Digital Extremities is a collection of short stories by Adam Bassett. Read the full blurb:
A collection of eight stories, Digital Extremities shines a spotlight on ordinary people in a callous yet hopeful future. Set across small towns and remote islands, where neon flickers against old buildings and oaks, this collection paints a unique view of a traditionally cyberpunk setting.
In 2089, a woman miscarries and seeks a way to find peace amidst overwhelming grief. Years later, a young man must find a way to pay rent outside of his job at the glassblowing studio. A pair of students, excited to go to college, install new hardware that promises to improve their cognitive functions. A private investigator searches for a missing child who has a reputation for embarking on risky adventures. Each tale is shaped by love, loss, and perseverance, weaving a vision of life outside of the megacities.
The book has already been reviewed by a couple of FFA reviewers! Tom Bookbeard called Digital Extremities “An intimate read that has so much to offer.” A.J. Calvin said “There’s a depth to the characters that really made this collection shine.”
This is a free excerpt from one of the stories, “36 Broadway Avenue.” In it, Alis and Léa are two friends who receive neural modifications to give them an edge in their careers. They’re both excited, ready to move out of their small hometown and begin their studies. However, things don’t quite go as planned.
Digital Extremities is available on Amazon, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Campfire on September 24, 2024. Additional content is available on Campfire, including behind-the-scenes commentary, exclusive art & maps, and an extra piece of flash fiction.
“36 Broadway Avenue”
The thing people forgot about mods was—in most cases—they only enhanced what a person could already do. Heatsinks helped miners withstand crushing temperatures as they burrowed into the Earth. Shock absorbers helped soldiers travel longer distances. Biocompressors could help the brain process information faster, if installed correctly. Of course, that was the case for any mod. Neural mods were hard to get, but if somebody could, they got them. Lately, a person needed something to set themselves apart. Outside the arts and Olympics, skill alone didn’t get anyone far. That was what Alis’ dad always said, at least.
Alis was having biocompressors installed the next day. She wondered, imagining the scalpel that would cut into her in less than twenty-four hours, if she should have gotten into painting instead. She had plenty of cozmod installations—a little body sculpting around her stomach and face, pink glow wire to illuminate her left arm and hand, with tinted eyes to match. However, none of those procedures had required anyone to dig through grey matter. Alis knew that she could call it off last minute. Her parents would be upset—Dad would be upset—but they’d get over it.
Her current situation convinced Alis otherwise.
Alis sat in the co-pilot’s seat of a small, single-engine plane. In the pilot’s seat, Uncle Briggs gripped the control stick. He tapped it with one of his metal fingers, keeping time with some beat that played only in his head. When he adjusted his control stick, another one in front of Alis moved in tandem.
She kept her hands in her pockets. Whenever Alis had her hands free, she tended to grab the stick. It wasn’t something she thought about, it just happened. Last time, Briggs said that he wouldn’t take her flying anymore if she did it again. Alis wasn’t sure how serious his threat was, but she erred on the side of caution: hands in pockets throughout the entire flight.
Uncle Briggs banked right, tracing a path over Lake Superior’s coastline. They passed over the Pic River, skirting past the Pukaskwa National Park. Alis knew that part of the country well. She’d spent most of her time near there, at home in the small town of Wawa. It was little more than a waystation for people traveling along the Trans-Canada Highway, except during tourist season. Alis had swum the lakes, walked the trails, hiked up half the mountains, and skied down the rest. This was her backyard. However, from the sky, during autumn, everything looked completely different. Myriad lakes dotted the land, their surfaces shining like shards of a broken mirror. Lake Superior stretched out like a sparkling blanket, so vast that it touched the horizon at its furthest point. The forest was so dense it was a muddy brown except where the sunlight touched, which made it shine in hues of gold, crimson, and orange. Even the pines became a vibrant, minty green.
This was why Alis was getting biocompressors. She would have been more anxious about the installation if she were getting it alone. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Léa was getting hers at the same time. Her best friend insisted on doing it with her after she found out Alis was having them installed. If something went wrong, at least they would go through it together.
“Alis,” Uncle Briggs said, his voice coming through Alis’ headset, “you want to take control for a sec?”
Alis blinked. “Yes,” she said. Her heart raced, and her mouth dried. She was suddenly aware of her hands and how sweaty they felt. Had they been like that the whole time? She wiped them off on her jeans, but they still felt damp. She wiped harder.
Briggs laughed. “Relax. You’re not landing, or anything. Just keep us level and follow the coastline. You know how to steer?”
“Rudder pedals.”
“Just the pedals closest to you. And gentle movements only. And be careful with the stick. You shouldn’t need to pitch or roll the boat at all.”
She nodded.
“Do I need to hardwire?”
“No,” Briggs said. He gestured at the wire coming from a mod in his wrist, plugged into the plane’s console. “This old thing doesn’t give me any info you can’t already see on the screens in front of you. Tub’s too old for a direct connection to mean much. Can’t even get a proper connection to the Net from here, but that’s part of why I like it.”
“Right, okay.”
“Good. You ready?”
No. “Yes,” Alis said.
“Grab hold of the stick.”
Alis gripped the control stick. As she did, the wiring under her left arm illuminated the cabin in a soft pink glow. Uncle Briggs grunted at it but said nothing. The plane’s two control sticks moved in tandem. She could feel Briggs’ grip on his through the one in her hands—his slight adjustments and imprecise motor functions. The trim was correcting his flight path, keeping the craft stabilized. As he banked slightly to the left, she felt the control stick in her hand shift with his. It was like he was handing off a baton. Every movement amplified.
Then, nothing. No sense that he was there at all. It was just Alis and the plane. The engine shook the craft, sending vibrations through her hands and arms and resonating in her chest. Its dull roar seeped through the cups of her headset.
“You let go,” she said.
“I did,” Briggs said. His words came like a laugh. “What did you think I was going to do?”
Alis shrugged, and the plane began to roll left. She shouted and pulled the control stick to the right, but the landscape below didn’t look right. Alis checked the compass and realized that she’d put them on a path south, soaring toward Michigan.
“Level out and bank left,” Briggs said. “Gently. You just over-corrected yourself, not a big deal. Good. You’re doing fine. Just breathe, relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax.”
Alis kept the control stick steady and pressed the left rudder pedal. The world shifted underneath her again, and she slowly returned to the Pukaskwa’s golden-green forests. She checked the flight display. Alis wasn’t entirely sure what everything on it meant, but she recognized a few of the gauges from flight simulators and videos of pilots flying. The plane was level, and it was at about the same altitude as before Briggs handed her control. Most of that was probably thanks to the plane correcting her mistakes, but it did that for her uncle, as well.
“I figured it’d be good to see what this feels like before the doc messes with your head tomorrow,” Briggs said. “Is this everything you hoped it would be?”
“I’m flying,” she whispered.
Her uncle laughed. “Yeah, you are.”
The plane bobbed, as if she’d hit a speed bump. She instinctively gripped the control stick tighter, but wasn’t sure what to do next.
Uncle Briggs took his control stick back into his hands. She felt him grab it through hers—like they were holding hands through the engine again.
“Let go,” he instructed.
She did as she was instructed and the plane leveled out.
“Just a little turbulence. It happens, especially at this altitude. Don’t worry about it. You did well.”
Alis glanced away from him, smiling as she returned her hands back to her pockets.
“Thanks,” she said.
Pre-Order Digital Extremities
Read the rest of “36 Broadway Avenue” and see Digital Extremities’ vision of the future by pre-ordering the book! Grab it at any of the storefronts listed below.
Amazon | Apple Books | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Campfire (The Campfire version contains bonus content & artwork)
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