Shimmer makes you forget—until it takes everything.
In the near-future and rain-soaked New Albion, shimmer is both escape and enslavement—and the Bureau for Virtue, always watching, ensures the world stays hooked.
Anouk Walker only wanted to survive until her next fix. But when a Bureau raid tears her closest friend away, she’s pulled into a Resistance whose ideals are as compromised as its methods.
Time is short; she must rescue Jimmy before the Factory erases who he is. To bring him back, she must confront the Factory itself—a dark place whispered about in fear, where shimmer’s horrific origins are hidden.
What begins as a desperate rescue becomes something larger: a fight over truth, loyalty and the human cost of hope. As the Bureau closes in and the lure of shimmer calls from the darkness, Anouk must decide not just who she’s willing to save, but what she’s willing to become.
The Midnight Factory is a gritty, haunting and psychological dystopian thriller about addiction, complicity and the fragile rebellions we build with the people we refuse to abandon. Perfect for fans of Margaret Atwood, Suzanne Collins, and P.D. James.
Shimmer makes you forget—until it takes everything.
In the near-future and rain-soaked New Albion, shimmer is both escape and enslavement—and the Bureau for Virtue, always watching, ensures the world stays hooked.
Anouk Walker only wanted to survive until her next fix. But when a Bureau raid tears her closest friend away, she’s pulled into a Resistance whose ideals are as compromised as its methods.
Time is short; she must rescue Jimmy before the Factory erases who he is. To bring him back, she must confront the Factory itself—a dark place whispered about in fear, where shimmer’s horrific origins are hidden.
What begins as a desperate rescue becomes something larger: a fight over truth, loyalty and the human cost of hope. As the Bureau closes in and the lure of shimmer calls from the darkness, Anouk must decide not just who she’s willing to save, but what she’s willing to become.
The Midnight Factory is a gritty, haunting and psychological dystopian thriller about addiction, complicity and the fragile rebellions we build with the people we refuse to abandon. Perfect for fans of Margaret Atwood, Suzanne Collins, and P.D. James.
‘Did you see the hanging?’
It was dark, and he narrowed his eyes in the glare of the strobe lights behind her. He paused, drawing vapour into his lungs before exhaling a rehearsed suspension. ‘Don’t think so.’ His voice was flat.
Anouk considered him for a moment. What was it with dealers? ‘Her head fucking came off, mate. It’s not like you could have missed it,’ she said through clenched teeth, swallowing the last word as her throat tightened. Tears gathered in her eyes. Why had she brought it up? Maybe to make conversation. No—the guilt. It just wouldn’t let go.
The dealer leant back, his head lightly touching the wall behind him. Someone had scrawled a cock and pair of balls where it came to rest. They stuck out from behind his left ear. ‘Sweet-Cheeks, I don’t do politics. You want the shimmer or not?’
Dickhead. People like him lived in a twilight world, and it dimmed their senses. Obscured by shadow and substance, so they didn’t have to feel anymore. The distaste was etched on her face.
He continued. ‘Look, we all do what we do to get by. You came to me?
‘Yeah, sure.’ She tasted her own hypocrisy as she slipped him cash from her palm. The notes wore worn and no longer in official circulation. A small paper packet glided from his hand to hers in its place.
Anouk turned, eyes lowered. She twisted her body around a mirror-clad pillar and caught a blurred glimpse of her own reflection. A crack running down the centre distorted her image, and she momentarily imagined the two faces staring at her. The music seemed louder now, mingling amongst a throbbing mass of bodies. Bursts of light exposed momentary gaps for her to exploit as she made her way towards her companions. They sat at a small table on the far side of the basement. She accidentally kicked a bottle lying in her path, which went spinning between moving feet. Anouk reached the table and slid down next to a young woman. They were both dressed in black. It was not an uncommon colour to wear among their kind. The woman was barely twenty. She grudgingly slouched along the bench to make space. Anouk didn’t notice. ‘You have it?’ The words slurred together.
‘It doesn’t work as well with alcohol. It would be an arsing waste on you,’ Anouk said.
‘Didn’t hear you complain when I gave you my share of the cash,’ the woman responded.
Anouk suppressed the rising tide of irritation. It was just the withdrawal. God, I can be such a bitch. Rookie mistake to team up with a stranger hanging around at the entrance, but she and Jimmy needed the money, and the woman was rattling badly. She was an easy target and had agreed to pay well above her fair share. ‘Jeez, I need a sprit,’ Anouk said aloud.
‘Pass it over then,’ Anouk’s friend sitting opposite said. His sandy-blond hair was visible as a silhouette in the flashing light. Although she couldn’t see his face, she knew it was kind. Troubled beyond his years, but kind. His hand moved across the table in anticipation, trembling. Anouk reached down into her pocket and slipped her fingers in to retrieve the packet she had placed there a few minutes before. Her jeans were too tight, and she raised herself slightly above the seat to reach further down. She pulled the packet out between two fingers and deposited it into his outstretched hand. ‘Jimmy?’
‘Yes?’
Anouk leant furtively towards him. Her movements were exaggerated, hinting at a more playful past. He leant forwards too.
‘Jimmy, remember: all that glitters is not gold,’ she whispered into his ear.
He said nothing. But as Anouk pulled away, settling back beside the young woman, she imagined an old smile on his lips. They had shared that joke ever since their first sprit of shimmer together. It was a rare moment of honest recognition. It made her feel normal again, in control—or at least provided the illusion.
