Title: Limantour
Synopsis:
Limantour is a dystopian coming of age tale of a man who is in a race against time to save a distant planet inhabited with a primitive race of people. Meanwhile his brother is scheming to turn the new world into a profitable venture regardless of a cataclysmic outcome.
The plot is a series of twists and turns, dense with elaborate, fun illustrations of a futuristic world as well as a fantastic
and surreal planet coming from the mind of award winning writer, illustrator, Winthrop Prince.
Chapter 1:
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Standing on the footbridge overlooking the city, I mulled over the past week's events. I'd reconnected with my father, who I hadn't seen since I was a boy — and then suddenly he’d gone missing. Very bewildering. And then there was a collection agency, a group of ruffs called the Killboys, who were hunting for me with ill intent. I didn’t have their money and they were not kindly folk. Both were weighing on my mind when I looked up and saw eight large men approaching. On one hand, I was flattered that my reputation as a street fighter warranted over half a dozen Killboys. On the other, I would have preferred negotiating with cash.
It happened like this.
“Look, I don’t have the money on me but if you wait here I’ll go get it,” I said.
One Killboy says, “Fine. Just leave us your teeth as collateral.” Nobody laughed.
So I said, “I get it, emotions are running high. Let’s sort this whole thing out in a few days when our judgment isn’t clouded.”
He thought about it. “And you’ll bring the money?”
“Naturally ... Though, here’s a thought,” I said trying to slow down the energy a bit. “Your boss’s feelings are hurt because I betrayed his trust, right?”
“Yeah,” the Killboy says, “and now he wants us to hurt your feelings.”
One of his buddies guffawed at that.
“Right! And now we’re caught in this vicious circle and it’s all about money,” I said, trying to gauge the correct tone to endear myself ever so slightly to these killers, “Let’s say we take a stand on principle. What’s the going rate for betraying a sacred bond with your fellow man? I’ll double it.”
He shifted his weight. “Nah, don’t bother. I’m prone to violence. I’d hurt you for free.”
Then the talking was over.
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You know, I was doing all right until that big guy stepped up.
Then someone in the scuffle jabbed me with a needle. The ground turned to sludge beneath me and it wasn’t a minute before I was paralyzed head to foot. With my eyes locked open, I couldn’t escape his grin.
They carried me down along the footbridge toward the Amuseum and joked about throwing me off. But their final destination was the Manikin Shoot, where people gunsling on life-like bodies for fun. While customers reloaded, the Killboys carried me onto the field and made a mark of me.
Strung up and unable to move, shout, or cry out my insides rioted—for time, for mercy. Meanwhile the chatter, laughter, and gun-cocking of teenagers impatient to blast the heads off of plastic people rattled on.
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Chapter 2
Just as the firing started, a loud buzzer set off. All was quiet. Turns out some woman had pushed the alarm bell. On the newscast that night, she said, “I just had him in reticules, you know, and thought, ‘There’s something off with this one,’ you know?”
Yeah, I know.
Some employees carried me off the field like a sack of dirty laundry and dumped me right in front of her. Brunette. Slight. Pretty young. Pretty pretty. I stared up at her stupidly.
My tongue weighed 10 pounds, despite how desperately I wanted to explain that hanging around with dummies and being shot at wasn’t my normal routine.
“You know, I’ve never shot a gun before,” she offered. “My boyfriend wanted me to come down here, but he was late. I was pretending I had him in my sight, if you catch my meaning.” She laughed to herself and looked away. “Lucky for you, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and needed a scope.
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Angel of mercy! When my mouth thawed out, I was going to impress her. “Thank you,” I’d say, before offering up a list of my sterling qualities: “I wrote a poem one time. I like animals. They’re like little people who are honest. I’m frequently loyal. And Extremely flexible. One minute I have steely resolve, the next I’m swept along in a crowd with the inane beliefs!”
Maybe better that I was mute.
