It's always a pleasure to hear from old pals who have been out of touch--especially when they bear glad tidings.
Brian Clark--author, editor and publisher extraordinaire, who was so instrumental in getting my novel CIPHERS into print--has contacted me after a period of relative quiet to inform me that he's re-launching PUCK magazine.
Sometime in the 23rd century, an ailing crewmember is rushed into the sickbay of the USS Enterprise, where crotchety but competent Dr. McCoy stands ready to treat him. A quick diagnosis via non-invasive tricorder, and the future physician knows just what treatment is needed. The required drug is administered swiftly and painlessly without ever breaking the patient's skin, thanks to McCoy's off-the-shelf "hypospray" gadget.
Russ Reynolds, that's me. You probably remember my name from when I ran the country for three days. Wasn't that a wild time? I'm sorry I started a trade war with several countries around the globe. I bet you're all grateful things didn't ramp up to the shooting stage. I know I am. And the UWA came out ahead in the end, right? No harm, no foul. Thanks for being so understanding and forgiving. I assure you that my motives throughout the whole affair, although somewhat selfish, were not ignoble. And now that things have quieted down, I figured people would be calm enough to want to listen to the whole story behind those frighteningly exciting events.
In 2002, in the freelancer’s eternal quest for a plum assignment that combines good pay and high visibility, I thought I had struck gold. The legitimate representative of a major Hollywood franchise (which shall remain nameless here, to avoid any legal hassles; suffice it to say that their films are best noted for certain Phildickian qualities involving which pill leads to reality) asked me to produce a comics script set in their universe, to be illustrated by any major artist I chose and to appear on their website. Eagerly, I immediately wrote the script, without ever signing a contract. Can you guess the rest?