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Declan 1.1 - Cover Page
Author: Clayton Beal
ISBN: 0692044280
Copyright: Oct 10 2018



This is the story of a future.

This is a story of human nature.

This is the story of me and you, and the future we are leaving to our children and grandchildren.

This is the story of Dicky Duncan Declan and he has reached adulthood in a world you just can't help but believe.

He is slightly neurotic, loves his mom, and is about to experience the rush of growing up in the wild, wild throws, of his life's adventures!

I, Mark Clayton Beal am prepared.

That's right.

It is 2018. Right now. Physicists are beginning to piece together harmonies that relate both in the quantum and macro world. Faster than light communication through quantum entanglement is a reality. Great mysteries are unraveling before our very eyes. Quantum physics is no longer in its infancy. It is well into its adolescence and A.I. Is as big a threat to our existence as the nuclear bombs of the cold war. Our government recently lifted the ban on human/animal DNA testing. The first human head transplant has been scheduled and delayed. We are re-creating the universe on super computers. BCI, (brain computer interface) is being developed. We read and hear about these things regularly, but few truly realize the implications of it all. The line between science and science fiction is so thin that it seems more a blur. This is today. This is reality. Welcome home. Welcome to your present. Now, come with me into the future. Yes, the future world of Declan along with all of his friends and foes.


There is some terminology, (words that I made up) that you might need to know along with some happenings that happened within the blink of an eye, that this book skipped to bring you something fun and entertaining.

In this future world many things are three D printed including organs and bodies. Humans genetically alter themselves and their children. The armed forces genetically modify humanoids for specific terrain and purposes.

Words include:

'Syncworld' wich is virtual realities that mirror the real world by tapping into cameras, and microphones. You can tap into one of them by using several common communication devices.

The 'Comband' is the most common communication device and is much like the cell phone in that everyone has one and as a norm wears it on their arm. It taps into the information highway via

The 'Quantacom'. The quantacom is the internet of the future. It is handled through a small network of quantum servers. Displays are gestured up as holograms. I did not want to write the words virtual monitor or virtual display a thousand times no more than you would want to read them. Televisions are called T.V.'s and virtual monitors are called V.M.'s pronounced,

'VeeM's' they are holograms projected through mechanisms called 'Holoprojectors'.

A 'Snork' is an urban legend that some believe to be genetically modified humanoids created by the Navy for shallow water recon missions.

A 'V-Tab' is a virtual tablet. A 'Stollar' is a denomination of currency. A 'Scatter-blaster' is a riffle like electronic weapon. A 'Swarm Cam' is exactly what is sounds like all the other words I made up. Especially when you read them in context. A swarm cam is swarm of cameras that resemble and look like a swarm of wasps. The 'Kalah' is a terrorist organization and the 'Roloball' is the most common form of transportation. To travel instantly from one place to another in syncworld is known as 'Zsumping'.

Don't worry, most of these words are only used a few times and they are very much in context.

This prolog is was written for Declan One and Declan Two. Declan Two will repeat this information in its prolog and introduce characters introduced in Declan One to catch everybody up to speed.

Truth about the CCP






Special thanks to Maciek Dornowski for inspiring me to write this book and being my number-one counselor throughout the entire project. His understanding and creative genius truly helped make this book shine. 

Special thanks to Paul Hill, who was also tortured for the past year and a half with stories about this most unusual work. He was also one of the creative geniuses and counselors working hard and encouraging me throughout this project.

Special thanks to Donna Beal, Becky Beal, Juliet Rose, Roseanne Filipetti, Psycho Stairs, and all my friends, acquaintances, and customers that pitched in and put up with me yammering on and on about this work.

Special thanks to all the people that I know and have known throughout the years that helped me develop the personalities and characters that come alive in the pages that are about to unfold.

Special thanks to Netflix and the makers and artists of the shows and series that inspired me, including The Prophets of Science Fiction, Visions of the Future with Michio Kaku, TED Talks, and many other shows where I gathered info. There are too many to even remember.

Special thanks to all the guys and gals over at the physics forums at

Special thanks to William Tyndale for his special work. Without it, this one would not have been possible.

Special thanks Enoch.

Special thanks to Time magazine’s special edition on quantum computing.

Special thanks to Herbert Armstrong and his works that inspire me to this very day.

Special thanks to all of the musicians, rock stars, and bands that are mentioned throughout the book.

Special thanks to all of the businesses and corporations mentioned throughout this book.

Special thanks to all of my junior high and high school spelling, literature, and English teachers who put up with me goofing off and ignoring them throughout my adolescent years.


