Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Face-Lift 1047

Guess the Plot

Cyborg Hallow

1. EB232 has heard all the other robots whisper about a special place where the good robots go when their batteries finally die. Since EB232 is solar-powered, will he ever get to see this paradise? Or will he discover that it's no utopia but is instead a junkyard?

2. Life in the ruins of St. Louis grows more complicated daily as Jungle Jim survives on a diet of toasted rats and searches for a way back to the 20th century. Meanwhile, a robotic horde prepares to invade Missouri from the north, and Major Jane Lazarus, sole surviving astronaut, sends messages from the Lunar Colony.

3. Mr. 93, a bundle of misappropriated body parts, discovers the truth about himself during sex with Sarah 845 when his new lover’s legs fly out the apartment window. The truth being that Mr. 93, Supreme Cyborg Recycling Manager, is, himself, a cyborg! And he never knew!

4. When undersea archaeologist Taz Merlot digs too deep, Ancient Greek robots come back to life and start carrying out their program to convert the world to the worship of Prometheus.

5. Cyborgs travel to the Alps where they shout "Hallow" so that they can hear the echo: Hallow, hallow, hallow... They find this really cool, and my readers will find it cool that the characters are all cyborgs.

Original Version

[We've run out of queries and openings, and after today we'll be down to our last fake query. The query below, written as a writing exercise, was contributed by Whirlochre.]

Dear Evil Editor,

I have pleasure in submitting my 95,000 word dystopian tear jerker, Cyborg Hallow, in the hope that you’ll agree to represent me, become my friend and maybe marry me, and help out financially with a bunch of hoods who’ve been terrorising me since 1982.

Cyborg Hallow tells the story of Mr 93, a bundle of misappropriated body parts who discovers the truth about himself and his planetoid (yes — this is sci-fi!) while dating his way through the underworld demihuman community.

During sex with Sarah 845 (yes — this has chick lit appeal also), his position (no pun intended) as Supreme Cyborg Recycling Manager is compromised when his new lover’s legs fly out of the apartment window.

It’s his job to scrap these dangerous fakes — yet here he is lovingly reassembling one on an Ikea-esque chaise longue representative of my novel’s overall “dark chic”!!!

He opts for lovestruck renegade status over slavish devotion to the machine, and whisks his (still only partially functioning) lover away to The Nether Place in a Thelma & Louise meets Bonnie and Clyde (but they don’t kiss) kind of a way. Resigned to battle mutants till the end of his days, Mr 93 is surprised when no such cut-off point is reached after 2,376 years.

Is unbelievable irony at work here? He’s a cyborg, and he never knew?

If you think Grisham is “gripping”, this is one roller coaster ride guaranteed to compress every last molecule of your being like an anaconda the size of Jupiter had wrapped itself round you like a zillion, zillion times.

I am a 52 year-old, vivacious investment manager from Minnesota with a proud Sioux heritage, two adorable kittens and a 1947 Buick convertible in need of repair. My dream is to be published all over the world and learn everything there is to know about karate.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Yours Sincerely,

Julie-Ann “Angel” Panter


AlaskaRavenclaw said...

Well, shoot, I personally have always wanted to marry Whirlochre. This may be your lucky day, EE.

150 said...

Well, it's got voice.

Dave Fragments said...

I'm strangely thinking of Josh Bazell.

sarahhawthorne said...


Tk said...

LOL - I don't think you left *anything* out!

Rachel6 said...

At first glance, I missed the first paragraph and thought this was a serious query. Then I went back to the start, read more carefully, and laughed through the whole thing.

Good luck with the terrorizing hoods.