Hollow World

by Michael J. Sullivan

  THE FUTURE IS COMING…FOR SOME SOONER THAN OTHERS

  Ellis Rogers is an ordinary man who is about to embark on an extraordinary journey. All his life he has played it safe and done the right thing, but faced with a terminal illness he’s willing to take an insane gamble. He’s built a time machine in his garage, and if it works, he’ll face a world that challenges his understanding of what it means to be human, what it takes to love, and the cost of paradise. Ellis could find more than a cure for his illness; he might find what everyone has been searching for since time began…but only if he can survive Hollow World.

  Welcome to the future and a new science fiction thriller from the bestselling author of The Riyria Revelations.

  We are honored that Hollow World has made a number of “Best of” and “Most Anticipated” lists including:

  • Ranting Dragon’s 30 Most Anticipated Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels for 2014

  • The Book Probe’s 2014 Most Anticipated Sci-Fi Novels

  • BiblioSanctum’s Top 10 Reads of 2013

  • Fantasy Review Barn’s Barney Award for 12 outstanding reads of 2013

  Hollow World

  Copyright © 2014 by Michael J. Sullivan

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the copying, scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this edition or portions thereof without the express permission of the author and publisher. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission can be obtained by contacting the author at Michael.Sullivan.DC@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Cover Illustrations: Marc Simonetti & Michael J. Sullivan

  Cover Design: Michael J. Sullivan

  Tachyon Publications

  1459 18th Street #139

  San Francisco, CA 94107

  (415) 285-5615

  tachyon@tachyonpublications.com

  smart science fiction & fantasy

  www.tachyonpublications.com

  Series editor: Jacob Weisman

  Project Editor: Jill Roberts

  ISBN 13: 978-1-61696-183-1

  Printed in the United States by Worzalla

  General Release First Edition: 2014

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Learn more about Michael’s writings at www.riyria.com.

  To contact Michael, email him at Michael.Sullivan.DC@gmail.com.

  PRAISE FOR HOLLOW WORLD

  “This is a clever and thought-provoking story, with loads of interesting ideas, some adrenalin-pumping action and plenty of humour…overall an entertaining read with Pax being one of my favourite characters of the year.” — Pauline M. Ross, Fantasy Review Barn

  “This is social science fiction that H.G. Wells or Isaac Asimov could have written, with the cultural touchstones of today. A modernized classic, Hollow World is the perfect novel for both new and nostalgic science fiction readers.” — Justin Landon, Stafer’s Book Reviews

  “This book made me laugh. It also made me cry. And in the end, it made me think. I highly recommend Hollow World for anyone looking for a book that brushes on and plays out some political and social issues we face today.” — N. E. White, SFFWorld.com

  “I fully expected this to be a good speculative read, I had not expected it to be one of those rare literary gems that exceed the speculative genre to become worthy of any English literature class.” — Stephan van Velzen, The Ranting Dragon

  “I’m happy to report that not only does Hollow World establish Sullivan as a force to be reckoned with in any genre he chooses to ply his talent to, it also is a prime example of one of the reasons speculative fiction is so important…Sullivan questions our assumptions about our society as a whole that makes this one of the best novels, I’ve read this year.” — Matt Gilliard, 52 Reviews

  “Hollow World is a character-driven story packed with intensity and emotion…Hollow World was easily one of my top reads of 2013.” — Stephenie Sheung, Bibliosanctum

  This book is dedicated to the people at Tachyon Publications who are leading the way in publishing done right. I hope more organizations follow in their footsteps.

  MICHAEL SULLIVAN’S WORKS

  The Riyria Revelations

  Theft of Swords (contains The Crown Conspiracy and Avempartha)

  Rise of Empire (contains Nyphron Rising and The Emerald Storm)

  Heir of Novron (contains Wintertide and Percepliquis)

  The Riyria Chronicles

  The Crown Tower

  The Rose and the Thorn

  Standalone Novels

  Hollow World

  Antithesis (forthcoming)

  A Burden to the Earth (forthcoming)

  Anthologies

  The End—Visions of Apocalypse

  Triumph Over Tragedy

  Unfettered

  Help Fund My Robot Army

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  A NOTE ABOUT TIME TRAVEL TECHNOLOGY

  Time travel as described in this novel isn’t possible. It’s important to mention this up front. I’m not saying, “Don’t try this at home.” I’m simply clarifying that this is as much a work of fantasy as it is science fiction—but, then again, most science fiction has a dash of fantasy thrown in, that artificial what if spark that ignites the chain reaction that propels everything forward.

  In the classic The Time Machine, H. G. Wells’s high-tech explanation for how his device was able to skip through years was: “Now I want you to clearly understand that this lever, being pressed over, sends the machine gliding into the future, and this other reverses the motion.” That’s pretty much the extent of his hard science. Of course his story, while named The Time Machine, really wasn’t so much about the machine or the science behind it, but rather speculations on the future of mankind.

