Oct 30, 2017

NoQS Agent Round: Infinity Line

Genre: Adult Upmarket with speculative elements
Word Count: 80,000

My MC and MA are dressed as:

Lorelei didn’t make time to plan, so she came from the lab dressed as a mad scientist: goggles, gloves, dirty lab coat, and a pocketful of syringes with sharp needles. Number 93, dressed as a Bubbling Beaker, has been trying to get her attention for months. He does not know he should be afraid.


The future is female. Just ask biochemist Lorelei Worthington who hunts men and studies them in the name of science.

Lorelei adores her work domesticating male subjects, where she expertly doses them with hormone blockers, poking the thinnest of needles into that musky spot just there below the ear. Or she did adore it until subject Number 93 loses control and bombs her lab, killing her best and only friend and destroying a decade of research. Hell bent on revenge, Lorelei refocuses her experiments. Instead of merely taming men, she joins a movement to drastically reduce the percentage of males in the human population. Starting with Number 93.

As she struggles to kill before being killed, Lorelei finds herself on a spiraling path driven by angry women eager to sacrifice half the world population to save the rest, to tame and corral men like cattle, and to take baby boys from their mothers, all on a quest for peace. So much depends upon Lorelei’s work. Soon after she finds Number 93, Lorelei learns she is pregnant and for the first time in her life she cares about her own future. But the future she’s helping to create won’t let her have this baby. And if she stops her efforts to chemically control men, violent males will completely wipe out society before anything resembling peace can begin.

INFINITY LINE is told from the viewpoints of multiple characters: the scientist who tries to save humanity, a captive old man with a year left to live, and a willful female leader with everything but love who tries to stop this man’s scheduled death.

First 250:

Hunting men was simple. Lorelei licked a splash of ethanol off her wrist, knowing her prey watched her, hungry. She peeled her forearm up from the sticky bar and scribbled in her notebook: Tongue exposure works better than cleavage.

Too bad she couldn’t publish this statistical certainty in her research papers. Or report how the endless supply of eager men certainly simplified her experiments. She grinned back at the boy, ten years her junior, though not likely one of her biochemistry students.

Yeah, that would be awkward.

He thinks he’s hunting me, she wrote.

The tips of her fingernails rubbed the gooseflesh on her shoulder. This kid could be number 93. How long must she wait for the college punk to come over and rub up against her?

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three—and the boy began his prowl, feeling her gravitational field, pulled relentlessly toward the professor who sat still as stone. Easy bait.

Two point five seconds
. Faster than Number 92 by almost 30 seconds. When Lorelei made eye contact, 93 linked to her. Men. They all want it. And when they got this close to getting it, they were so damn easy to control.

Soon-to-be-male-number-93 stepped in behind her. He smelled of vapes, vanilla, and that oily metal of free weights.

“May I?” he asked.

Ah, manners. Always a nice, though unnecessary, touch. He didn’t wait for a response.

His whiskered face pushed through her border wall, a mere millimeter of air, and grazed her neck.

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