Dear Super Villain,
Implanted shortly after birth with a device that tracks her every word and move, Rynn 713 has learned to live a life of quiet rebellion. A Seller in the day, but a Cyber Hacker in the shadows, she is content with meaningless hacks for the best coffee and latest hairstyles, hiding behind stacks of illegal books and movies, and longing for the Book Seller next door, whom she can never have.
But when her friend and the disabled daughter she has been hiding away are brutally executed because of Rynn’s careless mistake, she can no longer blind herself to reality. And when the Seller’s District is raided and all their treasons are exposed, she and the Book Seller are faced with a choice: run, fight, or die. But how do you run when they know everything you say and everywhere you go? And how do you fight when the only weapon you have is a computer? In one move, Rynn is hurtled into an underground world where hope and passion are the only ways to survive and hacking is the only route to freedom.
CORRUPTED is a YA cyberpunk with a heavy dash of romance. It is complete at 77,000 words. Thank you for your time and I look forward to hearing from you.
Brianna R. Shrum
First Page of Corrupted
The tracker in my forearm began to beep at 3 a.m., yanking me from a peaceful sleep. I stared at it for a moment, wondering whether the GPS or microphone had prompted the warning. When the words, “…the gunpowder, treason, and plot…” came fuzzily through the television, I concluded it was not a malfunctioning GPS and panicked, leaping from my broken down couch to turn off the television. ‘How did it unmute?’ I wondered, frantically searching for someone besides myself to blame. My eyes came to rest on the loathsome remote, which I had apparently fallen asleep on, forcing the volume to rocket out of control. I never watched television…edit- interesting television… with the volume on, but chose to read subtitles, because any buzzword repeated too many times would undoubtedly trigger an inquiry and a Screener to monitor me for days, until The State realized I wasn’t a threat. Or worse, it could trigger a full-fledged investigation. If my house was raided, I would be dead in a heartbeat.
My heart stopped in my chest as, seconds later, my door was assaulted by heavy knocking. It seemed that someone had wrenched the oxygen from the room. This was it. I was going to die. The Enforcers would come in, find my stash of contraband, and shoot me on the spot…if I was lucky. My heart pounded against my ribcage relentlessly. It felt like little razors lined the inside of my throat, drawing blood with every ragged breath. I shakily climbed the steps to the main level, covering the opening to my hidden room with a floor tile and a rug, in case the Enforcers at my door were less than thorough. The barrage on my front door continued, and I stopped for a moment at the entry, took a gasp of air, and opened it.