Five Minds Read online

  ‘My mind is officially blown! This clever, twisty debut really delivers. Gripping, well written and intriguing on every level’

  Sarah Pearse, author of The Sanatorium

  ‘Guy Morpuss is set to become a powerhouse in speculative crime. Tense, dark, gritty and high-concept, it’s a feast of a book’

  Helen Fields, author of Perfect Crime

  ‘Five Minds spearheads an exciting new trend in speculative fiction, with a mind-stretching and irresistible premise deftly spun into a twisty, page-turning action-thriller. Clever, cool and thoroughly entertaining’

  Philippa East, author of Little White Lies

  ‘Consider my single mind blown! An astonishing and original concept, deftly executed. This novel cries out for a screen adaptation’

  David Jackson, author of The Resident

  ‘A whip-smart, searing debut with a story which grinds into the mind like cursed clockwork. I really loved it’

  Matt Wesolowski, author of Six Stories

  ‘I brilliantly inventive, pacy debut with a great premise. A Maze Runner-type world of complex death games and riddles that keep you guessing to the very end. If you liked The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, you’ll love this’

  Eve Smith, author of The Waiting Rooms

  ‘A dazzling, thrilling roller-coaster ride: five strangers forced to share a body in a resource-depleted future find themselves caught up in a murder mystery. Full of ideas and excitement, it’s a gripping, fast-paced read’

  Alex Pavesi, author of Eight Detectives

  ‘Part Blade Runner, part Agatha Christie, this mind-bending, pacy debut gives a whole new meaning to the locked-room mystery. Five Minds deserves to be huge’

  Imran Mahmood, author of You Don’t Know Me

  ‘Thrilling dystopian sci-fi meets twisty murder mystery in this mind-bendingly original debut. Five Minds is nothing short of a cross-genre masterpiece’

  Adam Christopher, author of Empire State

  ‘Amazingly addictive. A wicked, twisty blend of The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle and Blade Runner’

  Kate Griffin, author of Kitty Peck and the Music Hall Murders

  ‘I loved Five Minds – the worldbuilding of Gibson with the pace of The Running Man. A fantastic ride and a brilliant debut!’

  Tim Glister, author of Red Corona

  ‘The ultimate whodunit conundrum, this amazing concept blew my mind from the start. A thrilling, intelligent read’

  Janice Hallett, author of The Appeal

  ‘Extraordinary. Mindblowing, original and fiendishly clever. I’ll be thinking about this book for a very long time’

  Victoria Selman, author of Snakes and Ladders

  ‘Five Minds literally blew my mind. Devoured in twenty-four hours, it will take some dislodging from the top of my “best reads of 2021” pile’

  Robert Scragg, author of What Falls Between the Cracks

  ‘A gripping, clever and innovative story: this book sucked me into its dark, futuristic world where nothing is as it seems and no one can be trusted. The ending left me reeling! A fantastic debut’

  Louise Mumford, author of Sleepless

  ‘Imagine an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, The Hunger Games, Sophie’s Choice and a whodunit under one cover. I loved it’

  Jenny O’Brien, author of Fallen Angel

  ‘I loved the brilliant, brain-grabbing Five Minds. An extraordinary concept with a spanking crime mystery at its heart’

  Chris Lloyd, author of The Unwanted Dead

  ‘Think The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle meets The Running Man. So intelligent and yet so easy to read. Totally recommend’

  S.E. Moorhead, author of Witness X

  ‘Inventive, innovative and imaginative. Five Minds was a trip that had me thrilled and terrified in equal measure. Utterly mind-bending’

  J.M. Hewitt, author of The Night Caller

  ‘A real feat of the imagination: wildly original and a thrilling read’

  Louisa Scarr, author of Last Place You Look

  ‘Fiendishly clever and dashed with humour. You’re pulled into a world that is fully immersive. One of the most original books I’ve ever read’

