Aramis Fox

“It’s raining outside my window and if I squint in the blue half-light from the streetlight the bruise on my arm looks like a spider. If I concentrate I can make it spread over my whole arm like warm pins and needles. What the hell kind of bruise can do that?”

Aramis Fox is a novel-in-progress that I’m writing on twitter in 140-character instalments. I started writing it in June 2009.

It’s about a normal everyday guy who one day discovers he has superpowers. Not particularly impressive superpowers, mind, but superpowers nonetheless. The novel follows his attempts to work out what he should do with his powers as he explores the world around him to find out how other people with powers have answered that question for themselves.

You can read the novel as it develops over at, or check out the archives at

And here’s a sample:

Excerpt from Aramis Fox

Back at work I sit at the temp desk googling gossip sites for super-origin stories. Too keen to wait, too lazy to go to a net cafe last night.

I bookmark and print a bunch of stories about any telekinetics, magnetisers or gravity manipulators over the past fifty years.

My search turns up unfamiliar phrases: “chi-projection”, “spirit lifting”, “forcewall” and “M-energy”. Bookmark & print. Bookmark & print.

In the copy room I flip through pics of fellow thing-floaterers, including one of a woman pointing at ten freaked out hovering elephants.

At home I read through the day’s research, uncorking and recorking the Talisker using the power. Delicate actions are getting easier to do.

Once you get past guys like Swami and Joyride, there doesn’t seem to be much telekinesis in the A-list. At least, not as a primary power.

Proton has it, and so does Electron, and Empyrean used it once against The Lab Rats, but they don’t rely on it, or even use it very often.

Of course there’s The Poltergeist, but he’s a baddie. Still, it’s worth looking into. There’s not as much out there about baddies, though.

I guess the baddies just have less fans to create fanpages for them. I check my phone & realise I’m going to be late for dinner with Jenny.

Profuse and vague apologies as I take my seat opposite Jenny. “You’re having octopus bibimbap,” she says. “I already ate your mandu.”

Were they nice? “They were delicious. And it’s octopus instead of beef because you’re late. So suck it up or give me a better excuse.”

So it comes to this: lie to my girlfriend & eat yucky tentacly octopus or tell the truth and eat bibimbap the way god intended it to be.

And since I hate octopus with a passion and I’ve never been able to lie to Jenny, I point at the chilli bottle between us and concentrate.

The bottle trembles and rises up from its place between the soy sauce and the chopstick holder. I look across the table at jenny, grinning.

“What are you doing?” asks Jenny. “Are you doing that? How are you doing that? Stop doing that! Put it down!” she hisses, looking around.

I let the bottle down. Jenny stares into my eyes, frowning. “Harry, is there something you want to talk to me about?”


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