Burner by Mike Trigg
About Burner:
Shane Stoller has just been arrested for domestic terrorism, accused of being the mastermind
behind the online profile Burner_911—the anonymous leader of a massive populist movement.
Chloe Corbin has just been abducted by Burner_911’s followers in a lawless uprising on the streets of San Francisco, targeted as the socialite daughter of a tech billionaire. What nobody knows is that Shane and Chloe are secretly in love despite coming from opposite worlds. Plagued with regret but unable to communicate with his followers from prison, Shane tries desperately to find a way to save Chloe from the forces he has unleashed. From her own captivity, Chloe becomes more sympathetic to Burner_911’s cause—and transitions from victim to conspirator in an effort to free herself and exonerate Shane.
Part tragic love story, part mind-bending psychological thriller, Burner dives headfirst into the
modern zeitgeist of politically motivated disinformation, toxic internet subcultures, and our
continuing need for belonging, purpose, and love in an age of distorted online personas.
Excerpt:
I’m not sure yet if this is a memoir or a manifesto, a love letter or a suicide note. Maybe it’s just my version of events. To explain how I got here.
Maybe it’s something more. I’m not sure there’s really much difference
anyway.
A memoir requires a story to tell, and I have plenty of those.
A manifesto requires an audience, and mine is unreachable right now.
A love letter requires a recipient, but I don’t know if she will ever talk
to me again.
A suicide note is the easiest—lazy, even. But for that you need conviction, or you look like a dumbass.
They don’t have me on watch yet, so I still have options. Maybe I
could get shoelaces, but those have never seemed strong enough. Pills
would be better. Cleaner.
Anyway, I’ll find out eventually. It’ll reveal itself as I write more. I
definitely have a lot to say. Today was a big day. It exceeded my wildest
dreams. But I knew they would come for me. I was prepared.
Sort of.
Actually . . . I’m not sure I was prepared at all. It should have occurred
to me that I’d be totally cut off, like I am now—no connection to the
outside world. I should have been ready for that. At least a scheduled post
or one of those out-of-office notices or something. And they probably
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found a bunch of evidence I should have gotten rid of by now. My bad.
I know this much: I was never supposed to be here this long in the first
place. I’m already on borrowed time. So, whatever happens, happens. All
I can do is wait.
And while I wait, I’ll write.
Writing has always been an escape for me. Helping me stay sane,
assuming I still am. Everyone needs a distraction. Some guys work out,
some guys play video games, some guys binge porn. I write. It’s gotten
me in trouble all my life. It’s why I’m here, I guess. But prison will also
be an opportunity. A chance to think about everything that’s happened.
All the bad luck and bad decisions that got me here. Everything I’ve been
through.
But first, I’ve got to tell Wayne.
He showed up ten minutes after my arrest and announced to everyone—including me—that he’s my lawyer. I don’t even know the guy,
never met him before today. And he’s old as hell. His name is Wayne,
for Christ’s sake. But he says he’s a believer, and I don’t know any other
lawyers. He’s mostly just telling me not to say anything to anyone about
any of this. No shit, right? But it seems like he knows what he’s doing, so
I guess he’s better than the public defender.
He also made sure I got my own cell, but they would have done
that anyway. The holding cell was already crawling with BurnOutz by
the time I got here—believers devoted to the cause, easy to spot by their
“Plan B” tattoos. So they couldn’t put me in there. If the other guys
found out who I was, it would have started a riot. It’s crazy, the power of
it all. People I’ve never met, following my every word.
Honestly, I never meant for it all to get to this point. Never thought
so many people would get on board. Drawing inspiration from my anger.
Taking it further than I ever imagined. I feel bad for the people who
died. They didn’t deserve that. I don’t know what they deserved, but they
didn’t deserve that. Sometimes shit happens. We never know what fate
has in store for us. That’s all it was: fate. Those people were in the wrong
place at the wrong time. I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did.
Now, none of that matters anymore. All I can think about is Chloe.
She’s the only thing keeping me going.
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About Mike Trigg:
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