The Transference


Shy orphan Joe Bryant's best friend James sets him up with a job at a long-established scientific research and development company in his hometown of Capistrano. Despite Joe's lack of the basic knowledge required for the position, Trans-Port Incorporated's boss, Professor William Carver, appears only too welcoming. The catch soon appears; Joe is pressurised into being the subject of the team's teleportation test trials. Luckily things turn out well for him. That is until it's explained that the test didn't merely teleport Joe to another place, it sent him to a parallel reality: an identical copy of Capistrano. Almost identical… It's the world Joe's father John escaped to after committing a terrible crime twenty years previously. The process, invented by John himself, is called ‘The Transference'. Now Carver and Trans-Port want Joe to use it again – to bring John Bryant back. But first the stunned Joe needs some answers: like how come he's the only one suitable for the task, who are the mysterious Institute? And why has he never left Capistrano? 

This mind-spinning tale of dual realities will have the reader guessing, then guessing again, as they follow the timid librarian's gradual awakening to the riddles that have dictated his life. As each new revelation brings him closer to the truth Joe is eventually faced with the biggest of them all - the one that could finally break him.

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About the Author

Author Name : Dave Weaver

     I am a self-published author and also writer of five paperback/digital novels under publishers Elsewhen Press of Dartford, England. I write speculative fiction, science fiction and fantasy. As well as my novels I've had short stories featured in a number of anthologies and my own collection 'Short Stories Tall Tales'. My last two books, published under my own Sputnik Digital inprint, have been 'The Meteorite', a novella, and 'The Transference', a full novel. Please check out my blog for details of purchasing all my books and thanks for reading this.


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Latest Poem

Where are your bones, I wonder?

Your dust, your last breath?

I see you queued with your mates

In your final military assembly:

            Bates next to Beasley

            Gillum next to Green

            And so on.

It is a moment captured forever in brass letters,

The year scuffed and barely legible.

How does a hero sleep?  Do you dream of past valor?

Or soft shoulders and tender kisses lost forever?

This once hallowed ground is swathed in weeds,

Cannons and missiles rusted and impotent,

The fence sagging with age.

People pass by, but nobody sees.

Even the names have become ghosts.

John W. Bebout  2018

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