Peaceful Genocide Blog Tour
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Peaceful Genocide by J.A. Reynolds
Publication date: November 25th 2013
Genres: Science Fiction, Thriller, Young Adult
Goodreads | Amazon
Seventeen-year-old Mitzi and Deuce can recall how many drops of water were on a leaf from a rainstorm five years ago and conversations from last week, month, or year. They have the ability to remember every second of everyday—since birth.This gift has blessed Mitzi with a history of being sexually assaulted by researchers and abused by her own parents. She trusts no one. Likes no one. Deuce, however, is a high school standout. His gift has made him a superstar on the football field and his memory promises him endless opportunities.
When they both end up at an Alzheimer’s research facility under false proviso, they quickly realize this place isn’t what it seems to be. They endure crazy military-style tests, are forcefully drugged, and complete real-life simulations that haunt them.
Mitzi and Deuce have no idea what the researchers want to do with them or their memories. But one thing is clear: the researchers will go to any lengths to get what they want.
About the author
JA Reynolds lives in the Midwest with a normal family, raising a normal daughter, with some abnormal pets. It’s extraordinarily ordinary.
Excerpt from the book
Mitzi
jogged down to her room. She didn’t care what Mark had said. She didn’t care
that Deuce thought all of this research was for the greater good. She’d been in
enough bad research situations to know when something was awry. And Mark and
his people smelled more than fishy. They were outright foul.
She
put her hand in the scanner, waited for the door to slide open, and then froze
mid-step when she looked up at a willowy, tall blonde standing in the middle of
the room. She looked familiar, but Mitzi couldn’t place where she’d seen her.
Odd. Mitzi hated the blips that seemed to be missing from her memory. That
wasn’t normal.
“Who
are you? And what the hell are you doing in my room?”
The
woman’s glossy pink lips curled in a smile. “This might be your room, Mitzi,
but this is my facility. I have the right to be wherever I want, whenever I
want.”
Mitzi’s
expression went from flat, to flat-out pissed. She took a cautionary step,
casting her eyes over the rest of her empty room. “What do you want?”
“I’m
Ikea.” The woman held out her hand. Mitzi looked at it and grunted. “I’ve heard
you’re having some trouble with the study. Would you like to talk to me about
it?”
“Va
te faire foutre.” Mitzi could get used to the cursing in a foreign language
thing. It made her feel better and no one knew what she was saying.
Ikea’s
eyes went wide. “French? Qu’il lest intelligent.”
Fuck.
Mitzi bit her bottom lip. “Qué hay
de espanol?”
“Sí.”
Mitzi's
temper flared. “Che ne dici di italiano?”
Ikea’s
eyes glimmered like a predatory cat. “Naturalmente.”
Great.
Mitzi’s breath rushed out. The woman spoke four languages—and probably more.
Not that Mitzi wanted to stand there any longer and find out. After several
minutes of staring each other down, Mitzi spoke. “Why do you think I’ll talk to
you, because you’re a woman?”
A
bubbly laughed escaped her lips. “No, actually. I’d hoped you’d listen to me
because I am one.”
“Sorry.”
Mitzi folded her arms. “Not interested. I need to check out of here. ASAP.”
Ikea’s
perfectly round blue eyes widened for a brief second before she gave a soft
smile. “So then,” she said in an annoying preschool-teacher-type voice, “no
talking?”
Mitzi
shrugged and pushed past the woman, heading for her foot locker. She wrenched
it open and yanked out her clothes. “You can talk,” she grumbled. “Doesn’t mean
I’ll be listening.”
Ikea’s
four-inch heals clicked on the floor as she maneuvered to Mitzi. Mitzi froze
when the woman’s cold hand landed on her own.
“Don’t
touch me.” She jerked her hand away and continued stuffing her clothes into her
bag.
“I
know about you, Mitzi.” The woman’s voice was uncharacteristically calm and
soothing.
“So?”
She slammed the lid to the footlocker, swinging her bag around her shoulder.
“Lots of people know about me.”
“Do
they know that you killed a researcher during a study or that you tried to
cripple your father?”
Mitzi
halted at the door and half-turned to see Ikea, her jaw agape. “How do you know
that?”
“I
know everything. About all of you. This study requires me to know the most
intimate details of your lives. I even know about your scars, Mitzi. And how
you got them.”
Heat
flared in her cheeks. “How do I get out of here?”
The
attractive blonde shook her dainty head. “You don’t understand. This study
depends on you. All of you.”
Something
tight constricted around Mitzi’s body from behind. She jerked, but couldn’t
move. Her legs kicked and flailed, but the squeeze continued.
“What—”
She couldn’t breathe. The aired was sucked right out of her lungs.
Ikea’s
face blurred. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really…I am.”
Lights
out.
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