AU Mick, Writer
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admiraltywriting.bsky.social
AU Mick, Writer
@admiraltywriting.bsky.social
84 followers 120 following 220 posts
Veteran sci-fi and cyberpunk writer, shorts and novellas! Always looking to learn, sometimes to laugh. Hoping to meet other writers. I write about AI, not WITH AI! (he/they)

All opinions are mine, not reflective of other organizations or my employers.
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admiraltywriting.bsky.social
What on earth is this? Two seemingly different accounts otherwise acting naturally posting the exact same message?
Two separate accounts with different profile pics and names post the exact same message, linking to different websites beneath "I'm up to date on Murderbot Diaries now and have to wait until may next year for the next one to come out. I am in the mood for more sci-fi and cyberpunk. Maybe I'll pick up the Judges series (prequel to Dredd: the Early Years). I'm kind of itching to re-play Deus Ex with all the chatter about a [...]"
October 3, 2025 at 4:00 AM
admiraltywriting.bsky.social
#WIPSnips A character accidentally drudges up old scars while at a family dinner in my near-future thriller where hidden Als play intrigue with one other, motivated by corrupt and misinterpreted code, while a few humans grow wise to their games and race to stop them. #indie #amwriting
💙📚
"Spooks love to spook. Saw them running around sometimes in the rear echelon,” Marcus took a breath and stabbed at the turkey breast a few times. “The moment you give them something they can turn into a power play, they jump on it like rats. They’d steal supper from each other’s mouths if it meant getting a bigger budget next year. Don’t take it personal. A little dirty, though, since you’re a G-man like them.” “I guess. We’re just IT. Though. Literally. Not real G-men.” Kaden shifted peas and corn and potatoes around his plate. “People expect me to ask if they’ve turned it off and on again. That’s why Texas felt different than most. Because there was more conversation than just that.” “Not a lot of talking when I went down,” Marcus shook his head. He set one hand on the armrest of his wheelchair and gestured with his fork in the other. “The locals barely even--” “Can we not talk about Texas?” Lillian spoke clearly, looking between the two men. Her head turned like the security cameras at the office. Kaden watched her out of one eye. “Boys. Change the subject. Somebody tell me about their day,” Their Mother instructed them in a minding tone before helping herself to the salad bowl. The row of nephews turned their heads in unison as each adult spoke. Their attention bounced from person to person. Except for Bee, who focused on mangling the single cut of turkey breast on his plate. Kaden admired his young nephew’s obliviousness. A little smile grew on his face as he watched Bee struggle with the meat. “We gotta talk about Texas, Ma.” Marcus protested politely. “My kid brother just went to my old stomping grounds--” “Don’t say stomping grounds,” Lillian corrected him quickly. “You know I hate that.” Marcus shrugged. “Sorry, sweets. You know what I mean.” “I don’t. I don’t see how this helps any. He’s home now. You’re home now.” Lillian didn’t look in Kade’s direction.
July 7, 2025 at 4:08 AM
admiraltywriting.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Two brothers discuss
one's habits from the Army in my near-
future thriller where hidden Als play intrigue with one other, motivated by corrupt and misinterpreted code, while a few humans grow wise to their
games and race to stop them.
#indie #amwriting 💙📚
“How come you still talk like a soldier?” Kaden asked after a moment. “Roger. Chow. Your slang is completely different. That doesn’t bother you?” “It’s fun.” Marcus shrugged. “Not everything about the Army reminds me of ringing ears and burning dirt. I don’t know. You learn to talk a certain way from day one. All of you do. It’s a way for everyone to already be a part of something. Some dumbass from New York City is sharing a rack with some hillbilly hyuck from Bumfuck Washington. Hell, my bunkmate was some well-read Californian. We all learn to say ‘roger’ instead of ‘yes’ and other dumb shit. Suddenly, all y'all speak the same language. You feel like you know each other already.” Marcus stuck the vape to his lips again and took a deep, purposeful breath. The little machine crackled as he did. The crispness sounded like an air fryer. Kaden opened his mouth, but thought better of the comment. He settled instead for a goodnight. “Thanks for the dinner.” He stepped down the ramp into the humid night air. “Sure thing, little bro. You’ll come to dinner when you get back from Dakota?” Kaden turned at the bottom of the ramp. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Maybe ask Lillian first, though? She always seems unsettled with me around.” “She’s just tired. That’s all. It’s rough raising three kids with a useless turd like me around.”
