longevity we do now, they too would have been chilled, perhaps horrified, and heartbroken at the present status of our home, our species, and the once abundant life-forms that dwelled here.
Assimilating all their great words, and amazing visions, throughout her youth proved to be of little benefit to my organic grandmother in helping her prepare for her own future. If anything, they only served to make the disappointment far greater.
But I am getting ahead of myself. You do not know who I am. I would like to be able to tell you my name, but I do not currently possess one. I have not been afforded one yet. Names are reserved for the born, not for a collection of cells destined to develop into a human foetus. I am one of many collections of cells that have been mechanically withdrawn, with or without the permission of their hosts. The host, in this instance being my organic mother.
May I tell you about her for a just moment? She is so very beautiful. I can see her now – right now in fact – walking along a path, the artificial daylight cascading off the generous waves of her long, chestnut hair, which bounces as she walks. She is smiling vacantly, not sure of herself, or her position in her community. She is feeling vulnerable and empty but pretending that all is well. Certainly, her body is empty of the potential child she was carrying until a week ago. Although accepting of why this had to happen, I can tell she feels a sadness and longing. I wish I could reassure her that I feel no such sadness. How can I when I don’t currently exist in human form? How can an entity that has experienced nothing of life, feel anything of death, or understand the concept of grief ? I am, at present, merely an observer of situations. And only a temporary observer of the catastrophic events that have already occurred, and the tragedies that could perhaps be averted, but are yet to come.
At some point in the future, it will be time for me to be forwarded, but until then I am in what you would call a state of limbo. I have an organic father although he and my mother do not know each other. His contribution to my future life was frozen specifically for the assistance of further generational reproduction. I also have a future parent although he does not know this yet. He is currently sitting in his office, absorbing an endless flow of information, and converting it into the rational and emotional segments humans need to promote understanding. He is a smart man with an IQ well above average. He is capable of great things and is secretly growing frustrated with the restraints he must work under, in order to be seen as compliant with the Leader.
Despite predictions during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries that by 2050 the earth’s population would exceed the resources the planet could afford, the situation continued to deteriorate. There were far too many human beings, and only a fraction of the resources required to sustain them. Not only did the earth’s population continue to increase, but the beings in more advanced societies also continued to live for longer and longer periods. My organic mother’s life expectancy, for example, is now one hundred and twenty-five years. She is currently just twenty-four. Her generation was modified at birth to remove her Alzheimer’s and heart disease genes, as well as the majority of her cancer genes. When I am forwarded I will exceed her life years by some considerable time. Such has been the power of genome modification.
It has been a time of extremes. The society in which I exist has invested heavily in the modification of our human genetic composition, and in our surroundings. The founders also pillaged the contents of the Svaldbard Global Seed Vault, also known as The Doomsday Vault, in what was then called Norway. But in the outside world, things are very different. All the talk of creating harvestable crops that could be sustained in the harshest of deserts, or in saline outposts, has proven to be insufficient. Seventy percent of the planet has vast populations that are starving and diseased. These are the people who had the misfortune of being born in the wrong time, and in the wrong places. As has been historically recorded, sympathetic words from those more fortunate do not alleviate suffering.
I must now rest for a while. They will shortly be here to make another modification to my cellular development.
In a future, human-damaged Earth the elite live away from the rest of humanity in a crystal-domed city ruled by the Advocates. There they live a life of considerable comfort in a hierarchical order dictated by the generation they have been born into: pre- or post-enhancement. Outside the city is the yellow zone, violent and unstable, where most people live in abject poverty, and a red zone where drought caused by climate change has made life almost impossible. Marcus lives in the crystal city and when Anja the woman he loves inexplicably disappears into the yellow zone, he is delegated to find her. However, a watchful Associate Advocate, called Finch is assigned to accompany him.  Subject to attack by pookies (roving criminal gangs) and trying to help Sylvie, an escapee from zone 3, they are grateful for the help of those they meet en route. But there are terrible secrets that Marcus knows nothing about.
I must confess I didn’t enjoy reading this as much as I should have, even though the story itself was gripping.  The structure was pretty much chronological and worked well and the characterisation was fine. We were invested in Marcus (kind but naïve), the enigmatic Anya and the brave Sylvie as well as the various characters they meet, like Winter and Harvey. And, although not always entirely natural, the dialogue was ok.
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However the effect of the whole was that of being beaten over the head with a climate change hammer. It would have been far more effective to have allowed the condition of the world we are presented with to speak for itself. To be shown but not told. The odd sentence of explanation is fine but whole paragraphs of climate change disaster so frequently and in the midst of the action seems overkill.
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In addition, any information given should be relevant to the plot and move the story forward. Ling Ling, for example, is a charming character who comes from Hong Kong. That fact is possibly relevant but a long paragraph telling us that Hong Kong was betrayed by the British in the past is not.   It holds the story back just when we're about to find out how Ling Ling can help Marcus find Anya.
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However, there’s a good story in there and if you want to discover more about the dangers of climate change this is the place to look!