  Chris McDonald, author of A Wash of Black

  ‘Clever, twisty, insightful. It reminded me of a cross between Michael Marshall Smith and Iain M. Banks, and that at its best sci-fi raises themes that shine a light back on the contemporary world through a great story. Brilliant’

  James Mylet, author of Lex

  ‘Imaginative, twisty and brilliantly fun. I loved each of the expertly drawn characters and their journey through a world where time is everything. Guy Morpuss has crafted a deliciously devourable tale that will have you on the edge of your seat’

  Lynsey James, author of Just The Way You Are

  FIVE MINDS

  GUY MORPUSS

  First published in Great Britain in 2021 by

  VIPER, part of Serpent’s Tail,

  an imprint of Profile Books Ltd

  29 Cloth Fair

  London

  EC1A 7JQ

  www.serpentstail.com

  Copyright © Guy Morpuss, 2021

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Printed and bound in Great Britain by

  Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978 1 78816 5662

  Export ISBN 978 1 78816 5679

  eISBN 978 1 78283 7268

  To Julie, El and Zog

  ARE YOU READY TO DIE?

  NEED TO EARN TIME?

  BORED WITH THE REAL WORLD?

  ESCAPE TO OAKBURY FLATS DEATH PARK

  Walk the tightrope between life and death Indulge your wildest fantasies … or most morbid desires

  DREAMS OF REALITY INCTM PROMISES YOU

  * State-of-the-art game booths

  * Forty-seven arenas

  * Over 150 unique and personalised games

  * Every genre – historic, fantasy, futuristic, role-playing and more!

  * No limits on time earned – leave with a new life

  * Concessionary rates for end-of-lifers*

  IT’S BETTER TO BURN OUT THAN TO FADE AWAY

  * T & Cs apply

  Terms and Conditions

  1. Players must be 21 (twenty-one) or over.

  2. WARNING: Probable side effects of participation in games include death, loss of limb(s), paralysis, post-traumatic stress disorder or catatonia.

  3. Body disposal fee of 1 (one) month required to be deposited before entry. Refund available on exit if unused. In the event of death, credit will be given for any body parts that remain in saleable condition.

  4. ‘End-of-lifers’ may enter the park for a reduced fee of 2 (two) months, and clause 6 below does not apply to them.

  5. In these conditions, for the purposes of clauses 4 and 6, ‘end-of-lifers’ means: a. HEDONISTS in their final year of life (41–42 years of age);

  b. ANDROIDS in their final year of life (79–80 years of age);

  c. COMMUNES in the last year of their fifth life (141–142 years of age);

  d. WORKERS (having no fixed expiration date) cannot qualify as End-of-Lifers.

  6. IMPORTANT NOTICE: Before entry, CGov requires players to provide psychological certification confirming that they have fully understood and been c
ounselled as to the risks of entering the park. Communes must provide such certification (separately) in relation to at least three (3) of their five (5) personalities.

  7. WARNING: a. By entering into the park you confirm and acknowledge that you understand that death in the game booths is permanent.

  b. This condition does not apply to communes in their first 4 (four) lives, who upon death will forfeit any time remaining in their current life and any time won in the park. Other lives will not be affected.

  8. Dreams of Reality IncTM is not affiliated with any arenas and accepts no liability for death or physical/mental injury to players, howsoever caused.

  ALEX

  DAY ONE

  22:00–2:00

  What to call it?

  Waking. Suiting up. Slipping on the skin. Uploading, downloading. Body bounce. Mindswap.

  Schizos are still searching for a word that makes it feel better, more glamorous. Normal, even. But there isn’t one. It doesn’t matter what name you use, it still seems like someone’s dragging your brain from the base of your spine to your skull – and then kicking it for good measure.

  Once the shock has passed, my first question is: where exactly has Sierra left us? The good thing is that there are only so many places you can dump a body in a death park.

  We had voted four-to-one to take this trip. The others had thought it a chance to add value and have some fun before the first trade-in. I had voted no. But there was at least one aspect I appreciated: being in a contained environment limited Sierra’s options.

