The Book of Josiah - Complete Links

Here you will find all the links to the entire Book of Josiah, as it currently stands, grouped both in chapter order and by timeline.

FULL EBOOK - Coming Soon!

Introduction

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14a
Chapter 14b
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23a
Chapter 23b
Chapter 23c
Epilogues

More links after the jump

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 23c

Part a is here.
Part b is here.

“The shields - the whole shielding system - it was your idea, you designed it.”

    “You designed it, is it going to work?”
    “What do you want me to tell you?”
    “I want you to tell me that we’ll do it, that we’ll save Luna-city, and ourselves. Ammi will have our child and we will all live happily ever after.”
    Jonah looked down sadly.
    “I wish I could tell you that, but deep down in my heart I know that is not how this story ends.”
    “Yeah, I know. The whole ‘IN THREE HOURS’ business. What was that about?”
    “It’s called prophecy, Josiah.”
    “You’ll excuse me if I don’t immediately accept that as an answer.”
    “I will,” said Jonah, smiling devilishly, “but for the purpose of this conversation let’s just take it as read.”
    “Okay, fine. So how do you get into this whole prophecy gig?”
    “You are chosen, and believe me, it is as much a curse as a blessing. I have been walking the earth for many lifetimes now, but soon it will be time to rest.”
    “If you can’t be more cheerful I might become more sceptical.”
    Jonah laughed again. Somehow, despite the growing patch of red and orange, that signalled the approach of Security, despite the growing image of Luna-city projected at the front of the bridge, somehow they had found calmness. But Josiah knew it was just the eye of the storm.
    “I shall endeavour to be optimistic, at least in conversation.”
    “That’s all I ask.”
    “So Josiah, what do you dream about?”
    “Haven’t we had this discussion before? I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu.”
    “Yes we have but times change and so do dreams.”
    “And is there nothing else to talk about?”
    “Nothing else worth saying - the world is run by dreams, the world is changed by dreamers. One should never cheapen the power of dreams.”
    The power of dreams. Yes, the phrase itself struck a chord within his soul but he could not say why. Power…
    He flicked the third switch. It was a delicate balance - too much plasma all at once and the whole engine could blow, ruining any chance they had of saving the city. Too little and they would not change course in time.
    The first rumblings pulsed through the ship as the starboard thrusters filled with plasma. Everything shook, first gently and then with increasing ferocity until Josiah had to cling to his chair, and was half afraid his teeth would fall out.
    Then the shaking subsided.
    “Well that was exciting,” Jonah said, sitting up and brushing dust from his clothes.
    “Yes but it wasn’t enough, we’ll need more to push us off course.”
    He looked up at the display - Luna-city seemed so close now, he could make out all the different buildings, the roofs, the domes, the towers. Was that Ammi’s hospital? It was hard to say. But this was what he was fighting for, and he would not let it go.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 22

   The elevators reached the inner sanctum with a satisfied ping.
    The doors slid open gently, revealing rows of silent black guns. Like a machine, the Security forces marched into the room and took up commanding positions, crouching behind steel pews, pointing their guns at their designated targets. Elijah’s guards had scattered too - they were outnumbered two to one but had had time to prepare their barricades. Elijah, however, had not moved an inch. He simply stood behind the altar, silver robes unmoving, an icon of steel - even his eyes were still. He watched and waited.
    Then she made her entrance, her robes the colour of bronze and blood, sweeping behind her like the trail of a comet.
    “Where is he?” Elisha demanded imperiously.
    Josiah hardly dared to breathe. The smallest sound could give him away. Amber too was perfectly still, looking pale and anxious. A thin wooden wall was all that stood between them and a violent death.
    “Where is who, Arch-Lector?” Elijah replied, a quiet smile on his lips.
    Their lives were in Elijah’s hands. Elijah, who had been about to cut off Amber’s ear, who thought he was the messiah! But there had been no other option. At least Elijah wanted him to live. Even so he would probably never leave here alive, he knew that now. But Amber… If it came down to it, he would choose her. ‘And if you have no choice?’ he asked himself, unbidden.
    Josiah put his eye back to the narrow slit in the wall and watched.
    “I am in no mood for games, Lector. Where is Josiah?”
    “I have not seen him.”
    Elisha laughed coldly.
    “You would not wish me to spill blood in the inner sanctum, would you?”
    “Everything with you is about blood,” Elijah retorted harshly, “did you learn nothing from me? All those years I was your master, did you never listen?”
    “I did listen, and I learnt that you are at best misguided, at worst a heretic - ‘For this shall be my blood of the new testament, shed for the remission of sins’.”
    “You quote the book but have not yet discerned its meaning - ‘neither shalt thou stand by the blood of thy neighbour’.”
    “You think you are wise, and yet it is not you that is Arch-Lector. ‘On this day, atonement shall be made for us, to cleanse us of our sins. And Aaron shall bring the bullock of the sin offering, which is for himself’.”
    “‘Choose life, so that you and your people may live.’”
    “‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’!”
    “‘Thou shalt not kill’!”
    “Not kill?” asked Elisha, and Josiah could picture her lips twitching, “I think it’s a little late for that.”

