The Dark Intercept

The Dark Intercept

by Julia Keller

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The Dark Intercept by Julia Keller is the beginning of a “riveting” (Emmy Laybourne) science fiction adventure that challenges the voluntary surrender of liberties for the perception of safety.

When the state controls your emotions, how hard will you fight to feel free?

In a radiant world of endless summer, the Intercept keeps the peace. Violet Crowley, the sixteen-year-old daughter of New Earth’s Founding Father, has spent her life in comfort and safety. Her days are easy thanks to the Intercept, a crime-prevention device that monitors emotion. But when her long-time crush, Danny Mayhew, gets into a dangerous altercation on Old Earth, Violet launches a secret investigation to find out what he's hiding. An investigation that will lead her to question everything she's ever known about Danny, her father, and the power of the Intercept.

Much like the device itself, The Dark Intercept will get under your skin.

The Dark Intercept grabbed me from the first page and shook me until the last.” —Emmy Laybourne, author of Berserker, Sweet, and the Monument 14 trilogy

“A rare, literary feat.” —Gennifer Albin, New York Times bestselling author of the Crewel World trilogy

The Dark Intercept is a Library and Information Technology Association (LITA) Excellence in Children’s and Young Adult Science Fiction Notable List selection!

At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780765387646
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Publication date: 10/31/2017
Series: The Dark Intercept , #1
Sold by: Macmillan
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 304
File size: 4 MB
Age Range: 13 - 18 Years

About the Author

JULIA KELLER, winner of the Pulitzer Prize and former cultural critic at the Chicago Tribune, is the author of many books for adults and young readers, including A Killing in the Hills, the first book in the Bell Elkins series and winner of the Barry Award for Best First Novel, and The Dark Intercept. Keller has a Ph.D. in English literature from Ohio State and was awarded Harvard University’s Nieman Fellowship. She was born in West Virginia and lives in Ohio.
Julia Keller, winner of the Pulitzer Prize and former cultural critic at the Chicago Tribune, is the author of many books for adults and young readers, including A Killing in the Hills, the first book in the Bell Elkins series and winner of the Barry Award for Best First Novel (2013); Back Home; and The Dark Intercept. Keller has a Ph.D. in English literature from Ohio State and was awarded Harvard University’s Nieman Fellowship. She was born in West Virginia and lives in Ohio.

Read an Excerpt


Moment No. 327

She watched.

It was her job to watch, but Violet would have watched anyway. She leaned over her keyboard, slinging her body so far forward that her nose almost bumped the screen. Her heart was jumping around in her chest. She could feel the sweat pooling in her palms.

The short, dirty person zipping across the picture on her monitor was named Tommy Tolliver. His nickname was Tin Man.

Violet knew those things because the data showed up in a small square box next to his face on the screen. The information only stayed for a flicker of an instant before it was updated, but that was long enough. In livid orange letters, the box told her that he was sixteen years old and really, really scared.

So scared that he was running as fast as he could through the twisted filigree of streets on Old Earth. So scared that his pulse rate was leaping up and up, and his thoughts were a crazy gray tangle.

The cop who was chasing him was named Danny Mayhew. Violet didn't need a box next to his face to tell her that. Which was a good thing, because there wasn't one. The Intercept didn't track cops. It only kicked in for the bad guys. Not the good guys.

Tin Man was fast. But Danny was also fast. In fact, Danny was a tick faster. Which meant he was catching up.

Violet sucked in a deep breath. She didn't let it out again right away. She was too focused on the action in that strange and distant place to remember to breathe. When she did remember, the breath came out as a frustrated sigh. She used her thumb to flick impatiently at a triangular slice of dark blond hair that had drifted onto her forehead.

Oh, Danny, she thought. Not again. What are you doing down there, anyway?

Tin Man swerved into a filthy alley. It was always raining on Old Earth. Or at least it seemed to be on those not-very-frequent occasions when Violet was required to look down there. The rain draped the place in a greasy sheen, slickening the bricks.

Tin Man's luck suddenly left him.

He slid. He slid hard, and he wasn't able to catch himself before he crashed into a row of four garbage cans. They were the ancient gray aluminum kind, flimsy and dented. The kind you never saw on New Earth.

Tin Man bounced, teetered, and fell on his narrow butt. The computer connection was excellent and so Violet heard the whump sound crisply and clearly. She winced, even though it was happening to him and not to her, and even though it was happening thousands of miles away on Old Earth. She knew what it felt like to trip and fall on your butt. Everybody did, right?