  The protocols are clear: before dropping out, you leave the host in a safe place, lying down, alone. A locked door, food and water nearby. In twenty-five years I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times all those had coincided. I’ve woken indoors, outdoors, in prison cells, on public transport, half lying in a frozen pond, and on one memorable occasion on the deck of a freighter starting a ten-day transatlantic voyage.

  No amount of time fines seem to make any difference to Sierra. Sometimes I think she’s trying to kill us.

  My second question on waking is: what level of ethanol is flowing through my bloodstream? You’d have thought that someone who lives their life in four-hour slots wouldn’t want to waste half their time in a drunken stupor. But we all fight our demons in different ways. And Sierra’s demons are different from the rest of ours.

  Even with my eyes shut I could tell the answer to the first question. I was in the same place as the previous three days. Voices, laughter, music, the clink of glasses: the Diamond Room at the Excelsior, the only upmarket bar in the death park. Quite why Sierra had started frequenting it I wasn’t sure, but it was a step up from her usual haunts.

  The answer to the second question was 0.235 per cent blood alcohol. That’s a bottle of whisky in four hours. Or three bottles of champagne. Good going even by Sierra’s standards. Serious intoxication, but not the sort of level that would have had alerts sounding and the autonomous control systems kicking in. I brought the inhibitors and reclean up. Twenty-five years ago they were state-of-the-art, but they’d been well used and we hadn’t spent much on them in the last few years. Now using them felt like someone was scouring my veins from the inside while shaving my eyeballs with a potato peeler.

  I sat still for a minute while they did their work. Eyes closed. Considering. That was two breaches of protocol on waking. Should I let it slide? What was the point of taking some of Sierra’s time? She was never going to change. Then again, why should I let her get away with it? At the very least, the others ought to know.

  I logged on.

  Re: Sierra. Breach of Protocol 2.08: unsafe wake. Breach of Protocol 3.17: ethanol 0.235 per cent. Data file attached. Request: One-hour time fine. Votes to be logged by end of cycle. Alex.

  I was about to log off, but then added a personal message.

  FFS Sierra, I’m sick of clearing up after you. Do this to yourself if you want, but don’t drag the rest of us into it. Make sure we’re clean and safe before you drop out. We need to see a new attitude in our next life, or I will be voting for some serious downtime. A.

  I breathed out, calmer now, and with alcohol levels falling fast.

  I opened my eyes.

  I was slumped in a corner seat, humanity swirling around me, an upturned champagne flute dangling from one hand. I let it fall to the sodden carpet.

  A low table separated me from a blonde woman in a green dress who was looking at me expectantly. She smiled. My heart sank. What had Sierra left me with now?

  ‘Alex Du Bois,’ she said. ‘You’re back. I’m Jessica.’

  A message from Sierra appeared.

  You’re welcome, Alex. Don’t screw this up. Or do, first, if you have the time. You can probably still remember how. She is rather lovely, although we know from Montreal that blondes aren’t your type. She’s rich and she’s greedy. And not as good as she thinks. We need this. Sierra. x

  I sighed and scanned the woman.

  JESSICA ENGELS

  Hedonist

  Expiry:

  42 years

  Age:

  41.98 years

  Credit:

  3.27 years

  ‘I don’t know what Sierra’s promised you, but I’m not interested,’ I said.

  She pouted. ‘Sierra told me you’d be fun. She said you like playing games.’

  ‘Usually. But I don’t like the stakes on offer in the park.’

  ‘Then why did you come?’

  ‘I wasn’t given a choice. But it doesn’t mean that I have to play their sick games.’

  ‘Not entirely true.’ She leaned across the table and touched my hand. ‘Sierra signed you up. See.’

  Challenge accepted. New York Treasure Hunt: Jessica Engels (hedonist) vs Alex Du Bois (commune), to be completed within 24h.

  What was Sierra thinking? This wasn’t part of the plan.

