The magnetically powered bullet train described in this book is based on existing technology currently in use. However, because this is a work of fiction—in fact, one might even go so far as to call a good portion of it science fiction—the speed factor has been slightly pushed a few years into the future. We didn’t do this to be cute or mock the laws of physics for no good darn reason. Our editor thought it might be a significant story idea to have the train go really, really fast and we agreed with him. We hope that the one or two learned scientists out there who’ve actually read our book—or perhaps those among you who obsess over little details like this and compulsively look them up on the Internet—will choose to be merciful and realize that this is an entertainment, designed to thrill and chill and all that. It’s the same reason we also put ghosts in there. And lots of guys with guns. And a pop diva named Bethany Sin.
Obviously, the “2012” described in this book is not real, either.
Depending on when you read this, it will either be a few months in the future or many years in the past.
That’s fine with us, and here is why:
Most works of genre fiction that deal with interesting political subplots like the one we have in here tend to take place within some fairly undefined alternate reality without a fixed date attached to it. This is an oh-so-very-darn-clever way of making your story “timeless,” while automatically sidestepping the wrath of historical purists. That’s how most movies are too. That’s how you should read this one. It was necessary, however, because of the time-sensitive life history of Buck Carlsbad (in relation to the most appropriate election year on the Mayan calendar), to stick a “date” at the front of everything and hope for the best. We do not flatter ourselves that we’ve predicted the future of politics or public opinion in any shape, way, or form with the creation of Senator Bob Maxton and his whacky exploits—again, the idea of a rock star presidential candidate fast approaching his moment of glory was something that made the story work better. After all, it’s science fiction, man.
Now, on to the credits.
A lot of novels come to the printed page or Kindle screen with the help of many people. But most of us aren’t fortunate enough to have an editor as sharp as the one we worked with at Muholland Books.
That editor is John Schoenfelder.
John’s is our esteemed collaborator and chief brain cell, who set this project on track in the beginning and rode the bullet right alongside us to its rather spectacular end. His boundless creative energy, wild enthusiasm, and sage advice kept everything humming along at six hundred miles per as we completed the book in record time—less than six months from conception to final proofs, in case you’re wondering—and he kept us out of trouble when we were, many times, dangerously close to veering right off the deep end, bound for dark territory. John is the unsung “fourth Beatle” of our crazy little pop-lit power trio—or maybe he’s our Kim Fowley, or Phil Spector, or George Martin, or…well, you get the idea. We are very, very, very grateful for his contributions to our “first album” at nearly every phase of its creation. Nobody does it like Schoenfelder. He’s lightning and thunder wearing shoes. A total badass. Our sincere thanks to him.
Also, a big shout-out goes to Michael Pietsch, and the swell team at Little, Brown and Company who believed in a guy named Buck.
And a lot of sappy, sloppy special thanks to the following folks:
David Hale Smith, Trevor Engelson, David Boxerbaum, David Fischer, Sheryl Petersen, Dave Feldman, and Richard D. Thompson, all of whom are our agents and managers and lawyer, believe it or not. Miriam Parker, marketing director of Mulholland Books, who makes us look real good. (Darby Jones really does have a Facebook page, and it was all Miriam’s idea—go friend him!) Ruth Tross, our UK editor, for highly valuable observations and support. Lolita DePalma, our helpful intern at Little, Brown, for additional observations at the last minute. (For some reason, she called us on all the Terminator references too.) Peggy Freudenthal and Tracy Roe, our hard-working, long-suffering copyeditors, to whom we sincerely apologize. Ben Allen, associate copyeditor extraordinaire who stepped in at a crucial phase. Wes Miller, who calmly answered the phone all six hundred and seventy-nine times Stephen called the head office in a panic. Tom Piccirilli, who writes great books. Gaylen Ross, who wasn’t really in There’s Always Vanilla. Batman, just because we think he’s cool. And a bunch of other guys and gals we’re forgetting and who will be pissed off that we didn’t mention them. (Insert your name here.)
On a personal note, special thanks to Patrick’s wife, Eebin, and their three little hellions, Tai, Keke, and Easton.
In addition, thank you so very much to Marcus’s parents, Maria and Tom, and his sister, Kristin, for supporting the strange, the dark, and the terrifying every step of the way.
Stephen would like to thank Patrick and Marcus and John for inviting him aboard, and also an amazing artist cat named Rock Romano, who is his father and best friend.
And Scott Hiles.
He came up with the speed tunnel, just when we needed another killer concept to make the train go really, really fast.
Thanks for reading.
Please let us know if you want another one.
We’ll totally write it.
—Patrick, Marcus, and Stephen