The less I said, the more familiar she looked. Perhaps a famous person in the media? The recognition was vague. Eventually, I managed to coordinate a garbled gratitude.
“You saved my life.” It was a start.
“How on earth did you end up here?”
“Well,” I averted my eyes, “I borrowed money from some very ... ungood characters, and then couldn’t pay them back.”
“Why did you borrow money?”
I guess she had the right to pry as she’d just pried me out of my grave.
Given I was already on my knees before her, I decided to bare my soul. “I’m sort of addicted to the Stimmies.” Bracing myself for her response, I stuck my toe into the sand. Maybe my head would be next.
“Well, have you ever gone to the support groups?” she said. There was compassion in her voice. “They help a lot of people get back on track. Actually, my father was … ”
Then it came to me! She was my half-sister, Trefethen. We’d never met but I’d seen pictures.
As sure as I was, it’s best to get a second opinion. “Is your name Trefethen?”
“Y-y-yes,” she said, warily.
“Tref, it’s me. Zazz.”
“Zazzex!” she cried out, and lifted me onto my feet. I was like a foal. “Oh my God! Zazz! Daddy said he’d found you! God, really, how are you?”
“Well, I’m alive,” I offered, “thanks to you, of course.”
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She put her hand to her forehead and smiled. “Oh, right. Ha.” Then her face shifted, she became serious. “Wait, have you seen Daddy lately?”
“Uh, I saw him about a week ago coming out of a Stimmy. Looked like he was on a binge, he was kind of incoherent …”
Trefethen watched the bursting mannequin heads and waited for the gunfire to abate. “I knew he’d started using again, but he always came home at night. He’s still missing.” Then she paused, and looked at me. “Zaz, I’m afraid for him. I think he’s been kidnapped.”
Why would anyone want to kidnap him? Trefethen must have read the question on my face.
“I’ve got to tell someone, I’m going crazy,” she said. “But not here.”
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“So, a few months ago he told me he’d found this ancient book. And he said it revealed the location of an inhabitable planet called Limantour, which apparently is accessible. But, thing is … the book prophesized that it would self destruct.”
Trefethen looked at me. I stared back. Echoing barkers pitched their appeals from the Amuseum booths as we passed them. People ambled by, laughing at nothing.
“So?”
“So? So it would self destruct soon,” she repeated, and then flicked her eyes towards me, “unless someone could save it.”
I thought back to seeing Dad on the street that day, his harried face, his frenetic vibe. “He did mutter something about saving the world,” I said, “but I thought he meant this one.”
“How?”
“Well, that’s all, really,” I said, and she huffed loudly, slapping her hands on the table. “I mean, Trefethen, really. He’s clearly not sober any more. He was coming undone!”
She was indignant. “And that’s all he said? Really. He didn’t even say where the book is?”
“Trefethen, he didn’t mention a goddamned book,” I said, raising my voice.
“Zaz, this is not a crazy man’s ramblings. There are people who would profit from a new planet.” She looked at me. “And they’re not the right kind of people.”
We stared each other down for a minute, before something clicked. I understood her fear. “Does Ravick know about the book?” Ravick was our crazy older brother, type A and dangerous.
“No, I don’t think so, not yet. He and Daddy aren’t on the best of terms. But he’s been acting strange lately.”
“Strange how?”
“Like,” Trefethen thought about it. “You know, it’s just weird. He’s been calling a lot. All of a sudden he’s super ‘concerned’ about ‘Dad’ going missing, when they’ve never been very close.” She punctuated the words with air quotes.
“I wouldn’t tell him about the book,” I said.
“No shit, Zazzex,” she bit, before softening. “But he might know already, you know?”
“How can we find out?”
“There’s a concert tonight at the auditorium and I’m supposed meet him there before the show to update him.”
A chill slithered up my spine. “Ravick owns the auditorium, doesn’t he?”
She nodded. “I’m scared, Zazz.” Trefethen l tucked her fingers into my clenched fists. Her eyes scanned my face, looking for our father.
“Let’s go.”