Somehow, despite the fall, Tin Man managed to hold on to the ragged cloth sack he was carrying. The sack was tied off at the top by a little drawstring that looked like a brown shoelace. Violet watched him jam it into his front pocket with frantic fingers. He tried to scramble to his feet again, but he was trapped in a sticky makeshift maze of upended cans and still-wobbling lids, plus assorted smelly shreds and rotting lumps and gooey rinds. His feet kept skidding out from under him. His butt bounced against the grimy ground over and over again.

Tin Man felt helpless. Violet knew how he felt because a rolling ribbon of flashing numbers at the bottom of her screen told her.

It wasn't that the Intercept could read his mind — or anyone's mind. It couldn't. It didn't have to.

By riffling through the archives of his past emotions and using the algorithm to apply those emotions to the present situation, the Intercept extrapolated the probabilities of his current feeling and, in less than a trillionth of a second, selected the most likely one and sent it via numeric code to Violet's computer. Tin Man knew he looked ludicrous — big tough gangster-boy, marooned in moist trash. That made him feel vulnerable and ridiculous, which in turn made him feel extremely pissed off.

And a pissed-off Tin Man was a dangerous Tin Man.

Violet leaned even closer to the screen.

Let him go, Danny, she thought. Just let him go.

And then she lectured herself: Yeah, right. Like that's gonna happen. Get a clue, girl. Danny never backed off from a fight or gave up on a chase. Never had, never would. She understood, because she was the same way — but that didn't make it any easier to watch.

Anxiety was skittering madly through Violet's body. What would Tin Man do? Her throat felt dry and tight. She couldn't remember the last time she had blinked. She was afraid to blink. Afraid she might miss whatever was going to happen next, because everything was happening so fast.

Tin Man groped in the waistband of his jeans, twisting and grunting and yanking. The slab gun had been digging into his skin while he ran, its louvered sides sharp as a shovel's edge, its muzzle pricking him like a hypodermic. Violet could almost feel the slab gun against her own skin, even though she'd never touched one, much less hidden one in her pants.

Tin Man's mind, according to the box that followed him on the screen, simmered with petty irritations as well as great fear, a fear that spread out over the rest of his thoughts like a black rainbow.

A holster would have made the gun easier to carry, but a holster would've been harder to hide, especially on a body as skinny as his. So Tin Man had carried it in his trousers, despite the very real risk that his body temperature would rise high enough to trigger the thing.

Violet had read about that. And she'd seen pictures, too — hideous, look-away-now pictures, filled with liquid and anguish. People sometimes forgot about the heat-sensitive firing filament, and in a terrible tenth of a second, the slab gun would blow a hole in their side so big that they could reach in and rearrange vital organs like cushions on a sofa.

Danny was coming up fast. Violet, right along with Tin Man, could hear the rapid and relentless smacksplat smacksplat smacksplat sounds of his boots as they struck the wet bricks.

Violet watched. She had to wait until the last possible second to intervene. Intervention had to be absolutely necessary. She couldn't be wrong.

Tin Man was tensed and ready. There was only a thin grazing of light left in the alley, and so the cop, he surmised, most likely wouldn't see the gray flank of the slab gun until its pulverizing ray had peeled back his skin and melted a portion of whatever it hit. Sometimes it happened so fast the victim didn't even bleed. The heat of the light-pulse instantly cauterized the wound at the same time it created it.

Violet saw the numbers jump and squirm at the bottom of her screen, recording a probabilistic shift in Tin Man's emotions. She interpreted the numbers instantly, reading his feelings as if he were writing them in a journal in real time:

Tin Man was confused. Why the hell had this cop shown up, anyway? Cops almost never came down to Old Earth anymore. For anything. New Earth didn't bother to monitor it regularly. New Earth had given it up for lost, and Tin Man approved.

Lost was how he liked it. Lost let the monsters loose. And that was how Tin Man saw himself: as a monster. Old Earth had made him that way. Old Earth — and the people he needed to protect from its many perils.

A quick visual of the previous three minutes of Tin Man's life popped up in the bottom corner of Violet's screen. The pictures came from the squad of drones that patrolled Old Earth. She followed the video avidly, so that she'd have full information before Intercept Deployment:

In the fragile, moody pallor of dusk on Old Earth, Tin Man had been selling the day's last bag of deckle. He hadn't even bothered to divide the bag into smaller parcels. He didn't need to. His customer was happy to snap up his entire supply of the pink powder, and to pay him well for it.

