Read an Excerpt from The Midnight Project, a Riveting New Science-Fiction Novel by Christy Climenhage

The best science-fiction writers of our time have not only created imaginative and inventive worlds, but they've also managed to tap into the zeitgeist in terms of societal commentary. This leads to lasting stories that can even portend the future, for good or ill. 

The Midnight Project by Christy Climenhage follows this tradition, with the novel set in a speculative near-future where the world is on the verge of collapse. In the midst of this, enigmatic billionaire Burton Sykes approaches a bespoke reproduction assistance clinic run by Raina and Cedric, two genetic engineers who have been cast out of their field. When he asks them to work for him and genetically engineer a way to help humanity survive, Raina - whose research has contributed to the decline - feels compelled to agree. Concerned about the true aims of this new benefactor, Cedric signs on as well, hoping to ensure their work isn't corrupted in the wrong hands.

It's a compelling novel about two friends who have to stick together as they make crucial, potentially world-altering decisions. And one that is expertly layered with suspense, tension, and stark reminders of the many ways that human "advancement" can lead us down a dangerous path. 

We've got a riveting excerpt from The Midnight Project to share with all of our Open Book readers, and you can find it below!

An excerpt from The Midnight Project by Christy Climenhage

An uneasy truce between Cedric and me followed Sykes’ visit. All I saw in front of me now were the vast and excellent reasons to do the project: it was going to happen anyway, we would do the best job, we could minimize the risks of the whole thing and it would make us rich, or at least we would feel rich compared to where we were now. Cedric just saw the risks, big and small, and thought we were better off walking away. I couldn’t completely fault him – he was being logical, maybe a little risk averse. But I was tired of playing it safe and keeping our heads down. We had been doing it for years and it was just driving us into a shadowy bankruptcy. 

It’s a funny thing about banks. When you’re giving them money, they will bend over backward to make it easy for you. You can transfer them vast sums while sitting on the toilet if you want, they don’t care. But when you owe them money, well, that’s a different thing entirely. We needed to go in-person to negotiate the roll-over of one of our loans, using the payment from the study to convince them to renew the terms. The bank was only ten minutes on foot and the shuttle we called didn’t arrive. We were going to be late, so we decided to walk. 

In retrospect, a grave error. It was a bright and sunny day. I paused to check out a storefront and Cedric ranged ahead. The whiff of saltwater and sea creature from the unseen harbour a few streets away combined with odours emanating from alleyways to make me feel like I was on an adventure. There weren’t many people out, but stores were open and I appreciated the in-your-face defiance of the displays boldly selling stuff no one needed to people who no longer walked by.

Though I seldom explored the city on foot, it was scaled to a size I appreciated, urban and grimy but not overwhelming. Most coastal cities were abandoned when the seas rose and the money moved inland. In comparison, Long Habour had grown. Rebuilt to take advantage of newly deep waters, it added city block after city block, as people moved north to escape the storms and the heat. It was re-named when the financial folks arrived, and a scientific and innovation hub thrived for a while. I could still detect the bones of past prosperity in the quasi-ruin I walked today. The city retained the feeling of a place that mattered even while small enough to escape notice. It felt good to be out.

I rounded a corner and saw Cedric several metres ahead, talking to three people who had him surrounded. No, wait. They were dressed in ragged pants but no shirts, and they looked wrong, their limbs too long, their heads too large. They were green. Hoppers. I froze.

I’d never seen them in real life and neither had Cedric. I could see Cedric talking to one – the leader? – but their voices were too low to make out. No one else was on the street. The storefronts provided no escape routes except into the stores themselves. Would the hoppers be bold enough to follow?

I stood there, suspended, waiting to see if Cedric could talk his way clear. The hoppers’ reputation was as bloodthirsty killers. Could the lore around their creation have exaggerated their nature? Minutes that felt like hours passed. I didn’t want to spook them, but I don’t think I could have approached if I had wanted to. I was rooted to the spot. 

Without warning, the one I suspected was their leader lunged. Cedric threw up his hands and fell to the side. The others circled, making loud gulping noises of encouragement. I screamed and the two gulpers turned toward me, running upright to close the gap. They grinned widely. My feet wouldn’t move. I just watched them come, two loping ungainly horrors. 

“Cedric!” I screamed.

Before they could reach me, sirens whined overhead. I’d never been so happy to see a police copter. It slowed and a loud, booming voice demanded that everyone put down their weapons (their teeth?) and lie on the ground. An officer leaned out the copter’s open side-door brandishing a firearm. 

The hoppers scattered, leaping up the sides of buildings and disappearing. The police copter followed the hoppers along the rooftops. Cedric jumped up and ran, blindly racing past without seeing me, retracing his steps back to our lab. I followed him, trying not to lag behind. 

I caught up with him in the lobby of our building. Cedric was breathing hard and clutching his arm, blood running down his sleeve, dripping from his fingers. His eyes were wide, his face stained red from a cut on his forehead. I pressed the elevator button and asked if he was all right. He tottered, and I grabbed him under his good arm and helped him into the lift. 

We spilled into the lab’s cheery reception. “Get the first aid kit!” I yelled at Susan, as Cedric stumbled and nearly fell. 

Susan, calm and immutable, stood up and surveyed the two of us. “Should I call the paramedics?” But we were already through to the intake room.

Even with my help Cedric fell on the couch. He was crying and bleeding, still holding his arm up. I looked around frantically for a towel. “Oh my god, Cedric, what just happened?”

I tried to get a hold of myself and survey the damage. He had cuts on his face and hands, with a deep laceration running down his right forearm. He was bleeding all over the white couch. He noticed, got up and sat on a leather chair instead. This feeble attempt at keeping our little pastel lives spotless unsettled me more than anything else.

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Christy Climenhage was born in southern Ontario, Canada, and currently lives in a forest north of Ottawa. In between, she has lived on four continents. She holds a PhD from Cambridge University in Political and Social Sciences, and Masters’ degrees from the Norman Paterson School of International Affairs at Carleton University (International Political Economy) and the College of Europe (European Politics and Administration). She loves writing science fiction that pushes the boundaries of our current society, politics and technology. When she is not writing, you can find her walking her dogs, hiking or cross-country skiing.