After a devastating terror attack shocks the city of New York, Versia Ikakala watches on his television the aftermath of the attack. His cell phone blows up as the bomb that went off and killed 700 people was supposed to be in the possession of him and his friends. That’s a massive blunder. Versia is a Psychic, a group of humans blessed with many abilities by an ancient alien metal called “Psychanium.”

In another location, Isazisi Irving, also a Psychic, and the leader of Providence, an international Psychic-led intelligence organization tasked with handling existential and extraterrestrial threats watches on television from his office as a bomb created by his organization was used in the worst terror attack on U.S. soil in decades. His phone vibrates as every world leader with his number wants answers. He, of course, doesn’t have them. Probably not the best time to be the director of the self-proclaimed “most-resourced intelligence agency on the planet.” Versia and Isazisi know New York won’t be the last attack, and they, along with the other Psychics must make their next move.

…

That’s only the first third of it, but I think it’s enough.

Some say that you need at least four to six words to write the world’s shortest story. But, I took only one word that too made of two letters. The book has an apt explanation of the story as well as the pics of the Record where it is mentioned.

That’s a lotta words in service of a TWO-LETTER story.

Ron Blamey is one of those countless, whose lives remain in the hands of a defeated but necessary American investment. A life not yet defined, the once remembered, a family loved, the goal, a future path, of mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters, of the American Patriot, a simple story can best be shared through the eyes of the dweller, the one. A life’s saga of hopes and disappointments, of peace and disharmony, of comfort and distress, of trust and fear. Amongst the shuttering, a cause still dithers about, in the opaque, sooty memoirs of love and harmony in purpose and deed.

…

There’s more, if you’re a glutton for punishment.