  So is Hollow World.

  The Time Machine was first published in Britain in 1895. Apparently, back then, you could get away with stating that pressing a lever resulted in doing something otherwise known as impossible. Of course back then, they didn’t have the Internet. The average reader today knows that you can’t travel faster than the speed of light, or through a black hole. This education may be due more to the success of science fiction entertainment such as Star Trek than to high school teachers, but here we are. The modern-day reader is better educated and demands plausibility.

  To this end I did research into time-travel theory, and I drew inspiration from a handful of sources, most notably Time Travel in Einstein’s Universe: The Physical Possibilities of Travel Through Time by renowned astrophysicist J. Richard Gott. Mr. Gott provided a plausible explanation for how a stationary object could move significantly forward in time by overcoming the g-force restriction of linear travel by moving interdimensionally. This is theoretically possible if you could put yourself in the near-center of a black hole while maintaining a defensive shell using electrostatic repulsions of like charges. That’s the theory, but as I said, time travel of the sort required for this story isn’t possible—at least not in an urban garage. I fudged the math—a lot. I aimed for a dramatic blend of façade, plausibility, and smoke-and-mirrors illusion so that if you don’t look too closely, you can almost imagine it working.

  Like H. G. Wells’s tale, Hollow World really isn’t about time travel any more than reality television shows are documentaries. I hope you won’t allow a little creative license to get in the way of enjoying the ride. I felt providing a good reading experience superseded an adherence to stri
ct probability. Hollow World isn’t a story about the science of time travel.

  So, what is this story about?

  Read on—a world awaits.

  — Michael J. Sullivan

  January 2014

  This book is dedicated to the people at Tachyon Publications who are leading the way in publishing done right. I hope more organizations follow in their footsteps.

  CONTENTS

  A note about time travel technology

  Chapter 1: Running Out of Time

  Chapter 2: Time to Go

  Chapter 3: No Time Like the Present

  Chapter 4: Killing Time

  Chapter 5: Times They are a Changin’

  Chapter 6: Timing Is Everything

  Chapter 7: Sign of the Times

  Chapter 8: Another Time, Another Place

  Chapter 9: All in Good Time

  Chapter 10: Time Heals All Wounds

  Chapter 11: Quality Time

  Chapter 12: The Time Is Now

  Chapter 13: End of Times

  Chapter 14: Time’s Up

  Chapter 15: Time Will Tell

  Chapter 16: Time Well Spent

  Afterword

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Theft of Swords Excerpt

  CHAPTER ONE

  RUNNING OUT OF TIME

  When she said he was dying, and explained how little time he had left, Ellis Rogers laughed. Not a normal response—the doctor knew it, Ellis did too. He wasn’t crazy; at least he didn’t think so, but how does anyone really know? He should have seen visions, flashes from his life: kissing Peggy at the altar, graduating college, or the death of their son, Isley. He should have fixated on all of the things that he’d never done, the words he had spoken, or the ones he hadn’t. Instead, Ellis focused on the four-letter word the doctor had said. Funny that she used that word—he never told her what was in his garage.

  The pulmonary specialist was a small Indian woman with bright, alert eyes and a clipboard that she frequently looked to for reference. She wore the familiar white lab coat—stethoscope stuffed deep in one pocket. She sat, or more accurately leaned, against the front of her desk as she spoke. At the start of her speech, the doctor had begun with a determined, sympathetic resolve, but that train had been derailed by his inappropriate outburst, and neither of them seemed to know what to do next.

  “Are you…all right?” she asked.

  “First test I ever failed,” he said, trying to explain himself, hoping she’d swallow it and move on. Given the news she had just delivered, he deserved a little slack.

  The doctor stared at him concerned for a moment, then settled back into her professional tone. “You should probably get another opinion, Ellis.” She used his first name as if they were old friends, though he’d only seen her the few times it had taken to get the tests performed.

  “Is someone working on a cure for this?” Ellis asked.

  The doctor sighed, keeping her lips firm. She folded her arms, then unfolded them and leaned forward. “Yes, but I honestly don’t think anyone is close to a breakthrough.” She looked at him with sad eyes. “You just don’t have that much time.”

  There was that word again.

  He didn’t laugh, but he might have smiled. He needed a better poker face. Ellis shifted his sight away from her and instead focused on three jars sitting on a counter near the door. They looked like they belonged in a kitchen—except that these contained tongue depressors and cotton swabs instead of sugar and flour. He couldn’t tell what was in the last one. Something individually packaged, syringes, maybe, which reminded him to double-check the first-aid kit to make sure it had a good supply of aspirin. Not all of them did.

  The doctor probably expected him to cry or maybe fly into a rage cursing God, bad luck, the industrial food complex, or his own refusal to exercise. Laughter and smiles weren’t on that menu. But he couldn’t help being amused, not when the doctor was unwittingly making jokes.