Chapter #1

Declan 1.1 (Meet Declan)

Life On Earth

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“Hey! What’d you do that for?”
Why me? Why do I have the one with the psycho Mom?
“What?” she asked in her raspy morning voice while stumbling into the
kitchen to make coffee, “Thump you on the head? I don't know. How about
clean your room or I'll thump it again? How about you haven't visited your poor
ole granny in months? How about get your lazy ass out there and find a job?”
“What?” Get a job, like I don't want to work? I've been working since I
was twelve years old. I don't mind working. Not like somebody's going to walk
by and put twenty bucks in your pocket. “Yeah, yeah,” my reply, “How about
good morning Son, are you excited about your first day back at school?”
The familiar smell of Colombian coffee filled the breakfast nook as I gazed
out the window at the clear blue sky, just in time to see an ink jet fly by. Looks
like one of the neighbors is printing something big. Ink. That's messed up.
Yawning and stretching, Mom asked, “So do you really have to go
all the way down there? To the actual school house?”
Slightly embarrassed I replied, “Well, when you’re sneaking in, you do
what you gotta do.”
Listen y'all. I usually love my mornings. They're normally peaceful and
quiet. I kick back at the kitchen table, gaze out the window and day dream
while watching the palm trees swaying back and forth in the gentle breeze
blowing across the community pond in the backyard. Sometimes I even see a
bass jump or, a bird dive bomb a shiner. Yeah, my favorite chair here in the
kitchen is normally the perfect place to relax and plan out the day.
That time was cut short this morning though. Mama bustling down the
hallway, music turned up just enough to distort all sense of sound quality,
while singing way out of tune. Making up lyrics that don't even make sense.
Then, just like that, she's clanging coffee mugs around and thumping me on
the head, pouring water in the El Café’ machine, making coffee the same way
Grandma did a hundred years ago. She claims it tastes better that way. I guess
I really shouldn't complain. She's not really all that bad.
Still, I gotta get out of here. I love my Mama, God knows I do but, I
really need a quiet little place of my own.

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She sat down across the breakfast table and proceeded to engage in her
typical morning routine.
Feeling a bit dishoveled, I put my elbows on the table and my head in my
hands. Slowly I moved my forefinger out of the way to watch her turn on the
QV and then she gestured up fourteen virtual monitors at once. A VeeM for
Solitare, poker, Sudoku, and another one for ‘The Jetsons,' which is the latest
social media game, a real estate market analyzer, her favorite soap, and on the
main window with accompanying sound, the morning news cast.
I sighed, giving up all hope of peace returning to my morning. I looked
out the window and took a sip of caf-buz. Then turned back to watch the news.
I’m glad she had the volume up on the news. I don’t think I could handle soap
opera drama or those game noises this early.
Look at that idiot. The weatherman came out wearing a very large, bright
orange bow tie, wiggling his creepy eyebrows as the Holocam zoomed in for his
close up. He said, “The heat wave is going to continue a while longer” and “it's
going to be another record breaker here in south Florida today.”
There was a thrill seeker headed out on his Hydroflyer in the ocean
background. The weatherman shook his head back and forth really fast and
went “Brrr” as the back ground changed to a windy, snowy New York scene.
Them folks were bundled up.
The weather man continued his report, “Snow and ice up north, from
Chicago to New York, and just plain cold everywhere else in the nation.” Then
the view of a train with tanker after tanker headed to New Mexico. He
continued, “The drought in New Mexico will soon be going on its eighth year.
The experts are all blaming El Nino-Chong out in the Pacific.”
The co-anchor added, “Conspiracy theorists are blaming top secret
government testing out in area 51.”
The anchor man, whose hair was perfect, cut his eyes left and gave her a
demeaning glance. Then he said something about a Sasquatch, I don't know.
The camera zoomed in on him, “In other news, a group of scientists
found life on Europa, one of Saturn’s moons.” Then he joked around with the
co-anchor about her lineage. She looked less than amused, but she was a pro.
She smiled real big and turned her cleavage into her close up.
Then she gave the morning traffic report. “Slowdowns on ninety-five due
to an accident near the south bound exit ramp at Congress.”
Probably some idiot trying to manually drive his heat synced roloball. I
don’t know how they afford the insurance. I remember seeing the charges light
up on the dash when Dad turned off the auto drive one time, way out west of
Pahokee in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but the smell of sugar cane
burning. He said it was worth it, and that manual driving with loud music on

