The Click by Steve Shear

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  • In the distant future, all humans who reach the age of seventy-five experience the ‘Click’ and die. It’s considered God’s chronological death sentence intended to prevent overpopulation.

    Narcissist, Oliver Hitchcock, who looks to be in his late fifties, is a retired C.I.A. operative, and handsome lady’s man. He is also one of the lucky ones, a Beater. At seventy-eight he beat the Click and the aging process. His eleven-year-old grandson, Christopher, is not so lucky. The child is prematurely in the throes of the Click and will die within the year if Hitchcock can't save him.

    As Christopher’s impending demise clicks louder and louder and precious time evaporates before Hitchcock’s eyes, he begins to unravel an ugly conspiracy and the truth about himself. In order to move forward and save his grandson he must overcome his own ego, and quite possibly sacrifice his youthful appearance—even his life.

    Rating: non-romance Adult Content
    Page Count: 272
    Word Count: 65454
    978-1-5092-2276-6 Paperback
    978-1-5092-2277-3 Digital


    Chapter One


    On a sunny day in spring, the Cūtocracy headquarters in Rome became the destination for a string of solar powered hydro-pneumatic limousines hovering inches above the ground. Each carried one or more members of the all-powerful Cūtocratic council, including High Minister Charles Sheen, Emissary to the Supreme Minister of the Ecclesian Church, Smotec Innocent II. Trying to avoid the others arriving at the same time, the High Minister had his Limo glide around the corner and drop him off at the side entrance. From there he entered the headquarters carrying a large purse.

    By the time he worked his way up six flights of stone stairs, out of breath even though he rested at each landing, Minister Sheen, now eighty-six years old, entered the reception area on the Council floor. The receptionist, a young woman conservatively dressed in grays and blacks and wearing weighty looking black-rimmed glasses, waved him into the conference room where it was clear he was the last to arrive. Everyone else had already taken their places around a large, elongated, mahogany table. Along the center edge at the far side sat the Council Chair from the United States, a young fat man in a three-piece suit. To his left sat India, then Canada, and so on. There were fourteen members in total representing the entire world. Minister Sheen’s seat to the right of the Chair awaited his arrival.

    He nodded to the others as he limped around the table and took his seat, carefully holding on to his purse. He knew why he was there and didn’t like what was coming. The agenda for this emergency meeting merely set forth the meeting time and the requirement that all attend and cast a vote. Days earlier, each representative was contacted individually, in secret, and apprised of the details, or so the minister was informed. They were also told how to cast their votes.

    The Council Chair called the meeting to order and declared it was time to vote. No discussion was allowed. He started with India to his left and went around the table. India voted Yes, Canada voted Yes, South America voted Yes… And so it went. High Minister Sheen heard China’s Yes vote two chairs to his right, then Neuropa, the same, as if the word Yes was a mere echo within the room, as if it indicated how the chair expected him to vote. It was his turn, the last to vote, given the chairman only voted to break a tie. All eyes were on him, clearly assuming he would make the decision unanimous. The high minister bit his lower lip, slowly opened the purse in front of him and took out a document. He stared at it for a moment, as did the others, then held it up.

    “Gentlemen, I have here a Smotecal Decretum executed by Smotec Innocent instructing me to vote No. I am sorry but we cannot make the Council’s decision unanimous.”

    The stares from the others turned to disbelief, then anger. The room echoed those sentiments like all the yes votes that preceded them until the chairman from the United States banged his gavel insisting on silence. He glared at Minister Sheen for a moment, then banged his gavel a second time. “Nevertheless, the measure passes. Thank you all for attending,” he announced and shooed everyone out, but not before eyeing the high minister as if he had committed a dastardly deed.


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The Click

The Click

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