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 20

    And there it was: a mountain in the heart of London, a snow-capped needle of glass and steel piercing the night sky. The Cathedral of the Steel God watched the world the way an earthly lord might survey his domain. Soaring amongst the clouds, it claimed a place in heaven. The icons of the Steel God were crusted in ice and snow, white on grey metal. The everlasting torch flicked from the top of the glass pyramid, a beacon for the lost.
    But the sight brought no cheer to Josiah as he trudged along the twenty-eighth skyway. He did not feel that stirring of heart that true believers felt on approaching the cathedral, nor did he feel the thrill he had once felt on nearing his place of work, looking forward to seeing Elijah. It was bitterly cold up here. He could have taken a lower skyway but this was the most direct route - Josiah begrudged any waste of time.
    Visions of Amber filled his mind. Tortured, caged, beaten. What were they doing to her? Anxiety gnawed at his gut and ate away at his stomach. If only the skycars had been running. This damn snow. The skyways were covered in a layer of black ice, slippery and treacherous. If he had had a car, Josiah might have taken the risk, but like everything else in his life, the Circle had taken it from him. He had known nothing else, and they had thrown him to the dogs. And now they had Amber. What more did they want from him? The machine - his last act of heresy, the last corner of himself. All he had left was his life, and what was that worth?
    When he had last rode the skyways he had been with Amber, driving till dawn. Now it was 3am Central Europe Time, and dawn was out of reach. Shivering violently, Josiah gritted his teeth, pulled his cloak around him, and marched on. Not far to go now, it was almost over.
    Josiah had not thought he would look upon this place again - he had thought that he had escaped the past but he was finding that he could not. He had spent fifteen years of his life in this place, his first memories were of steel fists and full moons. The Circle had been his family, Elijah his father and teacher.
    The Cathedral loomed ever larger as he approached, filling his vision, making him feel small and insignificant - as it was intended. For the last five years he had made this journey every day, and it seemed that each day his excitement had dwindled. Now there was simply a hole inside him.
    What would he find? And more importantly, who? If he got his hands on Lovecraft... She would be alright, they would both be alright.

The Book of Josiah - An Introduction

In the distant future, the Steel God has replaced the God of the Bible, and Science is the only religion. A non-believing priest, Josiah works desperately to complete his time machine, as Elisha and the Inner Circle strive to frustrate his new ideas. Josiah must flee to the Deep, the squalid streets of Camden Town and Kings Cross, escape the hordes of Piranhas and followers of the Steel God, to finish his life's work.

Jos is visiting his wife, taking a break from working on his time machine to fly to Luna City, when he meets the mysterious Jonah, a mad prophet and convicted murderer. But when terrorist strike London, what will Jos and Jonah be prepared to do to save the ship?

Jo is an old man, life wasted on the futile project of building a time machine, desperate to see his wife and daughter once more. When they died in a car accident, his whole life came to a halt and now lies covered in a thick layer of dust. But this peace is shattered when a former student of Jo's, Eli, invites him to join a team. Their project? To build a city on the moon.

Jo, Jos and Josiah - each one of them building a time machine, each one of them disturbed by haunting dreams. They can't possibly be the same person - can they?

The first chapter of 'the Book of Josiah' is online now.

