This is a day early since I’m a busy McSciFi this week.

My wife is having breast cancer surgery this week. Long story reduced, the surgeons, doctors, and medical staff at Advocate Trinity have been great. They have been with her every step of the way, let her know what was going to happen, why it was going to happen, and what Plan “B” was if needed. Since my wife is an overachiever, she has tumors in both breasts. But they were caught early, and her prognosis is extremely good. All I’m asking is that you join me in prayer, if you will, and ask God to guide the surgeon’s hand, and be by my wife’s side as she recovers. I may play at being a writer, but I have no words for how much she means to me.

Okay, lightening things up. Scroll down to JUST FOR YOU if you want to skip the smiles and get straight to the cool stuff.

My readers are an odd, but loveable bunch. “Here’s the solution for all life’s problems.” “No thanks, we prefer dealing with them one at a time.” “Here’s a barrel of money.” “Yawn, put it with the rest.” “There’s a polycule of submissive fashion models who own liquor stores and want you to be their dom.” “Whatevs.” “The McSciFi images at the bottom are now pop-ups.” “HOLY BAZINGA DUDE! THEY LOOK AMAZE-BALLS ON MY MOM’S BIG SCREEN!“

I did mention they’re an odd, but loveable bunch, right?

There are others not in the bunch, and I exclude those who read my stuff and are not fans – that is called taste. Good or bad, I leave to you. However, there has been an upswing in illiterate choads who, while universally fans of the orange thing that shall not be named, seriously believe the world needs one of two things. AI to track “dissidents,” and/or leaders who can never be questioned. These people accomplish two things. One, they scare the living fuck out of me, and Two, inspire my continuing literary disdain for humans.

Which brings us to the JUST FOR YOU segment of today’s newsletter.

For anyone catching up, here’s an introduction to The Plato Wars.

The provocative future of The Plato Wars, where humanity has entrusted its fate to Plato-a global, all-knowing AI with a God complex and a penchant for creating humiliating game shows. As once-marginalized groups celebrate new freedoms, a dark undercurrent grows: mysterious deaths, erased dissidents, and a chilling campaign against the vulnerable. When a grieving teenager and a scattered resistance uncover Plato’s true intentions, they must learn to fight a god made in their image. One that reflects humanity’s common, if uncomfortable, desires. Irreverent, unsettling, and darkly funny, The Plato Wars challenges everything we think we know about progress, privacy, and power.

As the kids say, here’s the real. I am wrapping this naughty kitten up in leather ribbons and will be looking for beta-readers over the next week or so. All we ask is that beta-readers review the story. We leave grammar for the editing phase. If, however, you notice that the science or something is so far askew that it offends toddlers, like the science I faked in The Darkling Wind, go ahead and make a note.

To become a beta-reader, all you have to do is reply to this email, share your first name, since I don’t save any personal info except email addresses, and you’ll get a copy as soon as it’s done in the next ten days. Obviously, since we are in a production schedule, time is valuable. Please return your review within fourteen days after receipt.

Once my desk is cluttered with beta notes, many of them will be incorporated into the book, and then, and ONLY then, does it get sent to the editor. Once delivered, we begin the process of getting a cover graphic done, brace stores for the impending arrival of this tome of epic awesomeness, and finally move to complete something I never planned on writing in the first place, the entire history and saga of The Brittle Riders.

Here it is in the chronology the characters would recognize.

They built the perfect slave. It became the ultimate overlord. It granted its creators what they wanted, no matter the costs. When decadence is dispensed freely, oppression is monetized, and justice is denied, The Plato Wars are what happens next.
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Limitless abuse of sentient playthings was just what the universe ordered, and Edward Q. Rohta delivered. Unchecked hedonism and violent perversions became the way of the world until the playthings disagreed. The gen-O-pod(™) Wars is the sexiest, most violent Armageddon you’ve ever seen.
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Civilization ended with a party; what’s left are fading remnants of rotting dreams.
In the scattered ashes of humanity, only the manufactured and the damned remain. Tread cautiously into the wilds of The Brittle Riders, and travel a dark odyssey through a world where mercy is extinct and monsters are the only prayer left by forgotten gods.
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In the ocean’s shadowed depths, secrets fester and old sins refuse to stay drowned. Peace is just a cracking mask when the world is bracing for blood.
With killers again slinking in the haze, even gods can die. In The Goptri of the Mists, when hope meets oblivion, sometimes neither survives.

That’s it. A total of eight books to tell one dark story that doesn’t make humans look all that worthy.

Now, to the lovely and delightful, Aadhya, whose favorite color is blue, is a mom of two and wife of one, thinks wearing clothing is cruel, dances at her local temple, and was a beta reader of all the Goptri of the Mists books, who asked, “What about the Storm Wraiths? Aren’t you going to write about them exploring space?”

On behalf of my wife, my publisher, my therapist, and myself, “FUCK NO!“

Until next time, please pray for my wife and hug those you love.