Tinker's Plague
by 
Stephen B. Pearl
Synopsis
Betrayed by petty minded superiors in Novo Gaia, Brad and Carla race to save innocents from the blind hatred of long-dead killers.
The Earth is struggling to rebuild itself from the excesses of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Brad, a Doctor of General Applied Technologies colloquially known as a Tinker, travels the Dark Lands- areas without electricity- helping the people bootstrap themselves back from the edge of civilization.
All until he finds the plague in the town of Guelph.
Now Brad and his assistant Carla struggle to save the lives of the rapidly succumbing townspeople, while a cold war battle between Novo Gaia and the United Grid regions plays out over the quarantine and the lives of the people in the Dark Lands. The political theater is leaving Brad with a mounting toll of dead victims.
Will Brad and Carla be able to stop the plague, or will the contagion escape, infecting a world that is in no condition to survive another catastrophe?
The Earth is struggling to rebuild itself from the excesses of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Brad, a Doctor of General Applied Technologies colloquially known as a Tinker, travels the Dark Lands- areas without electricity- helping the people bootstrap themselves back from the edge of civilization.
All until he finds the plague in the town of Guelph.
Now Brad and his assistant Carla struggle to save the lives of the rapidly succumbing townspeople, while a cold war battle between Novo Gaia and the United Grid regions plays out over the quarantine and the lives of the people in the Dark Lands. The political theater is leaving Brad with a mounting toll of dead victims.
Will Brad and Carla be able to stop the plague, or will the contagion escape, infecting a world that is in no condition to survive another catastrophe?
Close Up
Genre
Classification
Fiction
Pages
349
Format
Paperback
Language
English
Inspiration
My long-term interest in sustainable energy generation and my love of the natural world were major factors in the writing of this book. As well a nostalgic feeling for the age of the generalist or Renaissance man when being capable of practicing a wide verity of skills with out necessarily being expert in any of them was respected.
Dedication
I want to dedicate this book first to my wife, Joy, without whose love and support it would never have come into being. You are my muse and my beloved. Without you there would be no water to drink or air to breathe, no colours in a world gone grey. You are the philosopher’s stone that takes the lead of my existence and transmutes it into the gold of life. Simply said, I love you.
I would also like to honour my late father, Vernon W. Pearl, who taught me a simple truth that pervades this book. If a man has done it, then a man can do it! Knowledge and skill are power there for the taking. Open your mind and reach out your hand.
I would also like to honour my late father, Vernon W. Pearl, who taught me a simple truth that pervades this book. If a man has done it, then a man can do it! Knowledge and skill are power there for the taking. Open your mind and reach out your hand.
Publisher
Draumr Publishing
Publication Year
2009
ISBN-10
1933157305
ISBN-13
9871933157306
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Excerpt (posted with permission by author)
CHAPTER 1 KNIFE HEALING
The boy sprinted along the crumbling, asphalt road his twisted, left arm flailing in his haste. He scrambled over a wooden gate and ran to an ancient van sitting in a field. A tower of interlocking pipes topped with a windmill rose from the van's back corner. Thin-film solar panels covered its roof and sides. Gasping, the boy wailed, "TINKER!"
The van's backdoor opened to reveal a man dressed in light, hemp clothing. His blond hair peeked out from under a wide-brimmed hat.
"What is it?" he asked, donning a pair of mirrored sunglasses.
The boy tried to explain, but all that came past his cleft palate was a babble.
"Slow down. I can't understand you," said the tinker. Stepping from the van, he touched the boy's shoulder. "Take some deep breaths and try again."
Trembling, the boy obeyed.
"It's me maw, she's a dyin'. Meb says she needs a doctor, like in Gridtown, but we ain't got none. Youse a tinker, Meb says maybe youse can 'elp. Da says 'e'll pay. Please, tinker, save me maw."
"Meb, the midwife from the village sent you?"
"Yeah."
"You're Greg Thomson's boy. I remember you from last year."
"Yeah. Please, Tinker, youse gotta 'elps me maw."
"Is your mother having a baby?"
"Yeah. Meb ses it's what's killin' 'er."
"Damn it, I told Thomson to stop having kids. All right, run to the James' place. Have one of them hitch my team and bring my wagon to your house. I'll grab my med kit and go straight there."
"Thank youse, Tinker, thank youse." The child sprinted toward the main road.
"Damn Thomson! How many monsters will it take for him to accept the obvious?" The tinker entered the van emerging seconds later with a pack on his back and a laptop computer in his hand.
Could be a malpresentation, or an umbilical tangle. Probably a foetal malformation knowing Thomson's seed, he thought as he started down the road.
The boy sprinted along the crumbling, asphalt road his twisted, left arm flailing in his haste. He scrambled over a wooden gate and ran to an ancient van sitting in a field. A tower of interlocking pipes topped with a windmill rose from the van's back corner. Thin-film solar panels covered its roof and sides. Gasping, the boy wailed, "TINKER!"
The van's backdoor opened to reveal a man dressed in light, hemp clothing. His blond hair peeked out from under a wide-brimmed hat.
"What is it?" he asked, donning a pair of mirrored sunglasses.
The boy tried to explain, but all that came past his cleft palate was a babble.
"Slow down. I can't understand you," said the tinker. Stepping from the van, he touched the boy's shoulder. "Take some deep breaths and try again."
Trembling, the boy obeyed.
"It's me maw, she's a dyin'. Meb says she needs a doctor, like in Gridtown, but we ain't got none. Youse a tinker, Meb says maybe youse can 'elp. Da says 'e'll pay. Please, tinker, save me maw."
"Meb, the midwife from the village sent you?"
"Yeah."
"You're Greg Thomson's boy. I remember you from last year."
"Yeah. Please, Tinker, youse gotta 'elps me maw."
"Is your mother having a baby?"
"Yeah. Meb ses it's what's killin' 'er."
"Damn it, I told Thomson to stop having kids. All right, run to the James' place. Have one of them hitch my team and bring my wagon to your house. I'll grab my med kit and go straight there."
"Thank youse, Tinker, thank youse." The child sprinted toward the main road.
"Damn Thomson! How many monsters will it take for him to accept the obvious?" The tinker entered the van emerging seconds later with a pack on his back and a laptop computer in his hand.
Could be a malpresentation, or an umbilical tangle. Probably a foetal malformation knowing Thomson's seed, he thought as he started down the road.