Swarm

By James Flynn

"Truly chilling, Flynn's stories will stick with you long after reading."—Matthew Hutton, The Scare Room Podcast

 

 

The town of Drachton is crumbling, with crime and violence perpetuating around the clock. Prisons are at bursting point, and morale is at an all-time low.

 

The government's answer is Swarm—a revolutionary prison unlike any other.

 

Swarm is a correctional facility that harnesses the power of the inmates' subconscious minds, siphoning the collective neural wisdom for the benefit of the town. The facility is a work of genius, and the town soon begins to prosper.

 

But how long will the prosperity last? When cutting-edge technology merges with humankind's ancient biological roots, what kind of monster will emerge?

 

Drawing ideas from deep psychology and modern neuroscience, James Flynn has created a dystopian, apocalyptic novella that pushes the boundaries of science fiction.

 

Swarm is essential reading for any serious sci-fi enthusiast. Are you ready to get plugged?

 

 

"Creepy and mystifying, Flynn's weird tales make for a disturbing late-night read."—Regina's Haunted Library

"As someone who reads in a multitude of genres, it was an absolute delight to discover author James Flynn and his art of storytelling. Many of his stories contain a blend of genres that made each story unique unto itself. Flynn has perfected the ability to snare you on the first page of the story, bringing you to the edge of your seat, heart pounding and keeping you perched there until you reach the end"—Lezlie Smith, The Nerdy Narrative

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Flynn
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201529222

James Flynn

James Flynn grew up in Kent, England.His ultimate dream as an author is to cause a reader to be confined to a mental institution and sectioned under the mental health act after reading one of his stories, although he admits that this is a bit optimistic.James's work has appeared in Black Petals Magazine, Yellow Mama Magazine, The Scare Room Podcast, Weird Mask Magazine, Sugar Spice Erotica Review and the short story anthology Local Haunts.Email signup: https://t.co/IQuABJ9EtaYouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCtYWfq6s8ArVJSrveNMQH3Q

Book preview

Swarm

James Flynn

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by James Flynn

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

For more information, email:  [e-mail]

James Flynn grew up in Kent, England.

He's taken on many different roles in his life so far: juvenile delinquent, car paint sprayer, soldier in the British Army, twenty-something delinquent, graffiti artist, lorry driver, part-time portrait painter, English teacher and, of course, author.

His ultimate dream as an author is to cause a reader to be confined to a mental institution and sectioned under the mental health act after reading one of his stories, although he admits that this is a bit optimistic.

James's work has appeared in Black Petals Magazine, Yellow Mama Magazine, The Scare Room Podcast, Weird Mask Magazine, Sugar Spice Erotica Review and the short story anthology Local Haunts.

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For Leila.

The best daughter I could ever wish for.

Contents

Phone Call

The Conference

Cattle to an Abattoir

New Assignment

Colourful Shapes and Digital Snakes

Impact on the Town

From the Academic Notes of Professor Mellish

Commercial Enterprise

From the Academic Notes of Professor Mellish

Tourist Attraction

From the Academic Notes of Professor Mellish

Carrack House

A Date with Death

Tackling Crime at the Root

Linguistic Rainfall

Freedom

Tidal Wave of Flesh

The Hospital Diary of Eric Trammel

Transcript of a Recording from Drachton News Network

The Hospital Diary of Eric Trammel

‘Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.’

Robert Oppenheimer

Preface

Whenever I look over the body of work that I’ve created so far, I always regard Swarm in a special light. The idea came to me after listening to a podcast one night about a phenomenon called swarm intelligence, and for five years after that it slowly matured over several edits like a fine wine.

It differs from my other stories because my appreciation for human evolution and the subconscious mind has been able to show its face and flourish like never before, creating a tale which sits in its own realm in terms of its character.

Like most of my other stories, however, it highlights the dark side of humanity rather than the bright side. This could mean that the human race is malignant and I’m observant enough to see it, or it could mean that I’ve simply got a sick mind and a love for all things macabre and catastrophic.

I’ll let you decide.

James Flynn

They brought the minds together into one

The wires, the screens, the bleeping, and the hum

A single unit, wisdom without bounds

Its influence reached far and all around

A pyramid, it was so grandiose

From the earth, its humongous body rose

At first the structure was a force for good

Until it grew, then sour went the mood

The folk were fighting, shouting night and day

The beast rose up, and flew into a rage

The town of Drachton raged from dusk till dawn

Behold the power of the mighty Swarm!

Phone Call

––––––––

A chorus of sirens echoed through the dusty streets, as several police cars raced towards the scene of another down town burglary. The cars sped past a cluster of high-rise apartment blocks that lined the main road, and high up in one of these buildings a silhouette was visible, set against a yellow light shining out from a window. A solitary man peered down towards the noise and chaos from his empty flat, his face still and expressionless against the glass. He was perched up against the window sill, unable to sleep through the racket, lost in a melancholy daze as the fighting and looting ravaged the neighbourhood for yet another night. The town of Drachton was coming apart at the seams, and the only things holding it together were the police units and riot patrols who incessantly sped through the blocks and alleyways in pursuit of the criminals.

Drachton’s problems were so severe that the local authorities were now hiring a private security company to assist the police in keeping law and order. GLC—a vast, renowned security organisation—had been given the job of assisting the local constabulary whenever things got out of hand, as well as running and managing the town’s prisons and correctional facilities. GLC were the real deal with many years of experience and financial backing, but Drachton was proving to be a tough gig even for them, and so the war continued to rage on night and day like a wild bush fire.

With the squad cars now out of sight and the wailing tones of the sirens fading off into the distance, the man peeled himself away from the window to go and make a drink. Eric Trammel had lived alone for five years now. His wife was killed a few streets away one evening after walking into a convenience store on the way home from work. The place was being held up by a group of small-time gangsters as she walked in, a bunch of petty thugs who didn’t know their ass from their elbow, and she caught a bullet in the head for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Eric had never truly recovered from the ordeal.

Appalled by the rising gang culture in his town and angered by the loss of his wife, Trammel had eventually joined GLC shortly after their arrival. As a junior member of staff he had very little power or authority, but nevertheless, his mission in life now was to do anything he could to make a difference. He may have been a small potato, but he was simply glad to be a part of the organized resistance, an extra pair of hands within the team of personnel fighting hard to get the town back in order.

Just as he was entering the kitchen to make a beverage a buzzing sound rose up from somewhere behind him. He turned, startled, feeling only mildly relieved when he saw that the noise was coming from his phone vibrating on the living room coffee table. It cut off before he could get to it, but the caller left a voice message:

Eric, it’s Clyde. Sorry to call you at this hour, but there’s going to be a meeting tomorrow morning at 09.00am in the main conference hall. An extremely important announcement is being made, and you’re required to be there.

Don’t be late.

Clyde McQuade; love him or hate him. Clyde was Eric’s senior manager at GLC. As a stout, authoritarian, balding man in his mid-fifties, he took shit from no one. He’d worked the wings of a few correctional facilities back in the day, but now he was more into barking orders at people from the other side of a wooden desk. His bark was usually worse than his bite, but still, if he was calling you outside of work hours it was clear that something mega was going down.

Placing the phone back down on the table, Eric stood there in the silence of his flat for a moment, wondering what this mystery announcement could’ve been about.

He would find out in due course.

The Conference

––––––––

The conference hall was full to the brim with GLC staff. Dozens of seats were aligned in neat rows, and the stage around the lectern had been swept and polished to a presentable state. A pull-down projector screen hung on the