JETHRO’S FALL is a novel, the story of two polar opposite brothers in a post-apocalyptic city, striving to hang onto what humanity they have left while fighting Biotic racism, corporate lies, and the fallacy at the heart of it all.
Jethro lives in a dystopic future city where the only choice for happiness and a baby mansion is to follow the corporate ladder to the top. After 5 years in the Tower he realizes the ladder is a lie, and decides to get out while he still can, but his Biotic brother, his racist friends, and a mysterious woman named Jo are not going to let him leave that easily.
Dancing on the desert sands of the ocean floor shooting buildings scream into rubble by my feet. Trembling brick and mortar scurry down to the golden dunes, cascading like a perfect glass and steel waterfall, thudding into spume on every side. Roads I walked and parks I sat in fall through the mist, obliterated as unseeable flame tears the air in two with screaming fury. Booming echoes in my ears, and as the drifting sands clear away, I see several things that are bad. My city has fallen around me. The Towers are down and the glass is all shattered. Broken shards.
Worse though. My dancers, dancing just for me as I watch from the safety of my whale, gliding over the forests of time gone by and oceans where there aren’t anymore oceans but the deserts of sand. The dancers who tapped so gaily from the doors to their dancehall and drank the air and breathed the water, swinging in happiness to the innocent music. Drunk and dirty in the sins of pleasure, their palaces fall around them.
The dance is over, because the dancers are gone. Dust swarms the air, and dunes build up over the remnants of the city I lived in. Fluttering lamps and pennants bluster and die under the tornado of raking sand. Peering through these curtains I think I can see something. Something grey and indistinct, fuzzy round the edges but it doesn’t seem to have an edge. I’d say I was drunk or dead, but what I’m seeing is enough to wake me from either. Enough to disavow all the gods in the universe, to seal them in their sacrament without a prayer left, because their inventors are dying. As I stand and seal my fate, I realize I’m going to die.