Excerpt:

Jacson's chauffeured limousine glided through midnight streets, a silent, chrome-embellished predator in search of prey. Pools of white halogen streetlight illuminated the restricted community and revealed a depressing lack of detail. It was a hygienic world, complete with an antiseptic-laden breeze. His mother would be pleased to see the street initiatives in effect so soon.

Clean enough to press my tongue to the curb and nary a germ would I taste.

The reception for his mother that evening had been deadly dull. All hail Rowena Clyne, Queen of the Fucking World. Tonight, after years of bribes, dirty politics and neglecting her children, Mother Dearest had celebrated her fifth anniversary of presidential ascension.

He'd escaped as early as possible and knew she would never miss him in the crush of admirers basking in her cool glory. He might as well be invisible for all the attention she paid him.

That's me. Invisible. A ghost of the ages gone before us, with dirty secrets in my pockets that can't be disinfected--