For the past several months, Tin Man had run a good, steady, efficient business in illegal drugs. He sold a lot of deckle. When the deckle ran out, he switched to tumult, and when tumult was hard to come by, he could always dig up a bit of trekinol. Trekinol was trash, but if nozzled directly into the heart, it could create a flutter. A baby buzz.

The transaction had been seconds away from completion. And then, from out of nowhere, the cop showed up.

Tin Man heard an official-sounding voice say, "What's going on?" The customer heard the voice, too, and it caused him to jerk in the middle as if somebody had pulled an invisible string knotted around his waist. The customer vanished, twitching through the mud-colored twilight of Old Earth.

Tin Man also took off.

And then the cop, to Tin Man's surprise, had followed him.

What the hell? was Tin Man's irritated thought while he slammed across the dark and dismal streets. Nobody interfered with drug deals down here anymore. Nobody. It. Just. Wasn't. Done. This cop, though, apparently had missed the memo.

Tin Man ran. The cop ran faster.

"Hey, wait!" the cop had yelled. "I just want to —"

Tin Man kept running.

The alley. The rain. The skid. The spill. And now, in a very short space of time, The End. For at least one of them.

But the question was: Which one?

Smacksplat. Stop. Danny hunched over Tin Man. He was panting, his black-booted feet spread wide, his body quivering, his hands grabbing the fabric that bunched at his knees. His blue tunic was flecked with mud. His dark hair was wet from rain and sweat. His face was pale.

Tin Man stared up at him, incredulous. All this trouble for a bag of deckle? New Earth didn't care about Old Earth crimes anymore. Old Earth could do as it pleased, even if that meant the people down here ripped one another to shreds, or poisoned themselves with drugs, or whatever. Nobody cared.

What was wrong with this guy?

Tin Man didn't wait for an answer. The cop had to die.

Tin Man wrenched the slab gun out of his trousers.

"Sector four," Violet said.

She'd seen enough. All the official criteria had been met:

Imminent bodily threat to a New Earth citizen.

Lack of plausible escape parameters.

Reasonable expectation of negative outcome.

So now she had a job to do.

"Seventy-eighth parallel," she added. "Old Earth zone sixteen."

She gave her partner a quick sideways glance to make sure he was listening to her. Their workstation was one of a thousand two-person modules arranged across the glass-walled Protocol Hall, the nerve center of New Earth.

"Why's he down there without authorization?" Rez said. "What the —"

"Sync up the parameters," Violet declared, interrupting him. Rez's screen was next to hers, but he'd been watching something else. Another sector. Or maybe playing a game. Whatever. "It's my call." Her voice was cold and steady. She'd gone through the checklist in her head. Twice, even. "And I'm calling it."

"Copy that." Reznik squinted, reading the swath of rich code that decorated the bottom of his screen, catching up with the information that Violet had been absorbing for the past few seconds. He laughed. "So — is that right? 'Tin Man'? How'd he get such a stupid nickname?"

"Don't know. It's the alias of record."

"What's Danny doing down there, anyway?"

"You already asked me that. It's irrelevant. Go on. Lock and load."

Reznik shrugged. He fist-bumped four buttons in rushed succession on the console in front of him. His screen shifted to another variety of code. He punched another button — last week he'd actually cracked the red cover-cap on one of his console triggers, so violently emphatic were his gestures when he was in the throes of his official duties — and the orange-tinted code shimmied and wiggled as the algorithm automatically recalibrated itself in response to incoming data.

Reznik's gaze followed the vapor trail of the code's gyrations like a man in love. Code was a thing of beauty, like a really great song. That's how he had described it once to Violet. He'd practically swooned when he said it. Sometimes, he would add, looking glassy-eyed and bewitched, he loathed the sluggishness of his brain when he beheld code. Compared to the cool sleekness of code, he told her, his brain was like a sweaty fat boy trying to climb a rope in gym class, all sagging butt and pitiful little grunts of doomed effort. Reznik didn't have happy memories of gym class.

Violet occasionally wondered how his love of code registered in his Intercept file. Code recording his obsession with code: It would be like taking your finger and writing the word sand in the sand. He was totally smitten with code. Sometimes it got a little weird.

But no matter how obnoxious he was, Violet had to admit that Rez was a good person to have as a workstation partner. He knew all the shortcuts in the Intercept. He knew all the tricky little backdoor maneuvers that helped them do their jobs — as well as a few that had nothing to do with their jobs.

