AMAZON's #1 KINDLE SEARCH RESULT FOR LIBERTARIAN SCIENCE FICTION

The Last American chronicles Praetor, a charming rebel, who tasks himself with disseminating contraband disks. On each disk, a centuries old woman, Liberty recounts and laments a forgotten past—One filled with autonomy and freedom, where skyscrapers pierced the sky and America thrived. Invaders have hacked the minds of the world’s citizens and thrust it into dystopia. Will Liberty and the few left who can think for themselves prevail or will the braindead masses be forever destined to mindlessly drone on?

I’ve got a secret to tell you: We've been invaded and no one cares.
One third of the world’s population are invaders and there are only a thousand of us—including you—cognizant of the truth. The invaders are not a pluralistic “who,” but a singular “what.” We, the enlightened, call it The Slime. It's a virus that hacks your brain and turns you into a parasite. It’s everywhere, all around you, and inside the brain of every bastard stealing your life to support himself.

I don't know where it comes from, it ain't from Earth. I know this because humans ain't parasites. And the world wasn't crazy until a coupla hundred years ago, before the skyscrapers got recycled and the UN deleted the all the books in the e-burning of 2040.

The world was a pretty cool place, man. Yeah, it's all on these Forbidden Disks.

Me? Call me Praetor. I'm a librarian for Secret Alexandria. I copy the Disks and pass em on to the uninfected. Where do I find 'em? I don't. They find me. Someone's been puttin 'em in my path, for twenty years now. I'm not a hundred percent on who's doin it, but I think it's the chick who narrates 'em. She's gotta be real old. Seventy-five? No man, more like a coupla hundred. Her intel's always current and it's been around forever. But her voice never changes –dark, silky and really pissed off. Her name is Liberty and I'm in love with her.

She spoke to me once in a dark alley. I couldn’t get a good look at her, but her voice was clear as it washed over me.

She said: “You are immune.”

I asked “Who are you?” but I already had a hunch.

After a long pause and with and with sadness in her voice, she said: “I'm The Last American.”

My heart broke, "I wanna help."

"You can't. You've been brainwashed..."

Shattered, I asked, “So, what're you after—a revolution?”

She kinda laughed and hissed at the same time and said: “Revolutions are petty. I'm after a renaissance...”

READ WHAT REVIEWERS ARE SAYING ABOUT THE LAST AMERICAN:

“...a novelette alike...The Moon is a Harsh Mistress...”

“...something is controlling what you believe... a quick but powerful read.”

“1984 meets A Clockwork Orange”

“If you're a Robert Heinlein fan...you should download this book.”

“If I didn't know better, I would have thought this was the writer of Sin City.”

“Read this book. Understand the situation.”

“...a nice satire on what happens to a civilization when it forgets to care about itself...”

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