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Declan 2.0 - Cover Page
Author: Clayton Beal
ISBN: 123-4-567891-0
Copyright: Aug 1, 2018


Declan 2.0

The Fading



Sequel to:

Declan 1.0


Declan 1.1

Clayton Beal


in conjunction with


Chapter Cat Inc.


is honored to present


The Fading



Dickey Duncan Declan


Melissa Marshella

Rosy Palmer

Otis Mayberry


QD Jizmo



This is the story of a future.


This is a story of human nature.


This is the story of my grandchild and the world he inherited.

His name is 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 adventurous life!

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. Crisper is the name for a state-of-the-art DNA splicing machine. The first 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, his world 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' which 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 Q.V.'s and virtual monitors are called V.M.'s pronounced,

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


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.

Enjoy : )


Special thanks to Tara Gillette who helped me copyright my books

A great big middle finger to Robert Gray, owner of Green Ivy publishing who is stealing my royalties from my first book. He lives in Sarasota Florida.

Special thanks to my friend Naeem for helping build this website, "ChapterCat.Com

and thank you for reading this book. I truly hope you enjoy it.

Chapter #19

Declan 2.0 (The Great Escape)

The Fading

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'I'm goin' to the pokey
Boom Boompa
goin' to the pokey
and that ain’t no jokey

Wearing ladies’ clothing

Aweyeee! pokey pokey pokey
holy smokey
going to the pokey'

Sergeant Friday looked at me. Then shook his head
and said, “What a Declan,” as we rounded a corner.
Then, “Move along. Come on.” I was walking right in
front of him.
We walked past the door to my room on the left.
Sweet, Suite number thirteen. I wanted to run in
there hide so bad. There was a holosign that read,
“Keep Out.” VeeMing from a small unit attached to
the jamb.
The door haunted me as I walked by. It was home for
a while, sort of. I began wondering if QD was alive
enough to get the money and hide it. I wonder who is

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going to water him. I wonder why he can't water
I wonder why my life's so messed up. I mean, why do
I have to be the one with the psycho life?
Wow, I can't believe I never hid the money.
I looked up and saw the bus driver come out of the
bathroom down the hall.
He was wearing his new and shiny, slightly scuffed
top hat. Quite proudly, I might add.
Holy crap. I glanced over to the front as we entered
the lobby and Tawana was checking in at the desk.
She didn't look very happy. I'm glad she didn't see
me. I didn't want her to know I was going to jail. Or
risk her telling David Wayne that she'd seen me. . .
in my tu tu.
But I was glad to see she was alright. Probably lost
friends in New York.
It can't be all my fault.
God, I hope that building falling and destroying all of
those innocent lives wasn’t my fault.
Freak'n QD.
I just can't seem to get rid of that guy.
Then a tear ran down my guilt-ridden face and I
thought, Lord, have mercy. What have I done.
I took a deep breath and manned up as best I could.
I looked back at Tawana one more time as we walked
out of eye-shot. She was wiggling across the lobby in
typical Tawana fashion.
Girl, what are you about to do. These guests have no
idea, do they.
Hmm, If Tonto's not a suspect he might be doing the
shoot. What a lucky guy.
Sgt. Friday opened the door. It was still raining, but
not nearly as hard.
He said, “I can't remember the last time it rained.”
“Been that long?” I asked.

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“Been a while,” he said as he tucked me to the desert
crawler's back door.
I'm going to the pokey
going to the pokey.
“Am I under arrest?” I asked.
“My boss is going to ask you some questions, Mr.
Fonzarelli. ”Sgt. Friday was a man of few words. His
uniform was perfect, starched, and ironed, and his
face looked as if it would crack if ever an expression
came forth.
We made our way down to the station and he
escorted me through the entrance doors. The inside
of the building was cool, and the A/C gave me a chill
as it fell onto my slightly wet skin and clothing.
Much to my surprise I saw Pumba standing at the
counter. He didn't see us walking in. He was rather
engaged in conversation with the girl behind a glass-
fronted counter. At first, I just thought they had
hauled him in for questioning, too, but when I got
closer, I could hear him talking to the officer about
his luge taxi being stolen. I popped him on the back
of the head as I walked by and he turned to see who
did it.
“Hey, Duboc,” he said, smiling as if he was glad to see
me. Then a worried, concerned look fell over his face
as reality set in.
Sgt. Friday reminded me that we were in a police
station and that there would be no more funny
business as he escorted me to a room down the
corridor past some desks.
The room was just like the ones you see on crime
shows. You know, with a one-way mirror and
cameras, and a place to handcuff you in the center of
the table.
He said, “Someone will be right with you, Mr.
I sat there on the cold hard steel chair, laid my head
down and thought, I ain’t telling'em nothing.