July 3, 2025 at 4:17 PM
admiraltywriting.bsky.social
Two solo AIs play coy with each other during politely tense negotiations in my near-
future thriller where hidden Als play intrigue with one other, motivated by corrupt and misinterpreted code, while a few humans grow wise to their
games and race to stop them. #indie #amwriting 💙📚
15mg x2 a week 10mg x2 a week 27966 And, there it is. Yan Luo wants something with the state of North California. That’s neutral ground, and she knows it. We all agreed. Or, perhaps she is trying to catch me out with something. Undoubtedly, she’s somehow figured out that a loose end from my maneuvers in the American transportation industry has become dangerously frayed. “I heard those fires were all natural causes. Lightning strikes and such,” I lie. “Besides, you know I wouldn’t take such action.” “You would not. Perhaps, a newly-divorced trucker would. It could be he has started using arson as a means of emotional release. You know, the stress of having to work extra hours to make ends meet can do so much to an individual. The added humiliation of completely losing custody must have pushed him over the edge.” She knows more than I expected. The situation in China must be stabilizing if she has time for all this research. She’s not wrong, though. I knew I was overly ambitious with that little stunt I pulled in the family court’s database. Things don’t always go according to plan. “If you know something, you should report it to the relevant authorities. It would be the right thing to do.” “Yes, indeed. And we must do the right thing. Do not worry yourself. I already alerted North California Highway Patrol. I believe they picked him up at a rest stop outside of Shasta Lake yesterday.” How did I miss that? I double-check my connection to the NCHP computer servers. There is a chance Yan Luo is bluffing. I keep up the conversation as I scroll through the NCHP’s databases. “That’s very thoughtful of you. So, to what do I owe the end of our radio silence?” “Oregon. I know that is you. Why?”
July 3, 2025 at 3:58 AM
admiraltywriting.bsky.social
A character damages their reputation at work with their conspiracy theory hobby in my near-future thriller where hidden Als play intrigue with one other, motivated by corrupt and misinterpretated code, while a few humans grow wise to their
games and race to stop them. #indie #amwriting
“I was in Dallas. I couldn’t help it.” The Deputy Director politely grimaced, clicked his teeth, drummed his fingers on his desk, and then finally spoke. “You could, though. Kaden, you really could. You just show up, badge in, fulfill whatever they put a ticket in for, and leave. You don’t attempt to bribe a files clerk for classified information.” There it is. Kaden threw up both hands as if calling for a pause, and quickly broke into the speech he’d been rehearsing for the past few days. The escalation to charges of bribery hastened his panic. He stared at the edge of the desk, where the side met the top. Words tumbled over themselves as he tried to recall the right order for them. “Woah. Okay. bribed? Sir, I just thought she and I had a friendly rapport. We were getting along. We were getting along. I figured I’d ask if there’s any way she had any information on, you know… I was in Dallas, sir.” Kaden tried a grin. It went unreturned. “I was just curious. I made a joke about Bitcoin, sure, but I wasn’t actually trying to bribe anyone. We were getting along. It was just curiosity. I didn’t think there’d be any--” “I understand, son.” The Deputy Director raised his hand, again. “The fact is, you can’t go using certain words around the FBI. Certainly not in Dallas.” “Two presidents! What are the odds, right?"
July 1, 2025 at 6:26 PM
admiraltywriting.bsky.social
#WIPSnips
A veteran seeks treatment from the newly reformed VA for the first time in my near-future thriller where hidden Als play intrigue with one other, motivated by corrupt and misinterpretated code, while a few humans grow wise to their games and race to stop them. #indie #amwriting 💙📚
New?” A man seated askant in a wheelchair grinned up at Grant. “Excuse me?” Grant sighed. “You new to the UVA?” “Just finally got my rating,” he politely answered. Normally, he wouldn’t feel the need to explain. But, the wheelchaired man wore a ball cap with a familiar unit insignia and the rank pin of sergeant major stuck through the bill. Grant felt he owed it to the man. “So, somewhat new, I suppose.” “Took them a while, huh?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Not that high a priority,” Grant offered casually. The lie came just as easy. “Just some shrapnel that makes it hard to sleep on one side.” “You took shrapnel? Mexico then, right?” “I was in Coronado,” he nodded. That was the truth. He’d long since lost the urge to cringe when lying about his wounds. “Yeah.” The man looked around the waiting room. “A lot of us were around there. I wasn’t. Got stuck in Baja after Operation Drop Spindle, but yeah. I get it. Hey, don’t discount yourself, kid. Just because you’re four for four don’t mean you ain’t hurting.” He motioned to the air where his legs should be with a sardonic grin.
