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    Creators: Contributor, #0
    Creators: Contributor, #0
    Creators: Contributor, #0
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    Creators: Contributor, #0

    By Nicole Ciacchella

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    About this ebook

    A novella of approximately 80 pages, Creators is a new adult apocalyptic prequel to the Contributor trilogy.

    When the imminent collapse of the world’s food system threatens to all but eradicate the human race, it’s up to nineteen-year-old Liang Zhang to determine which of his company’s employees will live and which will die.

    Liang and the other Job Creators have only weeks to choose which of their staff and families to move into the domes, the last refuges on the barren planet. Despite their best efforts, the Job Creators are unable to keep their selection project under wraps, spurring violent protests against the privileged few.

    Now, Liang must race: against starvation, against insurrection, and against his own conscience.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSweenix Rising Books
    Release dateJan 4, 2017
    ISBN9781386369615
    Creators: Contributor, #0
    Author

    Nicole Ciacchella

    Nicole has progressed from scribbling in notebooks to banging on keyboards, but she’s never managed to stop daydreaming at inappropriate moments. Born and raised in Michigan, Nicole lives there still with her husband and two wonderful children. When not answering the demands of her characters, Nicole can often be found curled up with a good book or spending far too many hours acting the hero in whatever video game is her obsession of the moment. Nicole rarely meets a genre she doesn't like, and as a result has written contemporary romcoms, fantasy fiction, fairy tale retellings, and dystopian/post-apocalyptic fiction. She's the author of the Fairytale Collection books, the YA/NA crossover Contributor trilogy, and the Astoran Asunder series.

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      Book preview

      Creators - Nicole Ciacchella

      Creators

      A Prequel Novella to the YA Post-Apocalyptic Contributor Trilogy

      by Nicole Ciacchella

      For Keira and Ethan. I couldn't imagine my life without you. Always reach for the stars.

      How can you put out a fire set on a cartload of firewood with only a cup of water?

      - Chinese Proverb

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      Desolation

      They were losing the war, this much was obvious. Standing and surveying the fields, Zhang Liang swallowed against the lump in his throat. As far as the eye could see, the crops were dying. Liang crouched and grabbed a handful of earth, feeling his own impotence as it trickled through his fingers. It was so depleted it could no longer sustain life, as evidenced by the dessicated plant stalks waving forlornly in the hot breeze. No matter how much they tinkered with it, Zhang Agritech Systems was unable to successfully replace nutrients in the soil.

      Wiping his hand on his thigh, Liang stumbled over to a vivid green patch. In a blind rage, he began yanking plants out, feeling a vicious sense of satisfaction as he tore their roots from the earth. Even so, he knew it was an empty gesture. No matter how valiantly the corn and soybeans fought, they were helpless against the onslaught of the virulent pigweed, horseweed, and countless other so-called superweeds.

      A sudden pressure on his shoulder reminded Liang that he wasn't alone, and he looked up into the sober gaze of Anya Ragulski, his second-in-command.

      The collectives are no longer viable, she told him, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the drone of machinery trying desperately to provide enough water, enough of a precise chemical cocktail to support the crops needed to feed millions.

      But without the collectives… Liang began, but the thought was too horrible to contemplate, and the words died in his throat.

      There will be widespread famine, Anya finished, sounding so collected that Liang stared up at her, caught between horror and admiration that she could remain so calm. However, as he studied her face, he realized there were tears in her eyes, that her expression was rigid.

      Maybe we just need more hands. We could institute another selection process, bring more field workers into the collectives. There are more than enough candidates, Liang suggested, the words falling out of his mouth faster and faster, as he attempted to cling to this one last surge of hope.

      Just this morning, throngs of people had stood outside the secure, electrified, razor-wire topped gates of the collective, their starved faces staring avidly at his armored motorcade as it glided by on nearly silent electric motors. Though life in the collectives involved a great deal of grueling, back-breaking labor, its workers went to bed with a full belly every night, something about which many people could only dream. The first ten years after the launch of the collectives had been rough because it had been so difficult to find people willing to spend hour after hour toiling in the blazing sun, but conditions on the outside had deteriorated to the point that there were now more people desperate to work the collectives than there were jobs.

      If we increase the number of hands, we won't be able to provide them with food in exchange for work, let alone supply those who don't work the collective, Anya reminded him, her patient tone cracking around the edges. She'd told him this already, but the knowledge refused to enter his head. The more he tried to accept reality, the more his brain fought to reject it.

      Then why did you bring me here? Liang was unable to keep the bitterness from his voice as he pulled himself up from the ground.

      Because I knew you had to see it. Anya studied him with an unwavering gaze until he turned from her, yanking his protective goggles from his face and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. She was right; he wouldn't have believed numbers on a report, would have rejected the graphs and projections.

      After several moments during which Liang stared unseeingly at the hands toiling at their fruitless labors, Anya spoke. We knew this day was coming. You know we've done all we can, Liang. Our scientists have been working around the clock—but I'm not telling you anything you don't know. You've seen the data. You know how many of them have collapsed from exhaustion, how many have had cardiac episodes due to the stress.

      Unable to speak, he simply nodded in acknowledgment of her words. Yes, he'd seen the data, but how could anyone be expected to process the beginning of the end of life as they knew it?

      I know this is difficult for you. It's difficult for all of us. And I know you don't want to hear this, but you have to think like your father. You have to separate the emotional from the practical.

      A bolt of anger shot through him and he clenched his fists, trying hard not to turn and scream at her. Anya had known him since the day he was born. She had become Chief Science Officer after the post had been vacated by her father, who had served as Liang's grandfather's CSO. In some ways, the people who contributed to Zhang Agritech Systems were more of a family to him than his own blood had been.

      You sound just like him when you say things like that, he managed to mutter, regaining control over the frayed edges of his temper.

      I know you two had your differences, Anya said carefully, but you haven't always been fair to your father. Circumstances made him what he was. You can't blame him for that.

      Liang decided not to bother getting into a circular argument with her. The more he tried to convince her he was angry not because of the circumstance surrounding his father's tenure, but because of the way in which his father had reacted to those circumstances, the more she would defend Bao. Though Liang respected Anya, though he held a deep affection for her and all she'd done to contribute to his upbringing, the two of them would never see eye to eye when it came to Bao. Liang's father had scorned his son's compassionate nature, and Liang had wholeheartedly rejected his father's cold, clinical practicality.

      I thought it would take six more months to finish the dome, Liang said, changing the subject.

      Anya sighed but didn't protest. We've added more shifts, hired more skilled laborers. At this pace, we should complete the dome within three months.

      We've only ever run the prototypes. How do we know this will work?

      We don't. Her voice was flat, startling him. A light went out of her eyes. We just have to take our chances. There's no other way.

      A million arguments rose to his tongue but, glancing at his watch, he saw that they would be late for the meeting if they didn't hurry. Anya noticed the gesture and nodded tersely.

      I'll call for the motorcade, she said,

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