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Then I looked up at the two-way mirror and I waited.
And I waited some more.
I put my head back down and folded my arms around
it, and just as I started to doze off, a behemoth of a
man walked in and asked, “Would you like some
water or coffee, Mr. Fonzarelli?”
I said, “No, thanks.
Will it be much longer?”
“No, the detectives just showed up. They'll be in here
Thank God, I thought as I sat there.
My gosh, I've been sitting here for hours and
hours already.
And so, I sat there.

And I sat there some more.

My ass was starting to hurt from sitting there all day.
I got up to walk around a few times, but it just didn't
seem to help.
Fuck, I'll tell 'em whatever they want if they just let me
outta here.
Come on.
Finally, a detective entered the room and asked, “Can
I call you Duboc?”
I was pissed that they made me wait so long so I
replied, "No, I prefer Mr. Fonzarelli,” in a pungent
“But I insist.” He said with sarcastic grin.
I rolled my eyes and gave him the look.
He said, “We have a recording of you in the little
office located in the back of the casino.”
“I needed a screwdriver and the gift shop was sold
out.” I said with a stupid look on my face.
Sgt. Friday entered the room. He looked down and
then back up at me as he crossed his arms in front of

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The detective leaned over the table as far as he could
to get really close and said to me in a low soft tone.
"And you decided to smash the deadbolt instead of
just calling the front desk, or perhaps
just saying, ’Victor, please don't lock me in here’?"
“I think I need an attorney,” I replied.
His face fell back as he laughed right out loud, then
he looked me straight in the eyes and said, “This is
not the United States, boy. This is sovereign Apache
A little freaked out and scared, I asked, “Are you
going to torture me?”
He walked around the table and patted me on the
back and replied, “Well, this isn't Guantanamo Bay,
but rest assured you will be tortured if you don't start
giving me straight answers.”
“Okay, okay," I said, "you got me. I was sneaking into
Vic's office to get one of the small cans of helium. I
was going to empty some of it out and refill it with
laughing gas. And then I was going to put it back. As
a joke, ya know.”
A corner of Sgt. Friday’s mouth rose slightly as he
excused himself from the room.
The huge, monstrous detective slammed both fists
down on the table. Angry eyes bulged out of his head,
and veins were popping out of his neck as he
whispered loudly, “Wha-a-a-at.”
I liked my lie, which helped me tell it with great
confidence. “I thought it'd be a great gag, you know.
Victor said that he gave the smaller cans to Pumba to
air condition the cylinders in the front of his, you
know, Luge mobile, taxi or whatever.”
In disbelief, of my ignorance probably, he left the
He didn't comeback for hours.
And so, I sat there once again. All alone and bored to

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I thought about Patty playing with that beetle when
we visited her in the hospital. I wish I had a beetle to
play with right now.
Man, that was a crazy-ass cat woman lying in the bed
next to hers. And that naked cat, cat-dog pet of hers.
Ugh, I shivered in disgust. I'll never forget the way
that bulldog-faced tail flower looked at me when I
licked the blueberries off the pie plate. That pie was
Then I started thinking about a lot of other stuff
while I sat there for hours.
Mr. Muscles, the monstrous detective, that is, walked
in and asked, “Hungry?”
I replied, “Hungry, I'm starving,” as my stomach
He said, “Good.” Then he pulled an eggamuffin out of
a sack and took a big bite out of it, as he sat down
across the table from me. He leaned back and chewed
a moment while making himself comfortable. Then
slid a Vtab across the table and gestured up a
hologram of me in Victor's office, all the while
chewing mouthfuls of eggamuffin.
Then he said, “I know you were in on the poker heist.
I do not however believe that, you were the architect,
or the master mind.
Tell ya what,” he said, then he paused to lick a piece
of cheese out from between his front teeth. “You sign
this 'Intent to Testify form,' and fill in the names of
your gangster colleagues, and I'll let you walk right
out of here, right now. You could be home in time for
a late dinner. Maybe find yourself a nice girl at our
I said, scared to death, “I don't know anything about
any heist and I'd like to go home now.”
Sgt. Friday entered the room and looked at Detective
Big Monster and asked, “Wrong answer?”
To which he replied, “Yeah,” between some sucking
noises as his tongue ran over his teeth.

