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THE IMMORTAL LARRIKIN- The ultimate cryonic adventure

the immortal larrikin cover

The Brendon James Life Foundation is Australia’s premier cryonic company, with its patient-storage facility situated in outback NSW. 

To boost sales, and increase its public awareness, it announces a nationwide competition, with the winner to receive a free cryonic suspension. A controversial condition of entry stipulates that all applicants have a terminal illness, with only a further six months’ life expectancy. 

Geoffrey Blakely, a retired Newcastle Council worker, is diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. His family is aghast at his decision to enter the competition, desirous of a traditional family funeral. A determined father and husband soon realises that winning the competition is only half the battle in his quest for frozen immortality. 

In Store Price: $29.95 
Online Price:   $28.95



Ebook version - $AUD9.00 upload.


ISBN: 978-0-6480998-7-1
Format: Paperback
Number of pages: 319
Genre: Fiction

Cover: Clive Dalkins

  Gary J. Burrett
Publisher: Zeus Publications
Date Published:  2017
Language: English


     Read a sample: 

Author Bio 

Gary Burrett is a retired accountant who lives with his wife and family in Newcastle, NSW.  

His hobbies include music and song writing. Several of his songs have won awards. This is his second book.



In memory of my parents

June May and Kenneth William Burrett



Richard Blakely recently approached me to gauge my interest in writing a story about his late father. I was an old school mate of Geoffrey Blakely, and was bitterly disappointed to have missed his funeral, having been on an overseas holiday with my wife. Although I’d already published two children’s books, with very modest success, to atone for missing his father’s funeral, I accepted the challenge.

To assist me in completing my assignment, Richard and his sister, Linda, handed over their father’s diary. In reading it, I can honestly say he was a larrikin at school, and still a larrikin right up until his death. I trust you enjoy his story, and the following is an extract from his diary.


I’ve never faked an orgasm in my life but I had uttered a few intelligently embellished ‘porkies’. Certainly not the kind that could be labelled as blatant lies, but rather flamboyant fibs with a charitable end purpose, if you get my drift. Because, when it’s all said and done, the truth hurts.


Dr Brendon James, founder of the Brendon James Life Foundation, had drafted a unique theory, linking childhood memories to intelligence levels. Because he had not finished refining several important assumptions, it had never been made public, but during one of my internet searches I stumbled onto an earlier draft that was included in a famous speech to the Maryland Cryonics Society in the USA.


“And so I’ve drafted a theory that links early childhood memories with intelligence levels. The earlier the recollections, the more intelligent the person. If you can recall the trauma of having your nappy changed then you’re very smart. Remember being back-slapped and burped at birth? Then you’re practically a genius. And memories of being in the womb just prior to being jettisoned? Well, you’re an Einstein and will probably discover another Black Hole with a two-page, two-hundred-character equation to prove it all. At the other end of the intelligence scale, a lack of memories, say before age six, would probably qualify you to journey through life mentally impoverished. The only other proviso for the theory to retain some integrity is that the memory must be razor sharp – a paradigm of clarity.”


Armed with this information, I strayed from the path of righteousness in my interview with the Brendon James Life Foundation’s assessment panel when I was asked –“


What is your earliest childhood memory?


I replied with enthusiasm that I remember pulling off Santa’s false beard at a shopping centre when I was three. That was a little white lie, but according to Dr Brendon James’s theory, it placed me in the elite genius category, and surely this couldn’t hurt my application. Besides, I had an ego that required feeding and nourishing. Nothing to be ashamed of here, and I readily admit to possessing an ambitious streak in my psyche. I can never remember being in a race that I didn’t want to win, and it still irks me to admit that I live in the poorest part of the beachside suburb of Merewether.

In actual fact, my earliest memory was that of a five-year-old on the way to my first day at school, which probably indicated what I had always known: that I was of average intelligence, nothing more, nothing less. But hey, what the heck! He would never know the truth. That is unless I spilled the beans while under hypnosis, but the chances of that happening were akin to my flying to Mars on a rusty nail – pretty damn slim. Or were they?

Chapter 1 - part sample




Charles Walter James rolled over and checked his bedside digital clock – 6.30 am, Wednesday 14th July 2004. It was a birthday present from his son but he still missed the hands pointing to numbers. A lazy sun was beginning to spread its warmth over his town of Westminster in Maryland, situated on the south-east coast of North America. His wife, Raylene, was still asleep as he tossed the blanket aside and threw muscular legs over his side of the bed. Sitting upright enabled him to peer through the window and enjoy the view. He focused on the distant mountains as his thoughts slowly returned to yesterday’s meeting with his accountant. It was two months since the sale of his business had successfully been completed and only last week the funds had finally been transferred to his personal account – a whopping $280 million. Add to this the value of his real-estate holdings in the state of Maryland and you had a very rich son of a gun!