  I sat back. ‘You’re obviously good at this, Jessica. No one earns three years in a death park unless they have some skill; and a lot of luck. Your luck won’t hold, though. I don’t want to be the one to kill you. Cash in and go home.’

  ‘She didn’t tell me you were scared.’

  ‘Tired. Not scared,’ I said. ‘This body is almost done, and until we trade in it’s worth virtually nothing. What will you get if you beat us? A few months? If I lose it’s a couple of weeks in stasis and then we’re back in a shiny new body. If you lose, you’re gone for good. You’re chasing scraps of time, and the odds aren’t in your favour. We’ll just waste it, anyway. Mike wants enhanced quadriceps so he can run faster. Ben wants new gaming implants. It’s all frivolous stuff. But it’s all you have. Take your time, walk away, and live it.’

  Jessica hesitated. There was a flicker of fear behind her eyes, but then the smile was back. She shook her head.

  ‘Spoken like someone who knows they’re going to lose,’ she said. ‘We have a deal. You play or you forfeit. Which is it?’ She stood, and stretched out a hand.

  I took it, not because I like human contact, but because I like information. If I was going to have to do this I wanted to know as much as I could. Her hand was warm and slightly sweaty. Ninety-eight beats per minute – too high for someone who had been sitting down. She was scared. Good.

  She frowned. ‘You look the same as her … but different somehow. Your eyes show someone else. You schizos might be used to it, swapping minds every few hours, but it’s weird to watch.’

  ‘Not as weird as you heds – giving up half your life for a few years of luxury.’

  ‘You gave up your body.’

  I laughed. ‘If you’d seen it you would have known it wasn’t worth much. And I don’t need it. Whatever happens today, I’ll still be here long after you’re gone.’

  She looked away and bit her upper lip. Her grip remained firm.

  We threaded our way through the crowd looking like lovers after a quarrel, keen to find somewhere quiet to make up.

  But I had no intention of taking up
Sierra’s suggestion of romance before work. I was going to kill Jessica as quickly as I could.

  •

  The nearest arena was two blocks away, on the ground floor of a crumbling high-rise. No one wants to live in a death park, so apart from the basics they are not well maintained.

  It was dark outside, with most of the streetlights broken. A drone screamed low overhead, its spotlight catching us for a moment. It circled once, then moved on.

  We picked our way carefully through the potholed remains of what had once been the main street, concrete dust crunching under our feet. Across from the arena was a club – flashing lights and the beat of music emerging through cracked windows. People partying while they waited to die.

  The doors to the arena slid open at our approach and the stench of sweat and death hit us. There was a souvenir stall just inside, selling T-shirts and hoodies emblazoned with slogans such as: GREETINGS FROM THE DEATH PARK AND I CAME, I SAW, I KILLED. One I didn’t get: REVILLAGIGEDO ISLAND: COME FOR THE NAME, STAY FOR THE GAME. What was that about?

  The reception desk was staffed by a girl with pink hair and a T-shirt that said ARENA X: COME DIE WITH US! She looked up and scanned us.

  ‘Ms Engels. Mr Du Bois. Welcome to Arena X.’ A hatch opened in the counter in front of her. ‘You’ll want these.’

  She reached in and handed each of us a pair of trainers.

  ‘Ms Engels, Room D. Mr Du Bois, Room L. The hunt will start five minutes after you enter. Our fee to the winner will be ten per cent. You also get a choice of a T-shirt or branded water bottle. For the loser,’ she pulled a face, ‘well, body disposal is free.’ It seemed a well-practised line.

  I followed Jessica past the counter and down a corridor lined with doors on either side. As we reached a door marked D, it slid open. Jessica hesitated, as though about to say something, but then stepped inside. I walked on. What do you say to someone you are about to kill?

  Room L was a standard games booth. About three metres in diameter, the walls, floor and ceiling all black. A small seat protruded from one wall next to an open drawer. I sat down and changed my shoes, dropping my own into the drawer. It slid shut. I stood, and the seat retracted into the wall.