The American Book of the Dead
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Eugene Myers is working on a novel about the end of the world. Meanwhile, he discovers his daughter doing porn online and his marriage is coming to an end. When he begins dreaming about people who turn out to be real, he wonders if his novel is real as well. Eugene Myers may just be the one to stop the apocalypse. This history of the future covers every conspiracy imaginable: UFOs, secret societies, and World War III, as well as theories on life after death and human evolution by a writer whose last novel was called by Dogmatika, "A page-turner and an example of an effective piece of storytelling that should be envied." In the tradition of Philip K. Dick and Robert Anton Wilson, The American Book of the Dead explores the nature of reality and the human race's potential to either disintegrate or evolve.
circulation. But the prophecy is real and I’m fulfilling it.” She looked at him blankly, with more exhaustion than judgment. “You’re crazy,” she said, plainly. “How can I convince you, Amy? We have been married a long time. You know that I believe in things very strongly. I don’t enter into anything lightly. You have to believe me.” “Why do I have to?” “Because we’re married.” She ignored this. “I went along when you said you were the Anti-Christ on TV. I went along because I had no choice.
us together. The house also happened to be nicer than the others on the list, especially the sprawling backyard. Brick patio, stone-lined pool, guest house the size of a single-family home, flowers everywhere, though some weeds were starting to get overgrown. Cutting a stark contrast was a shanty-town-like shack resting on the grass: Banski’s home. It was a toolshed he’d brought over from someone else’s backyard. He exited the house, still looking homeless. “Banski,” I said, “you know there’s
“Maybe they were trying to get prepared.” “Maybe. It all happened so fast.” He paused. “You ever see roadkill? After you see one dead body, another body isn’t such a bad thing. A mess of skin and blood. It’s so…lifeless. That sounds stupid but it’s true.” The look in his eyes suggested he didn’t believe this. “Anyway, I don’t recommend going down there. No point in it. Every usable building is looted or destroyed. The smell is terrible. Just sad.” “You see many other people?” “A few. Some guy
didn’t sneer at this. She looked inquisitive. “No,” she said. “I want to come with you, I think. I want to be there when this all blows up in your face. It’s the only hope I have right now.” “Perhaps you’re curious if I’m right and we’re going to enter into a beautiful reign of peace?” “Oh please, Charles, leave. I think you’re a fucking idiot.” “OK,” Charles breathed. He closed the door to her room gently, as if she might judge how he closed the door. Every one of their conversations went more
they couldn’t entirely control what the enemy would do, but real estate casualties had been kept to a minimum. L.A. had it all— temperate weather, even with the warming, and some of the nicest homes in America. They had wanted to stay in the U.S., rather than heading south of the equator. America would be the new Atlantis. L.A. was its new capital. The plan was working fine. There was no radiation poisoning in the city, only flooding. And now there were thousands of vacant homes. Beautiful homes,