Yes, he was rich but he didn’t feel it. He pondered the absence of a wealthy feeling. One feels hungry, the stomach tells us. You stub your toe on a piece of furniture and ouch, you feel pain. Lose a loved one and the grief is nearly unbearable. So how come feeling wealthy didn’t at least give him a tingle? Probably because Charles James had been wealthy for a long time – by now he had comfortably adjusted to any nebulous feeling of wealth or lack of it. Nor did he feel unique, for he knew too well that the state of Maryland was already home to around 180,000 millionaires. Not bad for a state with a total population of around 6,000,000.

It had been a hectic week all round, so he decided to exit the bedroom quietly so as not to disturb his wife’s slumber. He tippy-toed past her with an adroitness that would have had Vaslav Nijinsky applauding and Rudolf Nureyev weak at the knees, if that was at all possible. First stop was the guest bathroom to satisfy his regular early-morning call of nature. All ablutions completed, he gazed into the bathroom mirror and ran his hands through a mass of black curly hair and checked his nose. As he snipped at the few hairs that protruded from his left nostril he wondered if his regular manicuring of his elusive nasal hairs was a sign of misplaced vanity. He chuckled to himself as he put his nasal hair grooming down to pernickety tidiness.

At 48, CJ, (a nickname lovingly bestowed upon him by his wife) remained a ruggedly handsome and energetic workaholic. Despite his past heavy workload as CEO and owner of Maryland Tower Construction and Maintenance Services, he always found time to squeeze in regular gym work. He flexed his pecs and headed off to the kitchen for an early-morning orange juice. As he sipped his juice, another sign of his frugality, he again peered yonder towards the distant hills. Every man worth his salt has times of reflection, a quiet moment alone to relive treasured moments in his life, be they happy or sad. He momentarily closed his eyes as an aid to his memory seeking and he smiled. A young man slowly walking down cement steps, cloaked in cap and gown and a valuable scroll held tightly and proudly in safe hands.


* * *


Charles Walter James had graduated with Honours in Engineering from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 1979 at the age of 23. Tucking his academic certificate under his arm, he had headed to Annapolis in Maryland, situated in the mid-Atlantic region. Founded in 1632 by a charter from King Charles I of England, Maryland was a safe haven for the English-persecuted Catholics. After World War II it had really hit its straps economically to become the wealthiest state in America. Charles James would soon add to its wealth, initially securing employment with a medium-sized company, Tower Tall Constructions, where he had proceeded to carve out a career for himself. In 1984 he had gladly surrendered his bachelor status and ambled down the matrimonial aisle with his employer’s daughter, Raylene Tarne Anderson. Two years later, in 1986, Raylene and Charles had presented their respective parents with their first grandson, Brendon. It had not been an easy birth for Raylene, who had wept unashamedly when informed by her gynaecologist that there would be no future blood brothers or sisters for their son.

Brendon James had been born into a world adjusting to the phenomena of rampant telecommunication technology. Leading the charge in the USA had been the astonishing growth in cellular phones, referred to as mobile phones in the UK and Australia. In 1988, due to incredibly inept management, the Annapolis firm, Tower Tall Constructions, had fallen on hard times. Sensing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Charles James had made an offer too hard to resist and had become the new owner of the ailing business. From the ashes of Tower Tall Constructions a new juggernaut, Maryland Tower Construction and Maintenance Services, had emerged. To satisfy the voracious appetite for cellular phone usage, the growth in the construction of cell towers had been equally extraordinary and this was where Maryland Tower had gradually garnished its expertise. Charles Walter James had simultaneously become a willing workaholic and a multi-millionaire.

Customer demand for reliable cell-phone coverage had translated into higher standards of cell-tower productivity. As with all companies that experienced rapid growth, the workforce had been stretched thinly. To alleviate the manpower strain, the management team at Maryland Towers had gradually assembled a squad of subcontractors to handle the burgeoning tower-maintenance demands. During the 1990s Maryland Tower Construction and Maintenance Services had become an industry giant with a hard-earned reputation anchored on reliability and sound work practices. Unfortunately, early in the new millennium, cracks had started to appear.




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