Looking for a new series? We’ve got you covered. Unveil’s
has started to release a new fictional series that’s part of UnveilTV’s growing universe of content. It reads like an action story ripped from tomorrow’s headlines and is being written in real time.We’re also releasing it as a podcast on Unveil TV, and you can catch the first few episodes there right now.
Today we wanted to give you an exclusive glimpse. Scroll to the end of this post for an excerpt.
Synopsis:
49. The last President inaugurated in the United States. The span of terrible days after the global comms black out when the world was reshaped. The number of strange supernatural phenomena that appear around the globe.
Diez, a former investigative journalist, delivers last rites to contestants voted off Corridor West’s deadly game show. When he meets Boyer, who slipped through the porous southern border as a kid during 46, the two realize there’s a shocking secret at the heart of the billionaire governor’s off-world efforts to colonize Mars.
The 49 is a high-tech, high stakes thriller set in the not-too-distant future.
We think the character-driven series will thrill you. It’s a suspenseful, imaginative story. Part of the excitement is that Andrew is writing it in real time, and the content is being created each week, so the reader and writer are discovering the plot together.
We invite you to check it out and to share it with a friend.
An exclusive excerpt from The 49.
Diez tapped the ring on his right index finger against the fob. The flatscreen panel in what looked like a solid metal door appeared and scanned his face. At the prompt he leaned forward for the retinal scan.
By rote, he spread his arms and legs. Like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, he thought to himself. He couldn’t help but wonder where the famous sketch by the artist ended up, or if it survived. It was traditionally housed in Venice. He knew that. Sometimes borrowed by the Louvre. So much great art lost.
As the pulse of the infrared camera dissipated, Diez returned his arms to his side, pulled from his thoughts when the green light framed the screen, his signal for all clear.
Nothing to hide.
A thought even the precise and invasive lenses and sensors couldn’t detect. If they could, would they believe him? Would he believe himself?
Today’s confession was in LA on the backlot of a once great studio, where the big show was filmed. He preferred the lot in Calgary, which was closer to home. But he was itinerant and the Loop made for a fast trip.
He stepped through the door into the lobby. The entryway, geometric panes of glass restored since the looting and the fires that preceded them had almost put the city out for good, reflected light throughout the room. It reminded him of the great windows of Notre Dame for some reason, though there was no stained glass. The height, perhaps.
He stopped to look up at the light. Couldn’t help himself. He let it seep into the skin. Penetrate the lines of his face. He stood there in a beam of sunshine palms out turned. Didn’t care what the production staff buzzing to and from corridors that led to the sound stages might think.
He took a deep breath, aware he couldn’t prepare for what the next few hours would bring. He would quiet his mind, even here. Especially here. He inhaled deeply, inhaled the earthy, welcome smell of the greenery in the lobby’s atrium. Blossoms of an orange tree. The sharpness of fertilizer. Dirt.
He had stood like this, in Notre Dame. Eyes closed. Transported. The light through the glass of those windows had done it then. Years ago. When it reopened, after the fire that burned through it. Before it was lost, forever, along with everything else in that great city.
“Father Diez, welcome.”
He opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize the voice. The woman with the headset stood at a respectful distance, the impatience of a production manager: the ponytail quickly pulled into place, the half smile that turned down slightly at the corners of her mouth because the muscles were so used to frowning, her one flash of eye contact, then the return of her gaze to her watch.
“Ready for me?” he asked.
“Right this way.” She was already walking. “The people have spoken.”
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