"Okay," Rezink said. "Ready to rock 'n' roll." It was a funny-sounding phrase he'd picked up in Old Earth history class.

Violet did what she often did when she was nervous: She touched the small area in the crook of her left elbow. This was the spot where the Intercept chip had been inserted, slipped under the skin so swiftly and so delicately that she hadn't even felt it. No one did. There was no scar, just a slight area of discoloration in the shape of a tiny crescent moon. Violet's father, Ogden Crowley — Founding Father of New Earth — had insisted on that: Nobody should feel any pain during the installation. He'd ordered his staff to find a way. Because the Intercept wasn't there to hurt. It was there to help.

And as always, they'd done it. People wanted to please Ogden Crowley. Violet had noticed that from the time she was a little girl.

"Ready," Rez said. "Four. Seventy-eight. Sixteen. On my mark."

"Copy that."


"Protocol initiated." With two fingers, Violet depressed the black bar across the top of her keyboard. She felt a surge of relief. Everything was going to be okay.

Well — not for Tin Man. But that was his fault, not theirs.

She studied the screen. Tin Man tightened his grip on the handle of the slab gun. He aimed its ugly gray snout.

And then the Intercept pounced.

No sizzle, no crackle, no whoosh, no boom. No thunder. No lightning. Not even a click or a ding. For a second there was no outward sign that anything at all had happened.

But it had. Irrevocably.

Deep within the sprawling catacombs beneath their workstation, tucked snugly inside a computer system unfathomably vast, the Intercept was roused to invisible fury.

Tin Man was about to enter hell. But for Violet and Rez, it was just another day at work. Their job was essentially finished. There was nothing more for them to do. Except watch.

"Got any big plans for the weekend?" Rez said.

Violet shrugged. She had plenty of plans, but none to share with Reznik. He was always hinting around about wanting to hang out with her and Shura Lu, her best friend. Not gonna happen, Violet thought. Not meanly, just firmly. She wished he'd get a clue. Why was it that the guys you didn't really care about were crazy about you, while a guy you did care about — in fact, a guy that you thought about a lot — kept you guessing about whether or not he even noticed that you were ...

No. No. She elbowed the thought out of her mind. She wasn't going to give the Intercept anything to work with. Nothing beyond her annoyance, at least. Nothing beyond her irritation that Danny had put himself in jeopardy. Again. What was going on with him?

Reznik didn't seem to mind that Violet had ignored his question. He was used to it; she ignored him on a regular basis. It couldn't dent his good mood. Their shift was almost over, and once it was, he could get back to doing what he loved to do, which was to use his computer savvy to explore the depths of the Intercept.

"Showtime," he said.

In the crook of Tin Man's left elbow they spotted a brief flash of blue. That meant the Intercept chip had just been activated. Their screens immediately shifted to the scene that was frantically flooding Tin Man's brain, surging and grinding inside him.

Reznik leaned back in his chair and piled his big feet up on the desk they shared. He pretended to be eating popcorn from a bowl on his lap. He grinned and fluttered his fingers, as if he was digging in. He tossed an imaginary kernel up in the air and caught it in his mouth, chewing with exaggerated vigor.

A small square in the lower right-hand corner of their screens continued to follow what was happening in the alley. The video was supplied by the drones making their grim, endless circles in the drab sky over Old Earth.

Reznik tossed another fake kernel up in the air. Snap, chew.

Violet rolled her eyes.

"Cut it out, Rez," she snapped. "Don't be a jerk."

He snickered. Hopeless, Violet thought. Expecting Rez to act mature — that's a lost cause. Totally.

They watched their screens. The Intercept had selected one of Tin Man's memories from a decade ago and fed it back into his brain.

It was tearing him to pieces.