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Then Sgt. Friday looked at me with his stone face and
said, “You'll have to come with me now, Mr.
The detective's chair made a noise as he slid it back.
Getting up he said, “We're going to let you sleep on it,
Mr. Fonzarelli. Perhaps you'll have a change of heart
in the morning.”
Holy smokey,
I'm going to the pokey.
Sgt. Friday quietly escorted me to a holding cell down
the hall. As the bars closed he said, “Night night,
sleep tight, don't let the something something bite.” I
don't know. I couldn't make it out over the sound of
the door clanging and locking into its jamb.
I placed my hands around the cold steel bars and
thought, this sucks, as I peered out into an empty,
lonely corridor. Yeah, it looked like I felt.
When I turned around, I saw a guy sitting and
leaning forward on a concrete bench up against the
back wall. We were the only two prisoners in the
holding cell.
He had his hands beside him on the concrete bench,
fingers curled around the front edge, and his head
hung low, like he was looking down at his feet. He
was shaking his head back and forth, waving his long
blondish grey hair while humming. Not like a song,
but more like just long, steady hums.
I wandered over and sat down on the concrete bench,
leaving an extended amount of personal space, of
course, and asked, “What are you in for?”
He looked up at me with a confused look and asked,
His hair was very thick and parted down the middle,
matching his thick, walrus style mustache. His eyes
were bloodshot and droopy.
I shrugged my shoulders and asked, “So, whatcha in
“Oh,” he said, “I come here pretty often.”

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I asked, “Donut thief huh?”
“What? Oh, no,” he said, “Nothing like that. I come in
here to escape.”
Escape? How peculiar. So, I asked, “So, you like the
challenge? Or are you just trying to win a bet?”
He started to speak, but I cut him off and said, “Ooh,
I know, it’s your job to find chinks in the armor,
huh?” while shaking my head yes.
He put his big hand up to hush me and said, “Dude,
I'm escaping from out there and in here,” while
pointing at his head. Oh, a wack, wack, wackadoo.
I'm in the slammer with a wackadoo. That's just
great. Who'd thought?
“Um,” I said, “I'm going to just um, hang out in the
other corner over there. Enjoy your little vacation,
I slid down the bench, put my feet up on it sideways,
and leaned my head back onto the adjacent wall.
That was the same color as the other wall. And the
other wall, and the floor, and the ceiling, and the
bench. There was an old window opening with a
square piece of steel welded over it painted the same
The door was made of thick steel bars, and the
empty, dark corridor on the other side was dingy
beige, just like everything else.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but the
wackadoo's presence just wouldn't let me.
He made me nervous. Like, he had this weird aura.
Still I just sat there with my eyes closed. I was
exhausted. I wondered what evidence they had
against me. I chuckled under my breath,
remembering the laughing gas story.
I started thinking about it a little more. The night of
the heist, that is. I'm pretty sure that Big Chief
Michio had Vic unplug the cameras in the back of the
resort and in the office to hide his affair with Barbie.

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I sure had the feeling that he was hooking them back
up when he was standing on that chair just before
locking me in his office.
Hmm, I never wiped my finger prints off that stupid
Fuck, I'm so busted.
So, busted.
Maybe I should just throw Tonto under the bus like I
told him I would.
Freak'n Coordvah, what a character. I just don't
think I could rat him out. He's got a family and I
genuinely like the guy. I'll never forget the look on his
face when I walked by him in the corridor earlier.
He's probably halfway to Mexico right now. I'm sure
that accent of his will be a real big hit down there.
Yeah, if they had a video of Bella and that shot gun
they'd have him on camera, too.
“Dude! Shut up.” I yelled at the walrus guy. “That
humming has gotta go.”
Bam, and both his fists were tight up next to my
throat and gripping my bright orange tutu outfit and
he said, “You don't like my humming?"
I squeezed these words around his knuckles, “I'm
quite sure there's a lot of other girls out there that
His head backed away and I noticed his angry eyes
soften slightly, then signs of a smirk behind the
walrus stash.
He threw my back against the wall and let go and
said, “So, you’re a smartass, hunh? Think your
I stood up and put my finger in his face and told him
straightly, “I fought men and beast and everything
that creeps and they were all bigger than you!”
After all, this wasn't the first lunatic that I'd ever met.
He looked at me with a familiar reaction. Yep, I think
I know that face.

