The Magu Program-paperback

A hundred years into the future, megacities dominate the landscape. Buildings soar a mile into the sky, leaving dark canyons below. While the wealthy and powerful live amongst the clouds, those below choke on pollution, blinded by the neon glow of Base City.

Ashiro Taki has amnesia and can't remember anything before a few months ago. Memories come to him, disconnected and unexplained. A view of a building, the face of a child, and the noodle stand where the proprietor, Eido, seems to know him.

What Ashiro does know is that he's enhanced, very enhanced. Brain augmentation, data ports, and sensory upgrades give him extraordinary advantages when jacked in. On the street, muscle, bone, and tissue implants make him an elite soldier. But what is it all for?

One day, while wandering through the smog-filled half-light of Base City, Ashiro comes upon a boy and his mother. He recognizes the child, his smile, his voice, everything. Has he met him before? Is the boy his? What about the woman? She's familiar, too.

When Ashiro is injured in a deadly fight following a botched hack, he awakens to find the woman, Chiya, caring for him. She doesn't know who he is but has discovered a terrible secret, something she's too afraid to tell him. 

Ashiro is dying, melting from the inside out as his extraordinary enhancements degrade.

The Hakko Ichiu Corporation is one of the largest in the world, and its resources are vast. In control of it all is Yugi Orgata. He has lost something very precious, and he wants it back.

For Chiya, the child Wren is pure and innocent. He is her chance to be a mother again after losing her own son. For Yugi, the boy is something else--and he will do whatever it takes to get him back.

Ashiro, Chiya, and Wren find themselves united in a desperate struggle to survive. Together, they will fight to answer the greatest question of all-- What is The Magu Program?

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In the distance, he spotted her, Hiro, coming this way. He was in luck—he'd wanted to wait for her but knew he shouldn't. People were still after him; he was sure of that. Sooner or later, they would catch up, and anyone in his orbit was at risk—it was hard enough to take care of himself.

He watched as the woman drew near. She didn't exactly blend in, the light colors of her hand-made clothing contrasting with the neons and metallics of Base City. She seemed small and fragile—vulnerable.

Several dozen paces behind her, Ashiro saw them—figures who were equally out of place. Business people, suit-types, high-end fashion that stood out as much as hers did. Base City was the domain of working people and the underworld, not wealthy business types—they belonged in the mega structures above the clouds, looking down from their lofty perch.

There was a woman and two men. The men were of slight build, wore glasses—likely for style only, tailored suits, and artificially perfect hair. What stood out most about them was how identical they were, nearly matched in every detail, from their pinched noses, black eyes shade, and blank expressions to the subtle iridescent fabric colors of their suits and folded breast pocket kerchiefs. 

The woman was a different matter—she was formidable. Considerable enhancements had left her bulging and muscular with a chiseled appearance—were it not for the massive breasts pushing out from her jacket, he would have doubted her gender. She wore mirrored shades, and her hair was a mane of multi-colored corn rolls threaded with glowing fiber optic strands that illuminated brightly as she moved. Her muscled arms pushed against the sleeves of a long, black lycra jacket, glistening in the neon street lights.

The trio advanced rapidly, scattering people in their path—even though Hira hadn't noticed them, their frenzied pace and veering trajectories left little doubt of their focus.

Ashiro crouched down as he reached behind his shoulders, wrapping his fingers tightly around the handle of his sword. Were they following her to get to him? He felt tingling sensations race through his extremities, the hairs on his skin standing, the sounds of the environment ringing. The element of surprise would give him an edge. Even though the men looked non-threatening, he knew better than to take anything for granted. Besides, with three against one, things would happen quickly, and there could be no mistakes.

A gentler soul might try to talk things out—he knew better.

Ashiro slid the sword from its sheath, the slight metallic ring always comforting. Ashiro felt the enhancements beneath his skin activating, que'd for action by his increased adrenal responses. He suddenly felt loose, powerful, like a panther ready to pounce. He knew speed would give him an advantage—together with surprise, the field might be leveling. Typical thug types were of little concern, but when faced with other highly augmented individuals—one at least, it was anyone's guess as to what he might be facing.

Hira passed his hiding place; Ashiro debated alerting her before letting her pass—even a few steps into the building would help distance her from the throng.

As the three approached the narrow entrance of the building, they separated, spacing out at two-meter intervals. Smart—in that configuration, Ashiro couldn't effectively attack more than one at a time. They were good, not accidental hunters but trained killers.

One of the men led the pack. As he drew near, Ashiro could see he was slight in silhouette but knew better than to assume anything. Graphene muscle weaves and carbon fiber tendons didn't require bulk to be extraordinarily strong—the bulk was for show. 

Ashiro sprang from his hiding place, his sword raised for an attack. The man turned toward him as he moved, his reflexes nearly as fast as Ashiro's, but he hadn't counted on the sword; who would have? One of the weapons many advantages. The first swipe ripped across his torso and outstretched arm. The arm fell to the ground with terrific sprays of red, painting Ashiro in staccato patterns of splatter. The man's torso was left gaping, sliced open by the laser-sharp edge of the blade.

Ashiro readied himself for a second strike, but the man was already sliding to the floor, succumbing to his grievous wounds. His hard, determined look faded to one of terror and pain as he lay gasping on the floor. A pathetic, choked cry gurgled from his throat. 

Ashiro felt a pang of alarm. Had he misread the situation?

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