Excerpted from "The Dark Intercept"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Julia Keller.
Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Title Page,
Copyright Notice,
Part One,
Chapter 1: Moment No. 327,
Chapter 2: Danny's Secret,
Chapter 3: The Very Bad Detective,
Chapter 4: The Darkening Day,
Chapter 5: Over the Edge,
Chapter 6: Rebels of Light,
Chapter 7: The Very Bad Detective Strikes Again,
Chapter 8: The Intercept Strikes,
Chapter 9: Holdup,
Chapter 10: A Memory of Christmas Morning,
Chapter 11: Division 12,
Chapter 12: The Color of Love,
Chapter 13: Chip-jack,
Chapter 14: Prisoner No. 49878104-12-XHVB,
Chapter 15: Glitch,
Chapter 16: Lucretia Crowley, M.D.,
Chapter 17: Death in the Rain,
Chapter 18: Cats and Rats,
Chapter 19: The Fall,
Part Two,
Chapter 20: Welcome to Old Earth,
Chapter 21: The Woman in the Red Bandana,
Chapter 22: Teatime,
Chapter 23: The Notebook,
Chapter 24: First Attack,
Chapter 25: Second Attack,
Chapter 26: Into the Darkness,
Chapter 27: The Sensenbrenner-Cooley Code Derivative v. the Pforzheimer Equivalent,
Chapter 28: Little Girl Lost,
Chapter 29: Last Rebel Standing,
Chapter 30: After and Before,
Chapter 31: The Kiss,
Chapter 32: The Revelation,
Part Three,
Chapter 33: Flicker,
Chapter 34: Confrontation,
Chapter 35: On the Run,
Chapter 36: The Story,
Chapter 37: The Last Stand,
Chapter 38: The Search,
Chapter 39: Sunrise over New Earth,
About the Author,

Reading Group Guide

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&Writing Skills

Throughout the novel, Violet wrestles with her feelings for Danny and her lack of feelings for Reznik. From the perspective of Danny or Rez, write a journal entry describing your feelings for Violet, how you believe she feels about you, and your hopes for your future relationship.

Each denizen of Earth, Old or New, is implanted with an Intercept chip. Using details from the novel, sketch a picture of the chip and write a one-paragraph “information card,” that you imagine might be given to people when they receive their chips.

Imagine you are a citizen of New Earth. Write a journal entry that begins, “I wish I didn’t have that chip today because I was feeling…”

Readers discover that Callahan and Stark have betrayed each other, Lucretia Crowley has secretly defied Ogden Crowley’s leadership, and Danny Mayhew has been deceiving Violet. Writing from the viewpoint of one of the characters above, write an apology and/or explanation for your betrayal, being sure to include your perceptions about the Intercept.

Go to the library or online to find definitions for the science fiction sub-genres “post-apocalyptic fiction” and “space western.” Make a brainstorm list of novels you have read that fit into each of these, and other science fiction sub-genres. Into which subcategory do you feel The Dark Intercept best fits? Write a one-page essay making your case.

Go to the library or online to research the origins of the names of New Earth’s six cities: Higgsville, Franklinton, Mendeleev Crossing, L’Engletown, Farraday, and Hawking. With friends or classmates, discuss the reasons you think the author chose to include such names in the novel. Then, name your own seventh city inspired by a historical figure in a similar vein. Write a paragraph explaining your selection.

The Dark Intercept depicts two worlds: New Earth and Old Earth. Using PowerPoint or other multimedia presentation tools, create a report describing the landscape, citizens, risks and benefits of each place, and the restrictions and rules involved in moving from one Earth to the other.

Go online to read author Julia Keller’s Pulitzer Prize-winning feature series for the Chicago Tribune: Write a short essay reflecting on the contents of the story and the reporting style. With friends or classmates, compare Keller’s reporting style to her fictional depictions of a damaged future Earth. How might both written works speak to the author’s worldview?

In the character of Ogden Crowley, Callahan, or Reznik, write a speech explaining the need for and/or justification of the Intercept. Present your speech to friends or classmates. Or, in the character of Paul Stark, write and present the “Dark Intercept Manifesto.”

Do you think people in today’s world are angry or uncertain about the Internet and the way data about them is collected and used? Role-play a meeting of the Rebels of Light, during which each of the secretive rebels shares a thought or insight about the Intercept, Ogden Crowley, or their dreams for the future of Earth, Old and New.

If you completed “Before Reading” Activity 2, write a short essay describing ways in which The Dark Intercept supports or refutes your argument for your selected quote. Or, select a new quote from the list and, in the voice of one of the characters from The Dark Intercept, argue in favor or against its thesis.

Divide friends or classmates into two groups to debate the following resolutions: (1) Safety is a terrible goal on which to base a government or society; and (2) Seeking safety above all else is ultimately dangerous.

Supports Common Core State Standards:
RL.8.1-2; RL.9-10.1-3; RL.11-12.1-2; W.8.1-3, W.8.7; W.9-10.1-3,
W.9-10.7; W.11-12.1-3, W.11-12.7; and SL.8.1, SL.8.4; SL.9-10.1;
SL.9-10.4; SL.11-12.1, SL.11-12.4.

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