Ben Chaney - Son of Sedonia

“Call Kuwahara,” Prescott said, “Authorization: Janice Prescott. Encrypt and Connect.” The display shifted and pulsed in mid-air as they waited for an answer. Prescott used each ring as a call to composure. Confidence. Strength. Control. She repeated her mantra over and over until the connection went through. Akira Kuwahara materialized before them.

“Hello Aki,” Janice said, “How are you doing?”

“Not well, Jan, not well. Demonstrations in our Cities are on the rise, and the local governments are restless. Regardless of our promises and reassurances, it appears no one wants to be the next Enota Sato,” Kuwahara said.

“Restless is not rebellious. At least not yet. I have several strategies in mind that can buy us the appropriate ‘padding’ with regards to our timetable, and—” a tickle in Janice’s throat stopped her mid-sentence. Marcus stepped into the silence without hesitation.

“We understand the complications the Intervention and this ‘Son of Sedonia’ have produced. We want to express our deepest apologies for this lapse in judgment, Kuwahara-san, but the timing of this was never going to be comfortable or convenient. That’s the simple reality of the challenges humanity now faces. We want to assure you that our partnership remains not only strong, but essential to maintain our collective advantage moving forward to Gliese 581g.” Marcus finished and relinquished the floor as Nathan Prescott stood.

“Wha—” Janice choked on the breath. Realized her throat was closing. She clawed at her neck with one hand and pawed at the Neural with the other. No help or relief came. The treatment…!

“It is in that spirit,” Nathan said, keying a few buttons, “that we offer atonement for the error, and thus guarantee that insightful, fresh leadership prevents any future missteps.” He pressed ‘Enter.’ Janice’s Augmentors switched off simultaneously, dropping her ninety-six year old body to the granite tile. Her throat closed completely as her chest seized. She reached for Nathan. The spoiled ingrate just turned and cracked a smarmy grin.

“I will assume control of the Prescott family assets, and take my Aunt’s place on the board. But as a senior shareholder only. My friend Marcus Rindal, who has endured personal sacrifice time and time again for this venture, is our unanimous choice for the role of Chief Executive Officer.”

Vision tunneling, Janice Prescott turned her gaze on the Rindal grand-patriarch. Her friend and confidant of so many years didn’t even look at her as she slipped away. Heart-rate slowing and thoughts drifting, Janice stared at his face. The cheekbones. The skin tone. The hard eyes under heavy brow. So much like the grandson… so much alike… so much alike.

Her world faded to the sound of polite applause.

It almost seems unfair that so many people did so much to help this book come to be, yet my name is the only one on the cover. Although if I did justice to everyone, taking the three days to paint the cover illustration might then have been a moot point. Still, none of this would have happened without the encouraging, inspiring, selfless people I’ve had the good fortune to know.

My teachers Mrs. Garland, Lora Stager, Mark Schultz, Paul Hudson, Jay Hawkins, Michael Nolan, Michaela Roessner, and countless others who taught me lessons both complex and simple. So many of you did so over the internet or TV, and we’ve never met. I hope that changes one day.

My past employers Redstorm Entertainment, Epic Games, Schell Games, Radioactive Software, and Villain LLC. May your fantastic games be fruitful and multiply.

My friends. Many of you feel like family to me, regardless of how long we’ve known each other. Thanks and love to Ryan Johnson, Jack McAlpin, Jonathan Krug, Kari Barry, Dave Yeaman, John Washington, Mike Schaefer, Oliver Burling, Kevin Altman, John Gabbard, the Rockers, Danny Green, Roger Collum, Lindsay Edwards, Ben Namie, Shaun Smith, Dwayne Brown, Willie Smith, Byron Youngblood, Rachel Acquaviva, Evan Miller, Lauren Holt, John DeRiggi, Nicole Epps, Jared Mason, Kwamé Babb, Reagan Heller, Sam Polglase, Suzanne Kafantaris (whatever the end result, she saved this book), my Brent-hood neighbors, and the countless others I wish I had more space to list.

My editors, designers, and compositors at TIPS Technical Publishing in Carrboro, NC. I apologize for the post-period double-spaces on every sentence in the manuscript. Old habits die hard, but consider the lesson well learned.

As you can probably tell, I’ve saved the best for last. My family. Thanks to Uncle Jim, Aunt Sandra, Foster, and Aunt Jan (both of them). Thanks to Jacob for playing video games, watching movies, and spending time with a little brother thirteen years younger than you. Thanks to Meagan for all of your heart-to-hearts, sisterly advice, and for making time to read the book while being an awesome mother to my two nephews Cooper and Fletcher.

Mom and Dad. Patty and Les Chaney. Two people who sat me on their shoulders so that I could reach as high as I dared. They struggled, saved, and sacrificed to support whatever I chose to do, all the while repeating “we’re so proud of you.” Mom, Papa… you are my light in the world.

Ben Chaney grew up with a passion for SciFi and Fantasy that led him to study visual storytelling and illustration at the Savannah College of Art and Design. After graduation, he worked his way up through the video game industry: QA testing at Epic Games and Redstorm Entertainment; game art production at Schell Games in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; then art direction at Villain LLC in Cary, North Carolina.

But storytelling had taken a hold of him at SCAD, and manifested in a pet writing project. Often neglected or pushed aside for other things, Son of Sedonia grew slowly over six years. Somehow, the image of the boy on the slum rooftop endured. As Ben honed his craft, the world changed. America plunged into recession, political discord, and uncertainty, triggering a desire for information the likes of which Ben hadn’t before experienced. His writing, and this book, matured as he did.

Video game development had given Ben the confidence in his abilities. What to do with those abilities became impossible to ignore. That and the ceaseless, loving voices around him, all saying the same thing: “Follow your heart.” In June 2012, Ben quit his successful job in game development to do just that.

The book you hold in your hands is the result.

Copyright © 2013 by Ben Chaney

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, Web distribution, or information storage and retrieval systems—without written permission of the publisher.

First Edition

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book,

write to TIPS Techincal Publishing, Inc.,

108 E Main St, Carrboro, NC 27510

www.technicalpublishing.com

Cover by Ben Chaney

Design by Erin Campbell

Copy Edit by Abby Workman

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the Library of Congress

eISBN: 978-1-890586-22-5

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