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He went back to his corner and I settled back into
mine and after a few moments Mr. Walrus stache
spoke up and said, “Well, I guess here we are. Two
lost souls swimming in a fish bowl.”
I replied, “Yep.”
He humbly continued, “My name's Otis and, uh,
sorry I got so upset. I’m, uh, pleased to make your
I said, “My name's Fonzarelli, people call me 'The
Relli' because I'm so quantum.”
He said, “I couldn't help but notice your white hair,”
while pointing his finger at my scalp.
I replied, “Yeah, well, I was dating a wealthy cougar,
you know. Dyed it white so people wouldn't stare. We
had some good times, but I'll be glad when it grows
out again.”
He said, “Oh, I know all about it. We had lots of
cougars out in area fifty-one where I used to work.
One of them lost her lizard suit out in the desert just
before he died taking a leak. Had white hair just like
Avoiding the subject, I said, “Yeah, like you worked
on a top-secret military base.”
He said, “I did.”
I gave him a sarcastic smirk and replied, “So, did
they fire you for being stupid or stealing the morning
He looked me up and down and claimed, “Your kind
of a dick, aren't you?”
I just shrugged my shoulders.
He said, “I was one of the head engineers. I figured
out how to draw huge amounts of energy out of the
ionosphere and manipulate the frequencies in
unimaginable ways.”
Then he paused for a few minutes, testing to see if I
believed him.
Then he spoke. “I found an algorithm up there, one
you won’t believe.”

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He paused for a little while longer while tilting his
head back up into his corner. He said, “You know
anything about physics?”
I said, “I studied it a little. Timeology was always a
subject of interest to me.”
He said, “You know, that's not a real discipline, don't
“Yeah, yeah, big deal,” I replied.
He said, “You know, the ionosphere is on the same
magnetic wavelength as the human brain.”
Then his bloodshot eyes rolled down to see over his
tilted face, to see if he'd piqued my interest, and it
was piqued, no doubt.
I said, “Yeah, so?”
He told me, “I found an algorithm that's been
resonating up there for at least ten thousand years,
perhaps even way, way longer.
It's a subliminal message that seems to have
originated somewhere in the Leo constellation.”
“Wow,” I said, “That sounds kind of freaky" with a
slight hint of sarcasm in my voice.
“Freaky?” He said, “This is direct evidence of
intelligent life existing outside of our own planet! This
is the first evidence of what people have been
searching, and longing for, for centuries.”
“Centuries?” I asked.
“Well, at least two or three!” he replied.
I said, “What about the life they recently discovered
on Saturn's moon, Europa?”
He said, “That turned out to be just a couple of
microbial one-celled organisms that hitched a ride on
much earlier mission. One launched by a joint
venture between Russia and China. It appears it
evolved into a life form that could survive in the
harsh environment.”
“And the algorithm?” I asked.
And it was weird. Like his eyes and his life just
perked right up. His bloodshot eyes even turned a

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lighter shade of pink as he started talking to me with
excitement and in trust. Trust of all things. I wouldn't
trust me, not for a minute.
But Otis, the walrus, whispered this in confidence to
me; “They're fucking cats.”
Then he let it sink in for a moment,
then slowly whispered softly, “Ca-a-a-a-a-a-a-ts.”
“Dude,” I said, “I had you quantized as a, um, let's
say a subject in need of a shrink, and I do believe you
have confirmed my suspicions.”
He scooched way up into my personal space and
said, “I know, it's fucking crazy.”
Then he backed up and looked me square in the eyes
and said, “I think they may be responsible for the
sphinx in Egypt, the one that all the great pyramids
and tombs of the mighty kings surround.”
“And now I know.” Pondering out loud. "Now I know
why all them damn cat memes are so popular on
Facebook." Then I wrapped my chin with my finger
and my and thumb and said softly, “It all makes
some kind of freaky deaky sense now.” Oh, but I’m
sure the straightjacket's just a thought away.
He said in a solemn, deep tone, “That's not even what
I come here to escape from.”
I looked at him and he said lowly, “You ever heard of
mind melding?”
“I've heard a commercial or two,” I replied.
He asked, “What do you think happens when we