Dreamscape - Behind the Scenes

So far I've posted seven tales of the Dreamscape, posted in the order in which I wrote them. They are:
•Gladiator
•Birth Day
•Sir Gallant 1 and 2
•Genesis
•Prophecy
•The Dinner Party 1 and 2
•Woman of his Dreams 1 and 2

But I haven't written anything about why or how I began to write this cycle. I decided that that ought to change.



Origin of the Dreamscape
I've been working on stories in this world for a long time. I distinctly remember when the first words of Gladiator came into my head as I was walking to the train station in Bristol having spent the weekend with my future wife. Suddenly the opening words coalesced in my mind, and I had to keep repeating them over and over so as not to forget them before I had a chance to write them down.

That was about 7 years ago.

The initial idea was, I believe, the science-fiction element - a dystopian London where the homeless are driven underground and forced to live in the dark and filth. There I imagined they created their own parallel reality of dream and fable, a place where no one suffered and everyone could have all they wanted. I believe that the element of the dream world was very much inspired by Neil Gaiman's Sandman (which is my favourite book of all time and if you haven't read the series, you really must).

Development of the Tales
But what made this idea better than many others I've had over the years, I think, is that this world provided a frame for far more than just science-fiction stories. In this world of dream and fable I could explore ideas of religion, fantasy, mythology and fairy-tale.

I realised that within this one world I could tell stories in every genre I love.

(more after the jump)

Tales of the Dreamscape - The Dinner Party - Part 1

The Dreamscape - a shared dream, a world of escape from the brutalities of the London of the future. 'The Dinner Party' is the only one of my Dreamscape stories (so far) to be primarily set in the 'real' world, and it also has the largest cast of characters I've ever tried to balance in a work of short fiction.

   “A toast!” cried Lord Charles Emmanuel Wytherington III, rising from his chair.
    “A toast!” cried the company.
    “But who shall make it?” asked the Lady Lucy-Emma.
    “Why I shall make it, of course, in honour of the harvest season,” the Lord answered.
    The other diners nodded their agreement, raising their glasses high.
    “To the bounty that the earth has given us and to the wealth she has provided for her children. To the country that sustains us and the city that enriches us. For summer shall never cease from the shores of England. To Wytherington and London Town!”
    “Wytherington and London Town!”
    Six wine glasses were lifted, and thick red wine poured down six throats.
    “Delicious as always, Lord Wytherington,” said the Reverend Edward Hall. “Is it a ’38?”
    “A ’37,” Lord Wytherington answered.
    “I thought so,” Edward said, “reminds me of my time in the war. We were sitting in the trenches, explosions all around us when out of nowhere, little Jimmy pulls out a bottle of red - a ’22 no less, a very good year.”
    Clarice Spenser sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes.
    “Edward, I think we’ve all heard this story before,” Lady Wytherington cut in.
    “Oh Lucy, do let him go on,” said Anne-Mary, the Lady Wytherington’s younger sister, “I think the Reverend’s stories are simply fascinating.”
    She winked at her sister but the effect was lost on Edward who began the story again.
    “At least let’s wait for the first course,” interrupted Clarice, seeing the staff begin to serve the hors d’oeuvres.
    “Oh yes,” agreed her husband, Joseph Worthy, “I’m half-starved.”
    Six pairs of hungry eyes watched the first course arrive from the kitchen on small silver platters. It was an exquisite array of live oysters, fresh from Colchester. They seemed to almost wriggle in their dishes.
    “Reverend,” said Lord Wytherington, “will you do say the blessing please?”
    Each of the diners bowed their heads and clasped their hands together while Edward intoned the grace.
    “Lord our God, we thank you for this bounty which we are about to enjoy and for the generosity of our hosts the Lord and Lady Wytherington. May your blessings rain down on them, their house and all the works of their hand. May you make us truly grateful for the bread you bring forth from the ground. In the name of Jesus Christ, may peace be upon him, - amen.”
    “Amen,” answered the other guests.
    Clarice and Joseph quickly helped themselves to oysters and began to tuck in. Lord Wytherington carefully unfolded his napkin over his voluminous chest while he looked at them with thinly veiled disgust. The other diners waited. He reached out a ponderous hand, took an oyster and cracked it open with a sharp knife. Then he gulped it down like a professional. The meal had begun.