Futurismic has opened its fiction year with a new story of mine, "R.P.M.," which the editors pitch as "a near-future post-mediapocalyptic mind-bender about celebrity, freedom, America and meaning." Check it out.
I wake to the sound of vintage Hall & Oates blasting at me so loudly I can feel the waves pound my flesh, each beat an aural tsunami.
Private Eyes. The synth-drum feels like it’s being played on my head with a rubber mallet.
I emit a screaming yawn, squinting my eyes open into the bright lights.
Which lights silhouette a sarcastically dancing policeman. Adding his own voice the chorus.
They’re watching you.