The Behemoth Legalis MindHack

By Jack Calverley

In this science fiction short story the split personality of P D R Buchanan struggles to unify when two large warring corporates and their resourceful AIs stand against him.

 

A sample short story from the collection "Proud New Monkey, UITSU & more..." by the same author.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Logic of Dreams
• Release date: Jun 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227197634

Book preview

The Behemoth Legalis MindHack by Jack Calverley

THE BEHEMOTH LEGALIS MINDHACK

by

Jack Calverley

A Chapbook from The Logic of Dreams

THIS SHORT STORY appears in the collection PROUD NEW MONKEY, UITSU & More... by the same author.

The Behemoth Legalis MindHack, an SF short story

First eBook edition. June 2024.

© 2024, Jack Calverley. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This chapbook is published by The Logic of Dreams

Requests to publish work from this book should be sent to:

[e-mail]

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and situations are fictional.

Cover art, book design and illustrations by Jack Calverley.

Photography by Kumiko Shimizu from www.unsplash.com.

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www.jackcalverley.com

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THIS STORY APPEARS in the collection PROUD NEW MONKEY, UITSU & More... by the same author.

THE BEHEMOTH LEGALIS MINDHACK

Jack Calverley

∞

TO SOME, PRE-SILICON was a period of history, to others it was a term of abuse; for some it meant optimism, an ache for revolution, a return to a more human age. For P. D. R. Buchanan it meant a bitter lesson in power. Ultimately it was just a word, a sound, a vague concept that had a certain resonance.

Is there anything else you require, sir? The words echoed brightly off the red marble walls.

Call me J, said P. D. R. Buchanan. He handed his dun-coloured duffel coat, which was worn to the point of being limp, to the concierge-in-chief. "Everyone calls me J. Without exception. I do not respond to any other moniker. That’s all