Guest Post and Excerpt: Machines of the Little People (The Eve Project, book 1) by Tegon Maus

Published: April 22nd, 2014

Description:

Ben Harris’s sister died of cervical cancer more than three years ago… his best friend and her husband, Roger Keswick, disappeared the day before the funeral. For the next six months everyone from the local police to the Department of Defense searched for him but to no avail… it was as if he had simply fallen off the face of the planet only to reappear at work as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

Then by the purest of coincidences Ben finds himself pulled back into Roger’s life only to discover he has remarried… to Jessica… a woman the looks, sounds and acts just like his dead sister. To complicate things Roger is insistent his home, his car, his life is infested with tiny elf like creatures he calls the Katoy. He claims they run massive machines under his house and watch his every move… every move that is until Jessica is found bludgeoned to death in his living room and Roger is nowhere to found . . . again.

GUEST POST

As a rule, I try not to read too much while I’m developing a story. I don’t want to write a great idea only to discover it’s part of something I read two days before… you would think you could keep track of something like that but you can’t or that is to say I can’t. When I write I see the pictures in my head like watching a movie. I see, hear, smell, everything that plays on my mental screen and I write down as it passes by. 

The first I read that really affected me was Isaac Asimov… His stories ‘I Robot ‘ set my mind on fire with the possibilities. I studied everything I could get my hands on that had to do with robotics. I even applied for a job with Disney for the chance to work with their robots, great, great stuff. 

Once you read Asimov you have no choice… you have to read Robert Heinlein… it’s an overriding rule like gravity you absolutely have to. If Stranger in a Strange Land doesn’t screw with your head nothing will. 

Then with the two greats in your head you start to jump around and read anyone with Sci-Fi chops… anyone. 

The best, one of the first in the field, is E.E. Doc Smith. He wrote the Skylark Series in the 20’s and The Lens Men series in 1939. He wrote about big heroes with big problems… intergalactic drug rings, deep space travel and speedsters that travel in a blink of an eye. He wrote about the genetics of his heros He was a great man and was way ahead of his time. He is credited with being the father of the Space Opera making all those that came after possible. I would have been exceptionally luck to hold the man’s coat while he tied his shoes.

 EXCERPT 

"When Roger and I first met, he was unbelievably attentive and charming. He did little magic tricks, sleight of hand, to make me laugh.  He spoke of wondrous things so far over my head it took my breath away. It was like he spoke another language. He told me about his inventions and designs for machines the likes of which have never been seen before. We talked about the future, two futures really; one sounded like heaven and the other seemed unimaginable. I thought he was teasing me, flirting with me with his brilliance." Jessica said softly. "Now, I'm afraid I only resemble someone he once loved."

I understood how she felt. Her words touched me far deeper than I cared to admit. This went on far longer than I expected. It was the push I needed to see for myself what was in the tree and who Roger was talking to.

"I'll go," I said softly.

"No. Just watch a moment," Jessica said. She crossed the room, shutting off the lights before returning to the sink. We waited for our eyes to adjust. Roger walked around the tree, first in one direction and then in the other as Tilley continued to sit up and beg.

The light he carried flashed into the window and then in and out of the upper branches of the tree.

Slowly, silently, Jessica leaned forward and slid open the window.

It took a moment for Roger to come around to our side of the tree so we could hear him.

"Yes, I agree. He's here now." He spoke hoarsely at the tree, trying not to be too loud. "No. I won't. He's not ready. He wouldn't understand."

"Who's he talking about?" Audry whispered.

"More importantly, who's he talking to?" I added.

"Shush, just watch," Jessica whispered 

Roger wandered around the tree once more before returning to the same spot.

We waited.

 From somewhere in the yard, or maybe the house, a low dull drone began. Barely audible, it seemed to vibrate the floor before I actually heard it, like a washing machine on spin in another room. The tone deepened until it seemed to be coming from the center of my chest.

Outside Roger threw his arms wide and yelled, "Hit me, Bob."

Suddenly, a thin beam of bright blue light appeared, a laser for lack of a better description, from somewhere in the upper part of the tree. He arched his back, standing on his toes as if lifted by the light. It struck him dead center in his chest, holding him there for a moment or two.

"Oh, Momma," he cried with excitement and the light vanished. He crumpled to the ground on his hands and knees…  laughing like a madman.

"That's the fourth time. I've asked, but he won't tell me," Jessica said flatly and crossed the room to turn the light back on. "You ask him, Ben."

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About the author:

I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else... devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure. Not that I wasn't friendly, I just wasn't "people orientated". Maybe I lived in my head way more than I should have, maybe not. I liked machines more than people, at least I did until I met my wife.

The first thing I can remember writing was for her. For the life of me I can't remember what it was about... something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years after inventing games and prototypes for a variety of ideas before I got back to writing.

It wasn't a deliberate conscious thought, it was more of a stepping stone. My wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. "Be as detailed as you can," we were told.

I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it's making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an out right lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn't be sure if it were true or not. When I write, I always write with the effort of "it could happen" very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.

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