But, before that happens, I'll have released Jacob Smith is Incredibly Average. I just got my final proof back from the editor, and it's exciting to have it starting to feel like a real book. I'll let you know when to expect it to be released - should be next weekend that I'll send for a proof from Createspace, so my eta is end of September for a release.
Until then, here's a preview of the first chapter to whet your appetite for Jake's world. I hope you'll enjoy it.
Chapter One
Under Surveillance
The dark man sat in his car, frowning, although it was hard for him to have any facial expression other than a frown. He popped another sunflower seed into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
Surveillance, he knew, was always a boring activity. But no one had informed him just how boring it truly was.
He was watching a boy who lived in a house just like every other on this pathetic suburban street. The address was 592 Norwalk Street, Pflugerville, Texas, on this accursed planet Earth.
He hated it.
He hated how all the houses had a pitiful lone tree in the front yard. He hated how all the garages opened out to the street. He hated how the neighbors’ houses looked exactly the same except for their addresses. He hated how the mailboxes all looked the same. He hated how the grass was never green, no matter how much water everyone tried feeding the thirsty ground. And he especially hated how the boy was a bit of a loser, never doing anything really exciting or interesting.
But then again, that was why he was constantly in front of 592 Norwalk Street, watching him. Watching him day in and day out. For all thirteen years of his boring little life.
It wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs; his superiors knew that.
He grimaced with a hiss as the classical music radio station turned over to advertisements. He hated how humans always ruined a good concerto with something about a mattress sale.
And humans had such grating, annoying voices.
He flicked through the other stations he had marked, but they were either on commercials themselves or playing something else that hurt his ears.
He turned the radio off in disgust and sat back in his seat with a scowl, crossing his arms while continuing to frown.
Such a boring job.
After a while, his eyelids started drooping. There was no way for his superiors to know if he napped while watching the boy. And after all, he was only human. Or, alien, as was his case.
Suddenly, his communicator sprang to life with whistles and hums, announcing the imminent arrival of one of his superiors by short-range wormhole.
He jumped at the noise and grabbed the communicator—his commanding officer expected promptness, and a second too long was a second less than perfect.
He answered back, with his own series of lilting melodies.
There was no further response, which he knew just meant they were on their way.
He sat up, grabbed some fast food wrappers from the front seat of the car, threw them to back, covered them with his jacket, and stepped out of the car. He straightened his black uniform, re-buttoned the collar, and tried not to notice how much he was suddenly sweating.
The pressure in the air around his car dropped drastically. Despite himself, he shivered. He steeled himself for their arrival.
Turquoise lightning crackled through the air, drawing power from the overhead power lines. The lightning bulged near the car and a sphere formed. From it, a group of three black hooded figures landed lightly on the ground.
These new additions were dressed exactly the same as he. They were all bald and stood at exactly 6 feet 5.16 inches tall, even the female. None of them had a nose, just a smooth, slight bump where a nose should have been. Their eyes were milky white—the color of blindness—yet they had perfected their vision beyond human ability. They had no teeth, just lines of purple gums. But it was their tattoos that were really fascinating.
They each had equations outlined on every part of their body, complex equations that would stump even the most seasoned mathematician on Earth. Every single equation was solved. Not a square inch of their otherwise pale skin was left free of them. They also had tattoos for their body proportions—the better they were proportioned, the more they displayed those perfect proportions on their skin, like living mathematical diagrams.
He looked exactly like these newcomers, except with fewer tattoos and a less perfect face. That was the reason he was so lowly ranked—he wasn’t perfect enough to rank higher.
The female was the leader of the pack. Perfect in every conceivable way, she regarded him with a cold expression. He met her eyes, at first defiantly, but then felt himself wither under her gaze.
She asked him a quick question, to which he nodded. A slow smile came to her lips. She spoke to him some more, imparting the crucial information that their spy robot had gathered. Her companions stood stoically at her side, but his eyes widened.
He asked her if she was sure the spy robot had been correct. She seemed annoyed that he would even consider asking her such a question. He lowered his eyes in supplication.
She motioned to the soldier on her left, who handed her a small, flat, black object. She extended it out to him. The dark man paused briefly before taking it. This object contained information that could change everything for them. He could almost feel the power emanating from it. He was speechless at the thought of it.
She gave him a curt nod and in another blast of turquoise light, he was left standing there, alone in the dark.
This was it. This was the beginning.
See what happens in Jacob Smith is Incredibly Average, eta end of September!!
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