A little steampunk anyone?

Our next Hydra book is Reality Check, which is a dimension-hopping science fiction / steampunk adventure by Eric Garrison.

The talented author is taking us for a little adventure outside of our world!

Information on the book, including the book trailer, Amazon link, can be found here:

http://sillyhatbooks.com/fiction/reality-check/

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This game was beyond immersive. I kept forgetting that it was only a game. I actually cared about these simulated people. The Q-T really must have learned a lot about the human experience, to create all this.

Come to think about it, how did Q-T know what creek water shouldtaste like? How'd it understand pain enough to make me feel it? I'd only been here a little while, and I'd hit highs and lows beyond all my years of experience in the real world.

I found strength returning to me, my breathing slowing and my head clearing. I sat up, and when that worked out well, I made a careful effort to stand. I was impressed with my success. Small victories are still victories.

I saw the column of smoke emitting from a stand of trees not far away, so for lack of any better ideas, I clawed up the bank and out onto some scraggly grass. I kept my pace slow and easy, nursing aches and deep bruises I didn't realize I had. My upper arm had swollen to cantaloupe size from the whack the spinning wing had given it. My poor shin screamed with every step. I didn't even want to check my head for bumps. I could already feel the throbbing.

Maybe that nap wouldn't have been a good idea after all. Staying awake, in case of concussion, seemed like the best thing.

I limped along toward the smoking wreck of my plane. The fuselage was now a frail metal skeleton enclosing black, twisted pipes and tanks that used to be the rocket engines. No trace remained of the wings. The smoke slackened its pace as all the wood and most of the fuel had been consumed. The heat coming from the wreck made it too difficult to approach very close. The trees on all sides had blackened trunks and stank of chemical residue from the burnt fuel.

I heard chittering and turned around. I couldn't believe my eyes. It had started life as a squirrel. It was missing fur in great patches, exposing greyish skin. The thing wore, or had implanted, a steel cap from which wires ran. The wires extended along its four limbs and partway down its bare, rat-like tail, strapped on with metal bands that reminded me of hose clamps.

Its eyes glowed red, and it stared at me, twitching with random jerks, like a cartoon robot.

What the hell is that? Franken-squirrel?

It raised its head and lowered it, panning its nasty, creepy little eyes back and forth, reminding me of an old document scanner.

Was it scanning me?

I decided nothing good could come from being scanned by a cybernetic zombie squirrel.