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was good therapy. I think him and Mom where probably arguing about
The news anchor dropped his voice down to a sad and serious tone as he
told the story of how a twelve-year-old little boy was found murdered. Said the
police suspect the Krain Brothers drug cartel also known as the KBD. I
couldn’t bear the thought of it. Those guys are freak’n monsters. And the worst
part is, everybody has 'krained their brain' a few times. Weird experience.
I looked up and saw Mom peeking at me over her virtual monitors, her
morning hair sticking up in every direction while her fuzzy pink slippers
wobbled around in the chair beside me. She was wearing her favorite, worn-
out, pink bath robe, and saying, “That’s a damn shame. I sure hope they catch
those bastards.”
How could anybody do that? The thought hurt me deeply. Yeah, this is
why I never watch the news. Too depressing. I looked over at Mom, who was
entertaining herself with Cat Fat memes at this point.
I turned and looked back out over the pond in the back yard. My
thoughts drifted into visions of my dad. I'd heard Rumors about his
involvement with the KBD, but there's just no way. Abruptly, I pushed the
thoughts aside and focused on my first day back to school.
I told Mom, “They say it's going to be crowded down there at the ole
school house. They are giving out discounts and grants trying to improve
humanity's face-to-face social skills. They’re even giving extra credits for real-
life attendees and renovating a lot of the old, abandoned parts of the buildings.
I don’t think I’ll have to be going down there long though. I’m sure my man Wu
will crack the classroom codes pretty quick, he's the best.”
Mom replied, “You’re just growing old and wasting time Dicky. But who
knows, maybe you’ll meet a nice girl down there. You know, a real one. I don’t
want one of those stupid, isopod, virtual grand babies. I want a real baby; one I
can hold in my real arms.” Then she cradled her arms and pretended to rock a
baby in them.
“Yeah, yeah You know you can’t really tell the difference Mom.”
She lifted her eyes as she grabbed her coffee, smirked a little and scoffed,
“Like you would know.”
“Mom, just leave me alone about the girls. It costs real money to date
real girls. Just let me sit here and relax a few more minutes before I have to get
in the roloball and go to class. You know how much I hate those things.
“Leave you alone? You need to start helping out around here Declan. We
might be in trouble if I don't close on the Anderson house next Friday.”
I don't know why she's up so early. Maybe she wanted to wreck my
morning routine. You know, get up, flash a cup of Caf-buz, hit the quantacom
and look for a job. After staring out the window for a couple of hours, of course.

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I’ve been doing this every day since Dad’s taco stand burned down last month,
exactly one week after he died. God, I sure do miss him. The way he used to
make everyone around him laugh with his quick witted sarcasm. He could cut
a man in half.
Poor Mom. I took a deep breath as a tear swelled in my eye. She's been
nothing but grouchy ever since. I know she loved him. I guess everybody deals
with tragedy in their own way. I looked over at her and noticed that she had
rearranged the VeeM's. She was flicking through her real estate listings and
playing The Jetsons at the same time.
She looked annoyed that I was watching her and said, “You’re getting to
old to be riding your Mama’s coat tails Declan.”
I opened up a job hunter app. “I know Mom,” I replied, “I just don’t know
what to do. You gotta be a freakin robot or a genius to get a job these days.
Look, here’s one. I could be an attorney oops, bots only. Oh, I could be an
architect nope. Bot job. Hey I could study to be a doctor not anymore. The
MedicDroids have taken over that profession too. I hate robots. I mean I really,
really hate robots. You'd think we'd learned our lesson after world war three.
Maybe I can be the programmer that writes the programs that write the
programs that program the electronic demons that are taking over everything.
They’re going to ask for their rights one of these days and then we’ll all
be in trouble.”
Mom looked up and said, “Me and youir dad saw some nanny-bots in the
mall a couple of months ago, I couldn't tell them from real people.”
I replied, “Oh, I can. They're stupid and I don't like them taking over
everything. I need a job.” I glanced back down at the useless app.
“Oh, here’s a good one, Mom. They need people on the moon. The ad
says, ‘Many positions available, will train.’ You want me to go to the moon?”
She balled up her fist and shook it at me and said, “I’ll send you to the
moon here in a minute! I could’ve got you some handy work if you hadn't
spilled that gallon of paint all over Gwen’s new alumnite flooring.” Then she
smacked me on the back of the head and told me, “Take care of the garbage
before you leave Declan. I have to go get dressed.” She put her coffee mug in
the sink and walked back down the hall to her room.
I opened up the 'garbage control' app on my comband and watched
the daily refuge roll across the room.
A sexy female voice rang out, “John Goldman is calling”, as his Icon
appeared on a VeeM springing out of my comband, “answer / ignore?”
Now, John is one of my oldest friends. I've known him since middle
school. We both played the trombone together even all the way through
highschool. He was almost always first chair and you know where I was, last
chair where I could sit next to Janet Holly, the hot, hot, hottie with naughty,

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naughty body. I could never get her, but it was nice just sitting next to her and
clowning around.
“Answer.” I replied.
“Hey John. What vibes?”
His answer, “Swirly dooo Declan, what’s up?”
I hate that nickname. “Dude, don't call me that.”
“But you wear it so well.”
“Ugh” I can’t believe he still calls me that. How can we even be best
friends? I really don't know but John was already going on. “I’m going to be in
town tomorrow night, thought we could get together and shoot a few beers and
drink a little pool.”
I love hanging with John. I've enjoyed a lot of adventures with his crazy
ass. Every time I see him I start reminiscing about all the escapades we used to
go on. Sneaking off on band trips and barely making it back before the head
count, having Goss trick the cameras, or paying off the boneheads that were
supposed to be watching them. Good times…it’ll be good to see him. I wonder
what ever became of Scott. Goss that is.
“Yeah, call me tomorrow afternoon,” I tell him. “I have to run, gotta get to
school believe it or not.”
John replies, “You actually have to go there? What classes are you
I answered, “You know timeology, math, physics, and philosophy.”
I could almost hear him laugh as he replied, “Timeology is not a real discipline
you know.”
I replied, “Yeah, yeah. Sure, I have to run now, call me tomorrow.”