Jimmy worked swiftly. He placed and opened a small clear bottle with a pipette on the table in front of him. He came prepared. It was three-quarters full with a simple saline solution. He tore the corner of the packet deftly apart with his teeth, and, despite his unsteady hand, he carefully emptied the contents into the bottle. It was too dark to see, but Anouk knew well the look of shimmer crystals settling, like glitter. He closed the bottle and held it tight in the palm of his hand.
‘Good thing it’s bloody hot in here. Should dissolve quicker.’ He meant this as reassurance. It had been a long while—at least since the previous evening—since any of the three had had a fix. The next track played; the opening ambient chords were unmistakable, followed by hardcore beats.
Kiss me dead, baby, you’re my inclination
Kill me softly, baby, I’m your dedication
Okay, so it was vintage. But who didn’t love it? A bit of electronic dance. Her dad would be pleased. She stopped there. Thinking of her father just before spritting up. What the fuck. She shook her head.
You’re my today-future, bittersweet tomorrow
You’re my every hour, panic-sown sorrow
Jimmy’s voice brought her back to the present. ‘All done. Who’ll do the honours?’
‘You first, Jimmy. No worries. The brewer gets to taste his brew,’ Anouk said.
Jimmy nodded his gratitude, and, after a brief shake of the bottle, unscrewed the pipette. Pinching and releasing the top, he pulled it out and raised it towards his head, tilted back. His hand was still trembling. The first drop missed the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek as though it were a tear.
I’m the one hurting, every minute hour
I’m the cause-victim, tasting life so sour
‘Well, that’s a waste!’ the moody young woman grumbled.
‘Shut it! Here, Jimmy, let’s give you a hand.’ Anouk rose and moved to sit beside him. She took the bottle and the pipette, then gently wiped the glistening trail from his cheek with the back of her hand. She loved him. Not a lover’s love: the tender love of friends who know each other deeply. Close friends through their reflected past—both alone in an unforgiving world. She placed the bottle on the sticky table, withdrew the now-full pipette, steadied Jimmy’s head by supporting his chin, then softly squeezed the rubber end. One drop fell to the corner of his eye, lingered for a moment, then dissolved under his eyelid.
‘Oh God!’ Jimmy sighed as he melted into the backrest. ‘Thank you, shimmer, glimmer, shine,’ he intoned, reciting the drug’s street names.
Anouk followed the ritual next. She held her breath as the drop fell and then, after the familiar slight sting of the saline solution and a rush of shooting warm light, all was good. She glided effortlessly under the drug’s spell—into shimmerfall—that moment of bliss when all earthly worries melted away.
You’re my master, hated, foul obsessed, enchanted
I’m in thrall, subjected, wrecked, possessed, disgusted
But bliss was a fragile thing…
In New Albion, the rise of extreme nationalism has led to the creation of a surveillance state, where any non-conforming citizen can be imprisoned or killed for any minor infraction, often just for existing. Under the motto "For Higher Virtue", the Bureau for Virtue and its red jacket employees patrol the streets to ensure everybody stays in line, regularly rounding up offenders to fulfil the state quotas. Illegal immigrants, members of the LGBTQ+ community and drug addicts are easy to target and blame for any societal problems.
For many people, the only escape is shimmer, a drug that produces euphoric bliss when dropped into the eye. For best friends Anouk and Jimmy, using shimmer, known as spritting, allows them to forget the loss of their loved ones, their awful family life, the constant control, and the grim, dark, rainy streets of their city. Anouk is tough and brutally honest where Jimmy is gentle and caring, and their bond runs deeper than friendship - they sprit together and try to survive together, sharing the burden of a bleak existence. When the Bureau for Virtue raids the night club where they are enjoying their latest fix of shimmer, Anouk is saved from capture through the intervention of an unusually vigilant drug dealer, while Jimmy is whisked away as a degenerate, his fate to be determined by the Bureau. A forced-labor facility would be the kindest choice, especially compared to the rumored horrors of the Midnight Factory.
The story is told at a masterful pace, with bits of worldbuilding slowly revealed as the characters move through their grim world. Anouk's mother is a deeply tragic character, reduced to a caricature by circumstances, and Jimmy's memories of his aunt hint at a long-forgotten world ground to dust by the awful societal changes. The double standards and alleged virtue of the Bureau are explored wonderfully through the brutal, cowardly and lecherous character of its Senior Superintendent Kilgore.
In this darkness, each revelation about the true nature of the world hits like a gut punch - the reality of the economy the government has encouraged and the role of the Resistance, who are themselves forced to be morally gray and do what they can, biding their time in a living nightmare. Worst of all are the nauseating horrors of the Midnight Factory itself, designed to push humanity to the brink. The truth about where shimmer comes from is sickening.
Anouk's first goal is to save Jimmy from the clutches of the Bureau, but as she discovers more about the forces that control her awful world, she has to choose between fighting insurmountable odds for a tiny bit of hope of seeing the light, or the blissful forgetfulness of shimmer. Loyalty and trust are rare and come at a cost, as the system has cruelly made it easier than ever to turn on the ones you care about to escape punishment. Jimmy's goal is to survive a reality that slowly extinguishes the light of his life, literally and figuratively.
The way the story plays with the concepts of darkness and light is absolutely haunting, and the vivid descriptions are gritty, visceral, stomach-turning at times - this dystopia feels more than political: it's intimate and creeps under the skin. The account of how the extreme nationalists came to power is bone-chilling in a way that hits way too close to home in the world we currently live in. In the midst of the horrors, loyalty, care and humanity shine through.