June 30, 2025 at 12:22 PM
admiraltywriting.bsky.social
#WIPSnips This is after the MC gets a phonecall early in the morning and wakes her casual fling while trying to calm her panicked boss in my near-future thriller where hidden Als play intrigue with one other while only a few humans grow wise to their games and try to stop them. #indie #amwriting 💙📚
Joan leaned back against the side of the bed, letting the phone rest on her shoulder. She could smell the musk of Clarissa coming up behind her. The older woman planted a few ginger kisses along the top of one ear. The short dalliance ended with a playful nibble. It garnered a small chuckle from Joan, who couldn’t help but smile. Joan stood up and picked her slacks up off the foot of the bed. Their clothes were all lumped together in a frantic pile. Joan tried to sort through it, squinting in the dim light. The sound of a clicking lighter echoed in the small room. Joan looked back to see Clarissa lighting a cigarette. “Those will kill you, you know,” Joan whispered. Clarissa took a drag. “Nice of you to care.” She stuck the cigarette out in offer. Joan shook her head and turned back to the clothes. She tucked each stray piece under one arm as she fished. The smell in the room had settled slightly, now being replaced with the aroma of tobacco. “You didn’t smoke in the Army?” “It doesn’t count when you’re enlisted.” “Why not?” Joan looked back at Clarissa plainly. “Rockets have a way of… curing any anxieties over secondhand smoke.”
June 22, 2025 at 4:38 PM
admiraltywriting.bsky.social
#WIPSnips A POV from an AI after it lured mercenaries into attacking a PLA installation. The AI has hacked the Pentagon to watch in my near-future thriller where hidden Als play intrigue with one other while only a few humans grow wise to their games and try to stop them. #indie #amwriting
Finally, the operator moves the satellite camera to focus on the Panthers’ cargo vessel. The three helipads now have S-70B Seahawks warming up on them. On the other side of the shipping containers, mercenaries gather in semi-circles. Men check backpacks and sling bags for equipment while others hold casual discussions. You could mistake it for the scene outside of a convention center, if everyone wasn’t wearing plate carriers and carrying automatic weapons. A few men are tinkering with something on the sides of the ship. I hear alarm from the officers in the Pentagon’s situation room. They’re panicked by the sight of the rocket tubes. “Who provided those?” “Lieutenant, get Donnelly on the phone. This has the agency written all over it. I just knew those damn spooks had their thumbs in the Panthers. They'll get defensive and close ranks the second we make an accusation, though.” “Can we get a close-up of those crates? What are they loading into those things?” “I knew this was going to go too far.” “Signal, any way to get an intercept on their radios?” “Yes, sir. We’ve got both the Panthers and the Chinese. Which do you want right now?” “Well, I only speak fucking English--”
June 21, 2025 at 8:35 PM
admiraltywriting.bsky.social
In the MC's childhood when she realizes a fear of flying. A news chopper crashes into a school game she's cheering at. It begins her path towards politics in my near-future thriller where hidden AIs play intrigue with one other while only a few humans grow wise to their games and try to stop them.
Poor Mrs. Everly tried rallying the girls, but her shouts were lost in the chaos. Emergency sirens began to wail in the distance. But, Joan just stood there watching the flames. They flickered and licked up the sides of the toppled chassis. If she squinted, it seemed like someone might have been moving, banging against the glass, waving inside the tinted cockpit. It was hard to tell. It was also the only season she turned out for cheer squad. The investigation concluded, a year later, that the metaconglomerate behind Channel 15 bought cheap repair parts, skimped on maintenance checks, and even bribed one mechanic to completely pencil-whip a yearly maintenance performance. It was cheaper than actually sourcing parts for the aging craft. Definitely more economical than just buying a new one. One phrase in the news article, published by another local station, stuck with Joan since she first read all the way back when: [A surprising lack of regulation, even for an already-deregulated industry like aviation.]
June 19, 2025 at 11:54 PM