  No, he thought, not jokes—suggestions. And she’s right, there’s nothing stopping me anymore.

  He was dying from idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis and she had given him six months to a year. The to a year portion of that sentence felt tacked on in an overly optimistic manner. Anyone else might have focused on that part of the equation—the dying part—and thought about trips to Europe, safaris in Africa, or visiting neglected friends and family. Ellis was planning a trip of a different sort and began running a mental checklist. He already had most everything. Flashlight batteries, he should get more of them—can’t ever have too many batteries—and some more M&M’S, why the hell not? It wasn’t like he had to worry about his weight, diabetes, or tooth decay. I’ll buy a whole box! The peanut ones, the yellow bags are always the best.

  “I’m going to set up an appointment for you to come back. Two weeks should give you enough time to see someone else and have the tests repeated.” She stopped writing and stared at him with her big brown eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Is there someone I can call?” She flipped through the pages on the clipboard again. “Your wife?”

  “Trust me, I’m good.”

  He was surprised to realize he was telling the truth. The last time he felt that way was thirty-six years ago when he had sat across from the loan officer’s desk and learned he’d qualified for the mortgage that allowed him to move out of his parent’s home. Fear mingled with the excitement of facing the unknown. Freedom—real freedom—had all the rush of an illegal drug.

  I can finally press the button.

  She waited a beat or two longer, then nodded. “Assuming your second opinion concurs with mine, I will add your name to the registry for a transplant, and I’ll explain the process in detail at your appointment. Aside from that, I’m afraid there’s nothing else we can do. I’m really very sorry.” Reaching out she took his hand. “I really am.”

  He nodded and gave a slight squeeze. Her smile appeared less forced then. Maybe she was thinking she’d made him feel better, made some emotional connection. That was good, he needed all the karma he could get.

  “What’d the doctor say?” was the first thing out of Peggy’s mouth when Ellis walked through the door. He couldn’t see her. He guessed she was somewhere in the kitchen, shouting over the television she’d left on in the living room. Peggy did that a lot. She said it made her feel less alone, but she kept it on even when Ellis was home.

  “She said it was nothing to be concerned about.” He dropped his keys on the coffee table in the candy dish their son had made years ago.

  “She? Wasn’t your appointment with Dr. Hall?”

  Dammit! Ellis cringed. “Ah—Dr. Hall retired. I met with a woman doctor.”

  “Retired? That sounds sudden. Is he okay?”

  “Yeah—yeah he’s fine.”

  “Well good for him. I’m surprised, though. He really isn’t much older than we are, and I always thought doctors retired later than other people. So this other doctor, she wasn’t concerned about your cough?”

  Ellis found the remote and turned down the volume until the gaggle of women arguing on the television was nothing more than a low hum. He wondered if it was the same show he always walked in on or if all the shows she didn’t watch were the same.

  “Not really. She said it was just a virus,” he called back.

  The living room was a milestone showing how far they had come. Two Williams-Sonoma mohair couches faced a big screen television as wide as the bathroom in their first apartment. On shelves near the fireplace sat his M.I.T. textbooks alongside dissertations he had bound in genuine leather. Above those were a pile of thrillers and murder mysteries by the likes of Michael Connelly, Tom Clancy, and Jeffery Deaver—his mind candy.

  Photos were everywhere: hanging on the walls, propped on end tables, balanced atop the television. From each frame a sandy-haired cherub with freckles and a varying number of teeth smiled back. The one taken at Cedar Point comma
nded the centerpiece of the granite coffee table. All three of them had been in that amusement-park photo, but a strategic fold had left only Ellis’s left hand visible where it rested on his son’s shoulder.

  “Did she even give you anything for it?” Peggy asked. She entered the living room still wearing her work clothes, what she called her “three Ps”: power pantsuit and pearls. She glanced at the television, perhaps checking to see if she was missing anything important, then turned back to him.

  For a moment he considered telling the truth, at least about his prognosis. He wanted to see what she’d say. What she’d do.

  He couldn’t say yes. She might ask to see the bottle. “She gave me a prescription. I just haven’t filled it yet.”

  “Well, you better do that soon. The drugstore will be closing—at least the pharmacy counter will.” She pulled a fresh pack of menthols from the pocket of her jacket and began to tap out a cigarette, then paused, looking at him. “Oh,” she said with a disappointed tone and a little frown. “Aren’t you going to the garage?”

  “Actually, I’m meeting Warren. Just came home to get my coat. It’s getting cold.”

  “Well, if you take any pills, look at the bottle before you start drinking.”

  Ellis grabbed Peggy’s keys off the hall table as quietly as he could, but instead of heading out the kitchen door he climbed the stairs to their bedroom, and once inside, locked the door. His heart was pounding so loud he hoped Peggy couldn’t hear it. Taking this first step made it real for him.

  Jesus, I’m actually going to do it.