Near future Great Britain is on the brink of collapse. Mass riots. Economic meltdown. Blackouts. And a new oil war in Iraq to keep the world economy afloat.
Iraq War veteran and war crimes whistleblower David Ariel is sick of violence, and trying to make ends meet working for Specialist Protection. But after Prime Minister Carson is brutally assassinated by extremists on Ariel’s watch, he is covertly targeted by a compromised police investigation.
When forensics discover that Carson’s assassination inexplicably defied the very laws of physics, bodies drop like flies as key witnesses are murdered in impossible circumstances.
Fleeing for his life while London is locked-down under martial law, Ariel gets a phone call from Iraq he will never forget. His estranged girlfriend, journalist Julia Stephenson, warns that the Carson killing is just the beginning of a wider plot to bring the West to its knees. Then she disappears.
Ariel’s blood-soaked race against time to track the terror cells behind Carson’s death tumbles into the cross-fire of a hidden battle between mysterious rogue intelligence agencies. The goal: to monopolise black budget technologies which could unlock the universe’s darkest, arcane secrets.
As the world he thought he knew unravels, Ariel faces off against bent coppers, double-crossing agents, psychic killers and super soldiers to complete a black ops mission like no other: stop Quantum Apocalypse.
About The Author:
Nafeez Ahmed is a bestselling author, investigative journalist, and international security academic. He writes for The Guardian via his Earth Insight blog, reporting on the geopolitics of interconnected environmental, energy and economic crises. The author of five critically-acclaimed non-fiction works addressing humanity’s biggest global challenges, Nafeez’s forthcoming book is a science fiction thriller, ZERO POINT, due out 18th August 2014.
Nafeez has also written for the Independent on Sunday, The Independent, The Scotsman, Sydney Morning Herald, The Age, Huffington Post, New Statesman, Prospect Magazine, Le Monde Diplomatique, among many others. He has been a talking head for BBC News 24, BBC World News with George Alagiah, BBC Radio Five Live, BBC Radio Four, BBC World Today, BBC Asian Network, Channel 4, Sky News, C-SPAN Book TV, CNN, FOX News, Bloomberg, PBS Foreign Exchange, Al-Jazeera English, Press TV, Islam Channel and hundreds of other radio and TV shows in the USA, UK, and Europe.
Nafeez is also cited and reviewed in the Sunday Times, Times Higher Educational Supplement, New York Times, The Independent, Independent on Sunday, The Observer, Guardian, Big Issue Magazine, Vanity Fair, among others.
I opened the door. It led to another corridor, narrower than the last, but still stark white, with a door at the end.
I hurried down to the other end, then opened the next door. It opened into what looked like some kind of observation room. Low, sleek control panels potted with dials, buttons, and wires lined three walls. In the middle wall was a huge window onto another room, also completely white, but with a huge, bell-shaped metallic formation set in the centre, supported by a steel lattice henge-like structure. Across the lower rim of the bell formation was a string of peculiar symbols. They reminded me of hieroglyphics, except without pictures―just dots and lines.
Two people, a man and a woman, both wearing white coats, were standing at the control panels and watching intently. They hadn’t noticed me.
Then the bell formation began spinning. Within a minute, it was spinning so fast it was glowing with heat and light. There was a faint hum in the air, and the atmosphere suddenly felt somehow thicker, heavier, and pregnant with static. I could taste a faint but distinct metallic flavour on my tongue.
The bell rose into the air. There were no pulleys or wires suspending it. It was levitating.
I watched spellbound as I heard the man tell the woman, presumably his assistant, “Increase clockwise rotation of the outer shell to 80,000 rpm, and the counter-rotation of the inner core to the same speed.”
“Yes, Professor,” said the woman, turning a dial on the control panel nearest her.
The bell levitated higher and flashed brighter. In a second, a bright white light filled the room, and the metallic taste in my mouth became strong and bitter.
Then I noticed that the cube in my fist had grown cold, a peculiar deep ice cold that, nevertheless, inexplicably wasn’t uncomfortable. I held it up to my face, opening my fist to gaze at it while nestled in my palm.
Amidst the stunning pure white light in which I was immersed, the stark blackness of the cube broke the continuum like a sharp-edged black hole. Its darkness absorbed my gaze, as if beckoning me into its unknown depths.
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